Here's the next part of my Sparia fic. I'm really sorry for the delay. Like I said, I'm going with the flow for this fic, so I only just realized how I wanted to continue. This chapter actually turned out to be a bit darker than I expected (I might change the rating to M if the subject gets darker and the language becomes foul).
And yes, somehow this fic is turning out to be a multi-chap fic, so you can expect at least two more chapters to look forward to.
I also wanted to thank you guys for your kind reviews and for all the follows/favorites for this fic. It's definitely inspiring me to keep writing this for y'all.
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, the show isn't mine. All mistakes are my own.
You let out a tiny smile when you see a bit of drool that has escaped her mouth, and you resist the urge to wipe it away. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, her eyes shut, her hair splayed all around her. You swallow when you realize what you're doing.
Suddenly feeling slightly anxious and confused, you manage to squeeze your way out of her clutch and you stand up, stretching.
It's only then you remember last night, and what happened that had brought you to Spencer's house in the first place.
And when it hits you, when you remember seeing... him (you can't even bare to say his name in your head), you feel what feels like a physical pain shoot right through you. It starts in your throat, reaching its way down to your stomach. Complete devastation. It swallows you whole as you remember seeing his face, looking at you in shock, horror, and... was it anger?
No, no. You can't think about him. It hurts too much.
And yet... you can't help wondering if all you ever were to him was a play thing; something he could throw away after he'd gotten all the information he'd needed from you. Someone he just figured he'd use and toss away when the use had come to an end. You never meant anything to him, was that it?
Maybe that's what bothers you the most. The fact that you had thought he loved you, like he looked at you the way no one else ever had. It was all a lie. And all you feel now is disgusting and trashy.
You try to tell yourself it isn't your fault, that it was never possible for you to have known. But the pieces are adding up; the texts from A, the actions A took on the other girls- leaving you out- the hints that were all right under your nose the entire time. The clues were all right there, yet you didn't piece them together.
Until now.
You feel so stupid. So damn stupid.
Your nostrils flair as you feel tears start welling up in your eyes again. There's a burning sensation behind your eyes, warning you the tears are only going to keep coming, and you can't stop them. Your throat closes up, and your chest feels heavy with the burden of the pain and betrayal you carry.
"Do I destroy everything I touch?"
You remember asking your father that one time, not too long ago. And maybe the answer is, you do.
Worthless. That's what you are; you're pathetic, and you're worthless, and you're so stupid.
It's your fault your friends have gone through what they have. A part of you subconsciously knows that's not true, but you can't think rationally right now, too into the betrayal, into the lie you've managed to dig yourself in.
The enemy has been next to you the whole time. How could you not see it? You gave your heart and soul away to someone who never wanted it. Instead, the man had taken your heart and soul, and searched within it for clues, for ways to destroy the other girls.
You let out a choked sob, and you swallow quickly, trying to rid yourself of the tears that have started to fall. You shouldn't be crying, you scold yourself. But the anguish rips through your heart anyway, and the tears suddenly won't stop falling.
"Aria?"
Spencer's voice shocks you out of your thoughts and you glance back at a drowsy, exhausted brunette, her head propped up by an elbow on the couch, looking worried. When she sees your tears, she's suddenly alert, getting up and makes her way over to where you are by the table.
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you," you whisper. Spencer only shakes her head to say you haven't done her any wrong, but you still feel guilty. She wraps you in one of her amazing, comforting hugs.
You feel angry, suddenly. Not at her, but at yourself. It's your fault, and you're the one being comforted while crying your eyes out. You should be... doing something. Anything.
You shake your head. Worthless.
"Hey," the taller girl whispers, breaking away from you, her hands placed on your shoulders, shaking you slightly, "we'll figure something out."
The burden shouldn't be put on Spencer, though. It's your fault. You feel guilty that Spencer feels like she has to do something to help you.
It's your fault you've hardly been affected by A at all, because he had needed you for an entirely different reason. While your friends were fighting for their lives, you had been shacking up with A.
You feel disgusting. You feel like a terrible friend, a terrible person.
"I need to go," you manage to get out. You can't even look at Spencer, who's been rubbing your arm softly, leaving trails of goosebumps.
And before she can reply, you're out the side door of the house, disappearing from her view.
...
You're at your house, in your room. It's dangerous being alone with nothing but your thoughts; you know that. But you shouldn't have to burden Spencer for something that you've only caused and harmed those around you for.
Your father's out on a business trip, your mother is off her with her new boyfriend, Mike is only god knows where.
But now you don't feel like screaming or crying or throwing something. The anger and pain of the betrayal has completely left you after an hour of crying in the car instead, and all you're left with is an emptiness inside of you. A feeling you can't explain.
It's in your very soul. Empty. Unfeeling. Nothing.
Because you're nothing.
