Author's Note: Okay, here we go. First, I sincerely apologize for the ridiculously long delay in updating. I've had a lot going on and haven't been writing as much as I'd like to. Second, I tried to edit this as quickly as possible to avoid further delay so I may have missed a thing or two. I had a couple more pages planned for this chapter but I decided to save those for the next installment and just get this out as is even if I'm not 100% satisfied with it, but I do hope to get the next part of the story out sooner or later. Lastly, thank you all so much for continuing to read this story and for leaving me reviews encouraging me to continue, your kind words really are the best motivation. Hope you enjoy!
The room settles into an eery silence. Emily is gone but Spencer, Hanna and Aria still remain, staring at her with wide sympathetic eyes. Alison blinks back at them like she's playing a game of chicken. Be the first to move and you lose. But she has nothing more to lose. She turns on her heels and runs out of the room.
"Where is she going? This is her house!" she hears Hanna call out as she reaches the top of the stairs. She takes them two at a time, her wobbly legs struggling to match her flight instinct. She passes Caleb in the living room. He stops and looks at her like he's preparing to say something but she throws the front door open and runs out before he gets the chance.
She runs through the grass, her shoes crunching the shattered plastic of the Bose Soundlink her father had bought her for Christmas. It feels fitting that the present lies in broken pieces on the ground. She never liked the thing anyway. Her father had given her the expensive bluetooth speaker along with several other lavish gifts for her first Christmas home, but he hadn't bothered to actually be home for the holiday. The gifts had been left neatly wrapped under the tree for her to open alone when she woke up.
Her feet don't stop till she ends up here. At their spot. It shouldn't be a place of comfort for her anymore but yet she's still drawn to it—the way she'll always be drawn to her despite the pain she caused her. Alison takes a seat on the graffiti covered rock, draws her legs to her chest and lets the sobs break free from her throat for the first time all day.
It's not like she had forgotten about that night with Emily but she had refused to allow herself to dwell on it. To even think about it. Whenever Emily's harsh demanding voice entered her head, she'd push it out. Whenever she remembered the feel of Emily's hands grabbing at her, driving into her, she'd rush to the shower and scrub her skin till she felt nothing. Hearing Emily cruelly taunting her as she pathetically begged the brunette to stop was like a punch to the gut. Instantly she had been transported back to being on her back with Emily hovering above her and the fear and humiliation had been just as real as it was that night.
She stays at the kissing rock till her tears run dry and her body no longer shakes with the force of her sobs, but shivers from the harshness of the cold. With her eyes swollen and her throat hoarse, she returns home. It's dark and her friends are long gone but she's not granted the small mercy of being able to slip inside unnoticed.
"Where were you?" Jason asks as she closes the door quietly behind her.
"Out," Alison croaks out, wincing at the roughness of voice.
Jason frowns at the non-answer. "I ran into Spencer when I got home. She was sitting out front waiting on you but I sent her home."
Alison doesn't respond to the information.
"She seemed worried about you," Jason continues, pausing for a moment to look her over. "Should I be worried about you, Ali?"
"You can be whatever you want to be," Alison says.
"Fine. Then I am worried about you, Ali," Jason decides. "What's going on with you lately?"
Alison shakes her head. "Nothing."
"Is it Emily? I know you two had a falling out recently and you've been…"
"I said it was nothing. Just drop it," Alison snaps sharply. She can't stand anymore questions about her and Emily.
Jason sighs and Alison can't help but feel guilty for shutting him out and disappointing him yet again.
"I can't help you if I don't know what the problem is, Ali," he tells her seriously.
Alison swallows down the ache in her throat. "You couldn't help me even if you did know."
She decides to skip school. Again. It's becoming a bad habit—shutting herself off till she has to the strength to face her again. She knows she can't afford to miss anymore class. She can practically hear Spencer's voice in her head as she lies in bed, admonishing her for her poor judgment, but she thinks she's entitled to a bad decision or two after the weekend she's had. She'll have to face the world eventually if she ever wants to actually graduate from that hell hole and get out of this godforsaken town, but not today. Not with the sounds of that night playing in her mind and the horrified faces of her friends in her head.
