Disclaimer: I don't own PLL. I really don't want to, lmao. I actually wrote this chapter a loooooong time ago, so long ago that this was my original A/N: After watching 6x17, I highkey don't want to own PLL to begin with. Marlene, from me and most likely all PLL fans, please get Alison a divorce and maybe a psych-test. Now that I'm done sulking, on to the chapter two. :)

I have a bad habit of taking years upon years to write stories. It's a shame, tbh. Anyways, here's chapter two.


June 10th, 2018.

"Ali, do we have anymore gluten-free flour?" Mrs. DiLaurentis prodded within her mahogany cabinets, her nose pointed towards the sky as she searched for the ingredients to her chocolate waffle churros.

Alison, seated by the kitchen's carrara-top island with her pedicured-feet crossed, motioned to a random cabinet by the refrigerator and distractedly murmured back to her mother,"Yeah, I think there's some left in the cabinet or something."

Mrs. DiLaurentis, her hair tied in a bun and her short-sleeved dress covered in plaid-green, turned away from the cabinet and eyed her blonde daughter, raising her eyebrows and placing a hand on her apron-clad hip. "Alison, if you want to invite your friends to the barbecue, we're going to require actual food to serve them as well. So, you need to put down that phone and help me prepare."

Alison threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, groaning in the most melodramatic tone,"Ugh, moooooom."

The mother slid the iPhone away from her daughter's hand and grasped her hand, pulling her towards the fridge and chiding,"Ah, no whining. We'll be done before four o'clock, then you can go back to your Facebooks and Twitters. Now, get the avocados and the bowl out and start peeling them."

The teenage blonde huffed and opened the large fridge, leaning over to retrieve the green fruit,"I was on Snapchat."

"Did you invite Emily and her family over for the barbecue?"

Alison shrugged and placed the avocados on the counter. "Not really. She doesn't seem much like the partying type, anyways."

"And you're basing this fact on the ten second meeting you had with her last week?"

Alison straightened out her white tank top and checked her nails, taking her position back by the island, making sure her mother didn't notice her hand creep her phone back into her possession. "Okay, I was over there for like, ten minutes, and yes. I could barely hear her when she told me hi."

"Well then, lucky for you, I already invited her and her family over for the barbecue, and you will talk to her. She just moved into the neighborhood, and she's probably going to need a friend to show her around the area. This barbecue will be a great setting for you and she to really get to know each other."

The blonde daughter tilted her head and puckered her lips at her phone as she tried to capture the perfect selfie, murmuring to her mother,"Why are you so determined to make me befriend this girl all of a sudden?"

Mrs. DiLaurentis snatched Alison's phone from her hands as she smiled and replied,"Because maybe she'll take your mind off of you for a change. Now, peel."


Jason sauntered out of the kitchen and placed a green bowl of guacamole on the front yard's table, where the rest of the delicately-prepared foods were prepped and ready to be served to every guest at the DiLaurentis summer kickoff barbecue. He smoothed his hands against his tropical-themed shirt, running his other hand through his voluminous, shiny blonde locks and using his index finger to raise his Ray Bans back onto the bridge of his sculpted nose. He then smoothed his palms down his white Stanton shorts, his lips curving into a boasting smirk as one of the female neighbors slithered by and smiled back.

"Could you maybe help me bring the rest of the drinks out? Or is that too much effort for your delicate model-body to handle?"

The pervy smile on Jason's face instantly fell flat, his shoulders dropping as he turned to his blonde sister. "Why are you always so quick to interrogate me?"

With a sleeveless, flowing peach top that was stringed and open in the back, showing off the scarce but sunkissed freckles on her shoulder blades, and ripped, lightwashed denim shorts and Givenchy-clad feet, Alison squinted her eyes underneath her Dior sunglasses and sneered,"I ask you to bring out a glass of limeade and I'm interrogating you?"

Jason felt his left eye twitch as he scoffed back,"You're literally holding one cup, Alison. One."

The blonde girl lifted her cup-less and freshly-manicured hand, vigorously waving it in her brother's face. "See this? I just got them done and I'm not ruining them."

