Disclaimer: See last chapters.

A/N: I've had some recent trouble on Fanfiction; hence why I haven't updated in a while. One of my previous stories – Finding Justice – was copied and pasted by someone, who only changed the names and then posted it as their own; which upset me because that story took me so long, and had one of my highest reviews. But yeah, hopefully the story will be taken down soon, I hope.

~ Chapter Thirteen ~

~ Sonny's POV ~

I look around the room I find myself in when I wake up; biting my lip as I try to think about what happened. I can't remember anything, I can't remember a thing. It's as though everything in the past nine months has been a blur, it's all mixed into one.

I can't breathe, I can't sleep, I can't stop thinking;

Am I dead?

Is he gone?

Am I finally alone?

I shake my head and carry on looking around the bright white room, trying to find a way out. Tears run down my pale cheeks when I give up – there is no way out of this place – I could be stuck here forever.

I sink down to the floor and curl up in a tight ball, sobbing as I try to think of how I can get out of here. I want Chad to hold me in his strong arms and tell me that I am going to be be okay, I want him to take me into his arms and kiss me softly and tell me that he never did give up on me and then I could lie to him and tell him that I never gave up on him either; it wasn't a big lie, just something for them both to cling on.

I would cling to him and cry into his chest, and try and make out like that man never did hurt me, he never raped me, he never beat me within an inch of death. I would try and pretend that I was okay because I don't want to be a victim anymore. I've been a victim for nine months now, I don't want to do it anymore.

I can smile in front of everyone, and cry when I'm alone.

I can laugh in front of my friends, and scream when I'm alone.

I can be Sonny, and not Alison.

I can crack a few jokes, here and there, I can join in with fun, and then curl up in bed and close my eyes tight when I'm alone.

I can act the part that's expected of me, and then show how I really feel when I'm alone.

I can scream, and cry, and throw things across my room when I feel like.

There's no limits; I'm free. I can smell the freedom and it's beautiful. It'd be so beautiful if I wasn't scarred, if I wasn't ruined.

I can pretend that everything is fine, everything is okay.

But, here I am alone; there's no point in pretending.

I want to die.

Why can't I just die?