Alison groans as she shuffles groggily down the stairs. Why does the knocking always have to start when she's trying to nap.
"I swear to God, Spencer, if you don't stop knocking I'm going to kill you," she calls out as she nears the front door.
But it's not Spencer who's standing on the other side of the door.
"You weren't in school today," Hanna says in way of greeting when Alison opens the door.
Alison rolls her eyes, unimpressed with her guest's unannounced visit. "Who died and made you Rosewood High's newest truancy officer?"
"Relax. I'm not here to bust your chops, I just came by to check on you." Hanna says. "Spencer wanted to come but I thought you could probably use someone a little less… intense."
"I don't need anyone to check up on me. I'm fine," Alison grounds out, annoyed at being treated like some helpless victim.
Hanna pushes past her into the foyer, her eyes raking over Alison in the process. "You're definitely not fine."
Alison sighs and shuts the door, turning to follow her friend into the living room. "Hanna, I'm really not in the mood for company right now."
"Well, too bad cause I'm already here," Hanna shrugs, making herself comfortable on the sofa. "When was the last time you ran a brush through your hair? You look awful."
"Gees, thanks, Han. So glad you went out of your way to come by and insult me," Alison snarks in response.
"You're welcome," Hanna smiles without a trace of irony. She picks up an old interior design magazine from the coffee table and sits back, casually thumbing through images of country kitchens and minimalist bedrooms as Alison glares at her.
After a few moments, Alison rolls her eyes at the other blonde before giving in and dropping onto the other side of the sofa with a heavy sigh. Alison knows Hanna doesn't do the comfortable silence thing, or in this case, the uncomfortable silence thing, so she's not all that surprised that it takes less than a minute for the other girl to open her mouth and share what's on her mind.
"Look, Ali," Hanna starts, giving in and tossing the magazine back on the table. "I had no idea that Emily could do something like that."
"Neither did I," Alison admits.
Hanna wrings her hands nervously, her gaze wavering. "If I had known… if any of us had known…we would have…"
"It's okay, Hanna. I know," Alison assures her quietly. She knows what Hanna means, even if the other blonde can't manage to actually say it. Alison slumps back against the couch cushion, the weight of the moment overwhelming her, making her tired.
There's a heavy pause before Hanna leans forward intently and exhales, blowing the air out of her cheeks in one loud huff. "How did this all happen?"
When it becomes clear that Hanna's question isn't rhetorical and that she actually expects an answer, Alison shifts and runs a hand through her hair "I really don't want to rehash it. Besides, I thought Emily confessed," she says, the last word tasting bitter in her mouth. She can only imagine Emily tearfully confessing to their friends as if she truly regretted her actions, when Alison knows the only reason the brunette confessed to anything was because A made her.
"She did. I mean, she told us she was angry and got carried away but I just never imagined…" Hanna trails off, her brows knitting together as she tries to make sense of the situation. "That recording of the two of you was brutal."
Alison clenches her jaw at the mention of the recording she can still hear playing in her head. "Can we not do this right now?"
"Sorry," Hanna mutters, seeming to realize she may have over-stepped. "God. This is all so messed up."
Alison nods in quiet agreement.
"I feel like I don't even know her," Hanna adds with a regretful shake of her head. "It's like someone stole our Emily one day and replaced her with this new horrible Emily and I don't like the replacement very much."
Alison frowns, still feeling somewhat protective of the brunette who had hurt her so badly. "She's still Emily. She's still your friend." It's a weak defense but she's torn between her conflicting feelings for Emily and her guilt over Hanna's despair. She knows the girls' relationship with Emily has permanently been damaged and she feels responsible for that.
"Not after this. I can't be friends with a rapist!" Hanna cries.
Alison's eyes shoot up in shock. "She's not! Don't say that! How could you call her that?!"