Jason could only laugh in disbelief, pushing his glasses atop his head and staring wildly at his sister. "You call me delicate? But you—"

"Jason, Alison." An exasperated sigh left both siblings' mouths as their mother came up behind them with a hand on her hip and a motherly eyebrow raised in soft but stern warning. "Absolutely no bickering from you two today. Go talk to your friends, go flirt with your neighbors, but no fighting. None."

"I'm fine with that," Jason chirps, turning on the heel of his leather sandal and immediately eyeing down the brunette girl he was previously ogling, the licentious smile on his face falling flat again as his mother held him by the shoulder. "Ah— Not before you bring the rest of that limeade out."

A heavy sigh flowed from Jason's mouth, and he grumbled a series of sulks as he headed back into the house, leaving Alison to locate her best friend through the growing crowd of her wealthy, well-dressed neighbors in her front yard. The glowing blonde peered over the rims of her sunglasses, knowing that Mona was bound to be the best dressed among these high-class doppelgangers. She sipped from the straw sticking from the limeade glass in her hand and placed her other careful hand on her hip; the brunette had texted her only a couple minutes ago, and she was only five blocks away. She should've been here by now.

"Look who got their early-bird tan this year." The compliment hit Alison's ears and instantly made the blonde smirk, twisting around to see her best friend. They leaned in and shared an air kiss, Alison pulling back and noticing the lack of male company on Mona's arm. "Where's Mike? I thought you said he was coming with you."

Mona rolled her glittery brown eyes, sighing,"We were still fighting in the car and he told me he'd be out here in a minute."

They'd been bickering a lot more of the late, and it only confused and wore Alison out, having to deal with Mona's hour-long rants on the phone about how Mike 'was being a freakin' jerk lately and he could do so much better as a boyfriend.' The blonde lowered her voice and put a mock-sympathetic hand on Mona's shoulder. "You guys have been fighting a lot lately. Is it getting rusty in the bedroom department?"

Mona flicked Alison's hand away. "Shut up, bitch. And ... I don't know. Lately it just seems like he's just... distracted. And he won't tell me why."

Together, they watched the growing amount of guests file into the DiLaurentis front yard, grinning and clanking drinks in their designer sunglasses and slightly-sweaty skin. Alison suggested,"Maybe you two need a break? Being together for so long can be claustrophobic in a way."

The slightest bit of dread made its way into Mona's voice as she responded,"That's the last thing I want."

Mona quickly changed the subject as she laid glittery, judgmental eyes on someone unfamiliar making their way into the crowd. "Who's the new girl?"

"The hottest new bombshell in Wellington," Jason casually added, passing by with a tray of glasses filled with limeade. Alison resisted the intense, fiery urge to physically and verbally harm her brother in front of Mona, opting for a better, nonchalant response. "Jason, go away."

He shrugged as he walked away. "Buuuuut I'm right though."

"She seems..." Mona trailed off, letting her assumptuous silence linger in her sentence. "Different."

Alison pursed her lips and trailed her eyes over the brunette girl's moving figure, letting out a snide,"Different as in I haven't gone shopping in two years, or different as in I lack the ability to speak like a normal human being? Because if so, yes, she is very different."

Mona guffawed as her face wrinkled into pity, holding Alison's shoulder as she doubled over. "God, Ali, she just got here. At least her give her a chance to prove she's a loser before you assume that. What's her name, anyway?"

The familiar brown eyes, the dark hair, and the smooth cheekbones filled Alison's head as she continued to stare down the new girl from afar. "Emily."


Jason tilted his chiseled head to the side, surveying the platinum-faced babes scattered out amongst the DiLaurentis front lawn. He bit his lip; CeCe Drake was looking so very delicious in her angel-white two piece, and those shiny blonde curls swayed in the sunlight, all the way down her California-tanned legs to the supple curve of her toned and bubbly ass. His gaze lingered on her bottom for a few more moments, before trailing upwards to her scantily-clad bosom; her boobs were perky and pretty and Jason didn't mind that view one bit.

