Spencer first discovered the art of having an alibi from Alison.
Back when the blonde-haired troublemaker was still alive, she would guide the girls in the art of sneaking out and having a fake, yet believable reason for being gone.
Spencer, always the goody-two-shoes of the group, had insisted on staying home when the others had so gleefully wanted to try out their newly found talent and sneak out.
Of course, now things were different. Completely and utterly different. Nothing in her life seemed to be what it used to be. And any sort of troubles she used to have paled in comparison to the hell she was enduring currently.
She had lost everything. Her freedom. Her privacy. The only man she ever loved. And maybe her sanity had left with him.
When she pulled herself away…she had left her whole heart with him. And it was as if there was a dark hole in her chest, filled with nothing but a block of ice, keeping her entire body cold from the inside out.
So, back then, she would have never thought that she would ever need the skills of sneaking out. But, in fact, she did.
Like that very day, the rainy afternoon in which she had pretended to be studying at a friend's house, but had instead come to the highest place in Rosewood, where a large rock stood, overseeing the town.
She was cold, the rain washing over her torturously. It was as if everything in her life had suddenly crushed her under its weight; the amount of tears she cried had left her dry and barren, so the clouds cried for her.
She hadn't brought a jacket; only a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, paired with an old pair of suede boots. Those poor shoes were way beyond repair now.
Spencer couldn't understand why she was out there. In the middle of the pouring rain, her skin pebbled with goose bumps.
It was almost as if she could still feel it. The warmth of him, the softness of his touch as he gently held her. They had been up there so many times. She closed her eyes and touched her fingertips to the corners of her lips; she could remember with vivid clearness the feel of his mouth, so unhurried, careful, as if they had all the time in the world.
Spencer wished with her whole heart that that had been the case.
She opened her eyes and sighed. Maybe that's why she was so okay with the chill. Once you experience the worst possible thing, the coldest and darkest of all places, everything else becomes livable again. A fight with a friend. A stalker looking for murder. A cold rain storm.
Spencer knew that if she were to ever find any sort of closure, she was going to have to start somewhere. She got into her car, backing out and away from the rock, and back down the hill. Her wet clothes soaked the seats, but it wasn't important.
Once she reached her destination, she parked across the street and stayed in her seat for a second. She remembered the first time she had really been to this place. She remembered every acute detail. It scared her to think that there might come a time where she would be completely unwelcomed here. When he would finally get the message and stop chasing her. That he would walk away.
Isn't that what she had told him that she wanted?
But it wasn't. Not at all. She feared the day when he would finally give up on her.
It was sick, what she was doing. How she kept telling him to get lost, when the only thing she wanted was for him to find her.
She sighed and finally got out a ripped piece of paper and a pen, scrawling down some words and then folding the page up into her palm. She got out of the car, slamming the door shut with a thunk and stepping out into the curtain of rain once more.
She neared the front of the house and walked up the steps evenly, until she found herself on the porch, where so many things had happened. Where she had finally realized that his intents were never malicious. Where she had found the door unlocked and stepped inside, and in turn had found more than just love within; she had found herself. Where she had had the door slammed in her face countless times, only to have it reopened some time later. There were memories here, ones that she just couldn't risk giving up.
So, with her heart starting to beat again, slowly, just trudging along, she tucked the note against the door handle and rapped on her door softly, before turning and jogging away, back to her car. She opened the car door, but not before the front door opened. She turned and squinted through the rain at the figure that shadowed the doorway. She prayed that it wouldn't be Jenna, who couldn't read the words but, despite her coldness, would be able to feel the power burning beneath the message, ablaze between the lines.
But it wasn't. It was Toby. She held her breath and closed her eyes. She counted to ten softly inside her head, drawing out the moments.
One. The first time he kissed me.
Two. The time he had risked everything to see me.
Three. When I bought him the truck and he said he loved me.
Four. All the times he walked me home, just to make sure I was safe.
Six. The way he kicked my ass at Scrabble.
Seven. The way he promised things and stuck to them always.
Eight. The way he always forgave me, time and time again, not matter how badly I screwed up.
Nine. Our last few kisses together.
Ten. His words to me after I asked him to forget about me. How he wouldn't.
When she opened her eyes, he was there. Right in front of her, hardly a foot away. She parted her lips to say something but no words came out. The note had fluttered from his fingertips and lay plastered against the wet pavement, her smeared handwriting glaring up at them.
I'm so, so sorry.
-Spencer
He said nothing. Only softly reached for her, taking her by the hand, his warm fingers entrapping hers in soft redemption. His touch traveled upward, through her veins and she could feel it.
A throbbing pulse.
A soft beating.
A changing heart.