"We all heard that recording, Ali. In fact, I can't get it out of my head. It just keeps playing over and over again like it's Rihanna latest single! Except it's not! It's the sounds of one of my friends raping another one of my friends!" Hanna cries, her voice rising to a shriek as she stands and strides away from the sofa.
Alison is standing too now, unable to curb her visceral emotional response to Hanna's words. "Shut up! Stop saying that! That's not what happened!"
Hanna turns back towards the other blonde and crosses her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry, Ali, but I know what I heard," she says decisively.
"You only heard a few seconds… it's a lot more complicated than that," Alison argues, her voice faltering and the fight fading from her eyes. She just can't reconcile that word, that act, with the Emily she's known and loved for so long. Or with herself for that matter.
"Look, I get it. You and Emily were whatever you two were, and now you're in denial. Spencer said you've been having difficulty accepting what happened."
She's going to kill Spencer. She hates that she's having this conversation in the middle of her living room and she hates the way Hanna is looking at her now, with such pity in her eyes.
"Spencer should learn to keep her mouth shut. She doesn't know what she's talking about. And neither do you," Alison grounds out hotly.
Alison watches Hanna exhale and take a couple of steps towards her. She wraps her arms around her middle, unsure if she's protecting herself from Hanna's outrage or her compassion.
"It's not that complicated, Alison. Emily's not who we thought she was. If she could do what she did to you then she's not a good person. She fooled us for long enough, I'm so done with that girl," Hanna says venomously.
"Hanna, don't hate Emily on my behalf," Alison pleads softly.
"Ali…" Hanna sighs, her disappointment reminding Alison of a previous conversation she had with Spencer. She never seems to say the right thing in these situations.
"No. Look, I know what Emily did was wrong," Alison starts.
Hanna rolls her eyes at Alison's simplification of the matter but Alison presses on.
"But she's still Emily. She's still the Emily who's been your best friend for years. The Emily who brings you soup and the latest copy of Vogue whenever you're sick. The Emily who makes you a handmade birthday card every year. The Emily who would risk her life for you," Alison points out.
For a moment Hanna looks torn between the memories of the sweet friend she's known for so long and the harsh demanding voice on that recording that had been the cause of Alison's heart-wrenching cries, but then she's shaking her head and digging her palms into her jean-clad thighs. "How can you defend her right now?" she demands incredulously.
"I'm not. You can hate what she did but don't hate her. Not because of me. I don't want to be the cause of any more hate," Alison says.
She used to relish in being able to get her friends, sometimes even the whole school, to turn on someone who had slighted her, but she tired of being that person, of having that power. She doesn't want to be responsible for any more hate in the world. She had put enough negativity into the world already.
She regrets going to school the second she steps foot in the building. She feels like everyone's staring at her. Just like they had when she had first come back to Rosewood. At least then she had her friends at her side, she had Emily. Or at least she thought she did.
She knows it's irrational, no one heard that recording except for her friends, but still she wonders if every whisper is about her, if every student staring at their phone and laughing is laughing at her. What if that's A's next move? To leak the recording to everyone in school so the entire town could bask in her humiliation. She feels sick at the thought.
Aria sidles up to her after first period and hardly leaves her side all day. It's not that Alison doesn't appreciate the company, it's just that she's not used to the other girl's vested interest in her life. Despite their shared interests in literature and older guys, she and Aria haven't always been the closest in the group. Alison knows that's her fault—she had exploited Aria's family's pain for her own gain and Aria understandably resented her for it. But now it seems Aria has appointed herself Alison's personal bodyguard and Alison can't help but smile to herself at the irony of sweet little Aria protectively starring down anyone who gets in their way.
"Hey so I was thinking of going to shoot some photos after school. Maybe swing by the park and take some pictures of those old oak trees," Aria says as she sets her lunch trey down next to Alison's and takes a seat on the uncomfortable cafeteria chair. "You want to come along?"
Alison picks at the turkey sandwich in front of her with a frown. "I don't know anything about photography. What use would I be?"