CeCe caught his stare, and he couldn't tell if she pitied or admired in him in the smile she threw to him from across the lawn. He only smirked back, tucking a dirty-blonde strand behind his ear. Despite the fact that he despised Alison's prissy-playlist currently playing, he hummed to the sunny lyrics floating in the air. One for the money... two for the show... I love you honey, I'm ready, I'm ready to go. How did you get that way? I don't know...

"Excuse me—" The soft words hadn't reached his horny ears quick enough, and the silver tray Jason had forgotten he was holding accidentally tilted to the ground, sending three glasses of lukewarm limeade spilling onto a girl's shirt.

"Oh, shit. Shit, shit. I am so, so sorry," Jason immediately fumbled for the glasses in the grass, spitting out quick apologies to the girl he hadn't even bothered to make eye contact with yet. "I didn't even see you there, God, I am so sorry. Can I get you a towel?" He pulled his gaze upwards and his words failed on his lips, seeing that it was the new girl who'd moved across the street just earlier that week.

"Emma, right?" He straightened out his posture and his dimples broke out as he gave her an apologetic smile with underhanded flirtation swirling in his sparkling green eyes. "I am seriously so sorry, I'm honestly such a goof in super hot weather. Let me show you to the kitchen, we've got some napkins in there. Maybe I can get you a clean shirt?"

"It's," she cleared her throat and restarted her sentence a little louder, trying to ignore the judgmental eyes all over her wet polo shirt and stressed expression. "It's Emily. And uh, that's okay. I think I know where it is, actually." She gripped her hands into balls, nails digging into her palms and ignoring the anxious pressure that was rapidly clawing at her chest. She stepped pass this blonde-boy and hurriedly made her way past the rich, guffawing guests, trying hard to tell her mind that they weren't laughing at her.

She lied to that dirty-blonde boy; she didn't know where the bathroom was. In fact, she'd never seen anything beyond the white fence and freshly manicured grass outside. When she crept into the house, her eyes dilated with unease; everything was big and shiny, far too luxurious for the sake of humanity. A chandelier hung above her head, reflecting glittering sun-speckles on the thick white walls around her. The air smelled of flowers and lemon squares. She'd be lucky if she could find the exit after venturing into here.

She sighed. Napkins. That's all she needed to get, and then she could wipe off her shirt, push her way through these Purge-looking beings, walk straight across the street and be in her room and under her blankets within one minute.

She crept around the corner, following the polished-wooden floor until she spotted an island. There, a roll of napkins sat, taunting her with its distance. She took the first step, ready to dry this tasteless, green liquid off herself—

"Dammit, Jessica, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Emily's body instantly took a step backwards, firmly planting herself in the nearest, darkest corner she could find. She was right next to some old Nikes and a dog-leash, and her heart began to hit hard and heavy as the voice boomed out again, this time closer. Her breath matched her mind and paused in fear.

A woman's voice, or rather Jessica's voice shakily broke out, yet Emily numbly listened as she tried to reinforce the firmness in her trembling voice,"Kenneth, do not speak to me like this. I am your wife and you will treat me as such. Don't you dare use such a condescending tone of voice with your equal, not in this house. And there are almost hundreds guests outside by now, you know this isn't the rig—"

Kenneth's voice lowered an octave and he spat back,"I don't give a damn about the guests, Jessica. Who the hell do you think I am? Huh? Don't you know how to keep your mouth shut when you're around those female counterparts? Or have you become too incompetent over the last few years?"

Emily's stomach churned as her ears unwillingly listened on; she'd never even seen this man but he had already become one of the worst humans on earth.

"Kenneth, please. Don't do this right now."

She heard intimidating footsteps stomping across the marble floor. The sound of silverware then rattled as something slammed on the table. "There is absolutely no reason for you to be parading around that yard, shoveling out our personal business. My personal business, in fact. Do you think I won't find out what goes on, Jessica? Have you not lived in Wellington long enough to know that I control every crevice of this city?"

"Kenneth," Jessica pleaded. Emily heard her gentle footsteps shuffling away from the Kenneth's voice; she closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek and she hoped to God this wouldn't escalate.

"You know what?" This man's voice huffed, and then Emily heard it.