Your phone buzzes, and you check it, only to see it's Spencer calling you. You refuse to answer her call. You don't want to talk to her, to hear her sympathy and comforting words that you know you don't deserve.
A small pressure builds in your head. It's not a headache; it's more of a weight pressing down in your brain. It's the pressure of your thoughts. The thoughts you have to carry around. Knowing you're nothing short of a waste.
You close your eyes, breathing out heavily. Your phone vibrates again, but you don't even have to check it to know it's Spencer.
She should stay away. She can't be near you; you'll only hurt her again. She can't be near you when you know you'll only lead her to more death and destruction.
The pressure in your head and chest only builds when you think of this, and you realize how painful it is to think of what you've done. A part of you knows you haven't done anything, but you don't listen to that part of your mind, because a larger part of you is screaming that you're the reason A knows so much about your friends.
So, now you tell yourself you have to stay away because you know you'll only end up causing more harm than good if you're near your friends.
Your phone beeps, indicating you have a text.
"Aria, I need to know that you're okay. Talk to me, please?"
You sigh, simply replying with, "I'm fine."
You don't want to talk to her anymore, so you just shut off your phone and lie in bed, suddenly realizing how cold you are, and you wrap the quilt over your shivering body.
Just stay away from them, and they'll be safe, you tell yourself, before closing your eyes against new tears and drifting off to sleep.
...
You're worrying Emily and Hanna; you know that. Coming to school late, dressed down in nothing fancy- usually sweats and a hoodie, even if it's a thousand degrees out- hair uncombed, bags under your eyes, no makeup. But you don't care how you look anymore. It's just been too exhausting to worry about anything, anymore. Who cares how you look? you've mused to yourself over and over again. It doesn't affect them.
You constantly see Hanna and Emily exchanging concerned glances, but you don't mention it, and they don't bring it up with you, either. You trust that Spencer hasn't told them anything, and they know something is wrong, but respect your privacy and trust you enough to bring it up with them when you're ready.
Spencer.
She is another matter entirely. She's walked with you to every class since the day you returned the Monday after the big reveal. She's sat close by you at lunch, squeezing your hand tightly, or running her hand up and down your arm. She keeps you alert. She makes sure you're caught up on homework if you haven't been paying attention in class. She makes sure you eat enough throughout the day.
Even at your house, she's there. You can't tell her not to come over, for the fear of hurting her. Instead, you selfishly gobble up the attention she's giving you- it's not that you're happy, per say, but there are moments when it really hits you that Spencer is always with you, not going anywhere, and it warms your heart.
She fills the void cut deep in your heart a little bit.
When you're in class, and he's standing up there, teaching whilst giving you sorrowful glances, Spencer will stare at you to make sure you're okay enough, that you won't break down in the middle of class.
It's been hard being in his class, you admit to yourself. Seeing him as composed as the day he first started teaching sends shivers down your spine. You don't find his soft-spoken, proud voice and his hand gestures while teaching sexy and gorgeous anymore. You find it creepy. It scares you.
He scares you.
How does he hold himself together so well? How had he managed to fool you for so long, even with his eyes?
One day after class, he requests to speak to you alone. You swallow nervously; Spencer is glancing at you in concern, but you silently tell her it's okay to go on ahead, that you'll catch up with her soon. He can't know that she knows, so she quickly leaves with one last look back at you.
He shuts the door behind Spencer. "Aria-"
He has no right to even breathe your name. Anger finds its way through you, suddenly. The first real, strong emotion you've felt in days. "How could you?" you manage to breathe out.
"I didn't think you'd ever find out." He sounds regretful.
"No?" you scoff, letting out an angry huff. "You... you..."
"I didn't mean for it to get out of hand like this," he admits softly.
"O-out of hand?" you let out a disbelieving laugh. "You've been stalking us for months- no, years- sending us creepy messages, harming my friends-"
"-but never you."
You shake your head. "I don't care. My friends are the most important people in my life. You almost... you almost killed all of them!" You're suddenly yelling, and you're sure you'll draw attention, but you don't care.
"Like I said, I never meant for it to go as far as it did."
"What do you mean by that? The threatening notes? The dangerous 'little games' you've been 'playing' with us? Almost killing us?" you manage to spit out, close to tears again.
"Never you, Aria. I've never done anything to try and harm you-"
That only makes you angrier. "Why? Because you're 'in love' with me?" You put air quotes around the "in love" part.
Ezra sighs, "I never meant to fall for you."
You nod, suddenly less angry and more sad. Letting out a long, tired sigh, you reply, "I know, Ezra. You only wanted to use me, to find out everything I know."
He looks visibly upset, but you can see the hardness about him. This is nothing more than something he feels he has to do. None of this was ever meant to happen.
You can almost physically feel the walls slowly closing around your heart, your face going from sad and tearful, to hard and cold. Your mind is suddenly clear, free of emotion, and you feel the familiar emptiness back in your heart and head.