"I could teach you," Aria says cheerily. "Besides, photography can be pretty therapeutic. It helped me a lot when—"
"You think I need therapy?" Alison cuts in abruptly.
Aria's eyes widen, her mouth moving uselessly as she fishes for the right words to placate the offended blonde. "No! Well, yes…no. I mean, therapy might help…if that's something that you're interested in."
"Aria, relax. It's fine." Alison almost wants to laugh at the frazzled look on her friend's face but she can't help but be a little saddened by it too. She knows Aria had once been scared of her, afraid of what Alison might do if the tiny brunette didn't fall in line and bend to Alison's will, but she had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that Aria could forget that version of her and accept that she's changed now. But as she's learning with Emily, people don't just forget that kind of pain.
"Thanks for the offer but I think I'm going to pass. On the photography. And on the therapy," Alison answers pointedly.
Aria pouts in disappointment. "Okay, well if you change your mind… there's plenty of trees out there needing their picture taken."
"Trees?" Alison questions with a laugh.
Aria shrugs. "I'm trying to move away from the creepy doll thing."
"Thank God. You were staring to weird us all out."
She catches up to Spencer after the last bell of the day. She finds the brunette at her locker, shoving various books into her bag.
"Did you send Hanna and Aria to talk to me?" Alison cuts right to the chase.
Spencer takes a moment to peek her head out from behind her locker door before returning to her task. "What are you talking about?"
"Hanna and Aria… they both tried to talk to me," Alison explains, exasperated with this little playing dumb act Spencer is attempting.
Spencer eyes the blonde like she's crazy. "And your friends speaking to you is strange, because…?" she trails off expectantly.
"About Emily," Alison snaps. "They tried to talk to me about Emily. Like I need help."
Spencer shoulders her messenger bag."And what did they say exactly?" she asks curiously.
Alison rolls her eyes, annoyed with Spencer's nonchalant attitude. "Hanna accused Emily of being a rapist and Aria suggested I needed therapy," Alison whispers her response.
Spencer purses her lips and hums in response as she gently closes her locker.
"And I can see from your expression that you don't disagree with either of them," Alison notes drolly.
"Do you?" Spencer challenges as the pair start to walk towards the school's exit.
"Do I what?"
"Disagree."
"That I need therapy? I think that's pretty much a given at this point," Alison says drily.
"And what about what Hanna said," Spencer prods.
Alison rolls her eyes. "Don't start, Spencer. I know you put them up to it."
"I didn't send Hanna and Aria to talk to you. They came to you on their own because they're your friends and they care about you, Ali."
"Sure," Alison mumbles doubtfully. She feels a little guilty for doubting her friends now when they've been nothing but compassionate and supportive since that day in Spencer's great room when they had spotted the marks Emily's hands had left on her body, but with their history it was hard for Alison to accept their concern for her. Why should they care about her after all she's put them through? And why shouldn't she be a little bit wary when she had suffered the consequences of their mistrust before.
"Is it really so hard for you to believe that your friends might actually be worried about you after learning you've experienced something traumatic?" Spencer asks.
Alison has to bite her tongue to keep the biting response that enters her head from spilling out of her mouth. Instead she settles for a dismissive quip. "You guys can be so dramatic."
"Alison, maybe you should consider talking to someone," Spencer suggests.
"No. I'm tired of talking about this," Alison declares, her voice hard.
"Have you talked about it?" Spencer challenges.
"Isn't that what we've been doing? Talking about Emily," Alison cries. "I feel like that's all I do now. With you, with Hanna, Aria… hell, even Jason has been asking me about her. God, I'm so tired of talking about Emily. I just want to stop thinking about her." She massages her fingers into her scalp, as if that might erase the brunette from her mind.
"But you never say how you feel about what she did to you. Every time I try to get you to talk about it, you shut down or derail the conversation. It's okay to admit she hurt you," Spencer tells her gently.