The sharp rip of skin hitting skin that echoed in the kitchen. Emily flinched hard, and her eyes immediately welt up with hot liquid as her breath didn't dare to escape her dry mouth. "You watch your mouth next time, Jessica. Look at me," he growled. Emily heard a strangled whimper and a lonely tear slipped itself out of the corner of her eye. "I said fucking look at me, Jessica. Don't ever disrespect me on my fucking property, do you understand?"

Slap. "Look at me, Jessica. Why aren't you looking at me?"

Bam. "Fucking look at me, woman."

Bang. Emily's hand balled into tight knots, her body heavily shaking and incapacitated against the dark, sullen corner she was hiding in.

He spat again, louder and louder. "I paid for this house, I paid for the cars, I paid for the clothes on your back, I buy you whatever you, Jason, and Alison want. And I love you, Jessica, but I own you. You are nothing without me, and you better remember these words the next time you ever doubt it."

"Okay, Ken, okay. Jesus, okay," Jessica brokenly seethed back. Emily almost could hear the tears rushing down her cheeks and she couldn't help her own, wanting to just run the hell away from this grotesque scenario unfolding behind the wall.

Shit, shit, shit. Emily had to leave now. She had to get the hell out of this house before she got sick to her stomach all over that pair of Nikes. She waited until the heavy footsteps faded into the abyss, and she pressed her arms and legs against the wall, sliding back towards the exit until she gripped the golden doorknob and silently inched back into the sunshine. Her limbs trembled and she let out several labored breaths as her eyes adjusted to the blaring sun.

"Hey, um, Emily? Right?"

Emily flinched hard to the right, her skin crawling in the hot sun and her racing heart still threatening to spill out of her closed throat. Her eyes roamed up and down until they met a face; it wasn't the blonde boy this time, but the blonde girl from last week with the regal-sounding last name, Alison DiLaurentis. Her demeanor seemed slightly repelling and there was a fragile hint of an underlying scowl as she spoke,"Jason said you needed some napkins or whatever. Our house is kind of huge, so I thought you might've gotten lost or..."

Alison paused midway, screwing her well-done eyebrows together and narrowing her watery blue eyes at Emily. "Are you okay? You look really pale."

Emily parted her lips to incoherently speak,"I, um..."

"Alison." The burly voice registered in Emily's mind and her body prickled up once again; she knew that voice. She turned and saw a tall, grey-haired man approaching the blonde girl in front of her. He slid a hand onto Alison's shoulder, and Emily watched him peer over her body before giving her a wrinkly-grin.

"Who's your friend?"

Alison side-eyed Emily for half a second and then pursed her hot pink lips together. "This is Emily, she just moved in like, a week ago. Emily," Emily's heart clutched the bottom of her throat once again and her stomach sank into her feet as her blurry mind began to make to ungodly connections,"This is my dad."

"Nice to meet you, Emily. I'm Kenneth."

"Kenneth, please. Don't do this right now." Was that the Kenneth that Emily was seeing? The one Emily was standing less than two feet away from? Kenneth? No, God, no. No, fuck no.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? You look a bit sick right now. You don't need some water, do you?" Kenneth cooed at her, putting a veined, sun-spotted hand on Emily's frail shoulder. Her eyes unintentionally drifted to the left and stared at the hand, and as soon as she saw the film of blood barely sprinkled on his knuckles, Emily's body acted on itself.

She opened her mouth once, and out rained her indigested contents all over Alison DiLaurentis' sandals and all over the DiLaurentis' fresh, green grass.


Well, well, well. Look's like we've got a gross, disgusting asshole on our hands, folks. But will his karma play out? Will Alison find out her dad's a nasty dingbat? Will Emily replace Alison's four-hundred dollar Givenchy flip flops? We shall see.

Thank you guys so, so much for the awesome reviews on the first chapter. It's been a long while since I did a multi-chapter fic and all the love from you guys makes writing this so much more fun. I really and truly appreciate all the words to the moon and back.

(Also, Sasha and Shay are making a cooking video together and I couldn't be more shook. WHAT A WONDERFUL MONTH.)

(#emison)