"You were the older man Ali was seeing, weren't you?"
All he can do is nod.
You close your eyes in finality. "What happens, now? Do you kill me?"
He shakes his head. "I never hurt you before, Aria, and I don't intend to." He hesitates before adding, "but if you tell anyone-"
You give a grim nod, your jawline set. "I won't tell anyone." Too late. "Just promise not to hurt my friends anymore."
"I- you know I haven't been the only one after you four, right?"
Again, you nod. "But it'd still make me feel better if at least one of you stopped hurting us for good."
"As long as you tell no one-"
You nod before turning and walking away, knowing that's a promise you can't keep. Spencer knows, and you'll have to tell Hanna and Emily eventually.
...
Spencer takes you home later that same day. There's tension in the car between you two; you know she wants to know what you and... and Mr. Fitz talked about. The questions are practically at the tip of her tongue. You know you're going to tell her at some point, and you figure this is as a good a time as any, but the words can't seem to fall from your lips.
Luckily, in the silence of the car parked next to your house, she breaks first. "So, what happened after class?"
You let out a shaky breath. Instead of replying, you tell her you'll see her tomorrow. As you push the door open and lean to get out, she gently grabs your wrist.
"You promise you'll talk to me?" she whispers. Your heart almost melts at the gentleness of her tone and the concern in her eyes.
"Okay," is all you can manage to say.
...
You find yourself unexpectedly cold again, and you want to cry. Alone in your house for the night, and you suddenly want company. You almost smile at the irony.
The loneliness and the oncoming darkness of the house is like a metaphor for how your life is turning out to be. Empty and dark; there's no hope, no light. You are alone and empty and lifeless. Just like your house.
All you feel inside of you is... well, nothing. You can't feel. You can't think. It's even hard to breathe.
Worthless. Lifeless. Throwaway.
That's what you are, and you know it, and everyone knows it. You suddenly wonder why Emily and Hanna haven't made more of an effort to talk to you. You suddenly begin questioning why Spencer let you leave yourself to your own devices tonight. Where are your parents, your brother, your friends?
The familiar pressure of your thoughts weighs in your brain. It's a psychological effect, you know, but it still hurts somewhat. A weight presses down on your chest, making it difficult for you to focus.
Suddenly, you feel the need to breathe again, and you know Spencer is your lifeline. You quickly dial Spencer's number, praying she'll pick up.
"Hello?"
"Spence?" you let out a tiny whimper.
"Aria?" immediate concern creeps in the other girl's voice.
"Can you come over?" you manage to get out. It doesn't feel like you're talking at all. It's like someone else entirely is conversing with your mouth.
Who. are. you?
"Um..." there's some rustling in the background, and some muttered voices. "Yeah... yeah, hang on."
You shake your head, feeling stupid. "Are you with Toby right now?"
"Aria, it's okay. I'll be over soon, sweetie, okay?"
"N-no, don't worry about it. Stay with Toby."
"Aria-"
You hang up the phone.
Worthless. Pathetic. Alone.
You don't understand why you're feeling the way you feel. Deep down, you know your friends and family love you. But right now, you don't feel anything but pain and betrayal and the sense that, at any moment, someone could just as easily throw you away as he did.
Let Spencer be happy, you tell yourself. She's been by your side for days. She's probably tired of you and your emotional neediness. She wants to be with Toby. He can give her everything I can't...
You hold yourself tightly as you head up the stairs, trying to ignore everything you're thinking about. But you can't think of anything else to think about. She's suddenly wedged in your head.
You go in the bathroom, looking for toothpaste. Two kinds. You can't decide which. You want to scream in frustration. It hurts to think. You don't want to think. Your head barely hits the pillow on your bed before you're fast asleep.
Dreams. Of Spencer. Of him. Of being pushed off a cliff. Of being left behind, again. You wake up crying. You can't remember the dreams, but a part of you knows you don't want to.
And suddenly, Spencer's there, turning on the light in your room, looking worried as hell.
"S-Spencer? What're you...you doing here?" you ask, confused and slightly embarrassed. But those feelings are gone, and all you feel is defeat.
"I'm here because you're my best friend," Spencer says, moving toward you, and in a few strides, she's next to you, and suddenly she's sitting next to you in your upright position in the bed and she hugs you tightly around your tiny waist. "And I know you need me," she adds, softly.
But instead of feeling the comforting warmth and security you usually feel when Spencer's hugging you, you don't feel anything.
It's as if a Dementor has sucked your soul out of your body. A Dementor's kiss. You feel soulless and empty. It's hard to stare at your friend, let alone feel her presence next to you or her touch against your shaking body.
But you let out a fake, painful smile, replying, "I'm glad you're here, Spence."
She takes your hand in hers, but you can't feel it. You can't feel much of anything anymore.