"Hurt me?" Alison repeats the words contemptuously. "She destroyed me!" she cries, her voice thick with emotion and her eyes wet with unshed tears. Alison recalls a time when Emily had shouted those same words at her. She thinks it's only appropriate that they're the cause of each other's undoing. "And I'm supposed to talk about how that makes me feel, Spencer? Tell me how it's supposed to make me feel!" she spits angrily.
Spencer frowns at her friend's distress. "I don't know, Ali. Maybe you need to figure that out."
The color's not quite what she had in mind. It's a little more gray than blue but she supposes that's what she gets for making such a hasty decision. Maybe if she had the patience to actually listen to the salesman who tried to help her she would have chosen something different, but it'll get the job done. Besides, she thinks the color suits the room, suits her. She takes a step back to admire her handiwork.
"Ali, can we talk?" Jason's voice comes from the doorway.
"What's up?" Alison replies, throwing her brother a quick glance over her shoulder before returning to her task.
Jason steps inside her bedroom and looks at the mess of drop cloths and open paint cans on the floor. "What's with the paint?"
"I'm redecorating. I needed a change," Alison says with a shrug. And a distraction, she adds to herself. After her conversation with Spencer she had felt a bit unnerved and on edge. She needed something to get her mind off of Emily and her friends and A. She didn't appreciate her friend's accusation that she wasn't dealing with her feelings, even if her running to Home Depot to mount a hasty remodeling of her bedroom perfectly proved the perceptive brunette's point. But she was tired of looking at the same pale pink walls she had stared at while on her back beneath Emily all those times. She was tired of feeling trapped in this room where she had lost the girl she loved along with her self-respect.
Jason nods and takes the roller from his sister's hand. Alison moves to take the spare roller from the plastic bag of supplies on the floor and continues painting.
They paint quietly for a few minutes before Jason clears his throat to speak. "I'm moving in with Leah. Her lease is up at the end of the month and we decided to get a place together in Philadelphia."
Alison freezes mid paint stroke. "Already? You've only been dating for a couple of months!"
"I know it seems like it's soon but it's serious. And I want to spend as much time with her as possible," he tells her.
"Do you love her?" Alison asks suddenly, curious if her brother is capable of expressing the emotion that always seemed a touch out of reach for her. Her eyes remain glued to the wall, intently watching as pink becomes gray beneath her paint roller.
Jason nods. "Yeah, I do."
Alison smiles. At least one of them is normal. "When are you moving out?"
"Saturday," Jason answers hesitantly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
"This Saturday?! That's in three days!" Alison exclaims in disbelief. She'd never begrudge her brother his happiness and she liked Leah a lot, but this was all happening so quickly. She feels like she just got Jason back in her life and now she's going to lose him again.
"I know. I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner but you've seemed kind of down lately and I didn't want to bring it up and make you feel worse, so I've been putting off," he explains guiltily.
"It's fine," Alison says, trying to keep her voice neutral. "So shouldn't you be packing right now?"
Jason winces as if he knows his next statement will not be well-received. "I've actually been gradually packing up my things and sneaking them out of the house when you weren't around for the past week."
"Oh," Alison mouths quietly. "I'm sorry you thought you had to keep this from me."
"Ali."
"I'm happy for you, Jason. Really," Alison says sincerely, turning to give him a genuine smile.
Jason exhales in relief. "Thanks. And don't worry, I'll come visit all the time. You'll probably see more of me than you ever did in the past. You're gonna be sick of me after a while."
Alison smiles as if she believes him but her eyes betray her doubt.
"You're a terrible painter," Alison remarks after a moment, eager to change the subject.
Jason rolls his eyes and chuckles. "Oh, well excuse me, Picasso. I was just trying to help. Besides you're hardly doing much better yourself."
"Please. I covered twice as much space as you did since you started," Alison brags.
"It's not a race, Ali," he tells her with an amused shake of his head.
"No. But if it was, I'd be winning," Alison states matter-of-factly, her lips curling into a slight smile.
"Your section is all streaky! Look at mine, it's perfect! This is how you paint," Jason says proudly.
"Yeah if you want to be here all day," Alison grumbles.
"Oh, you got somewhere better to be?" Jason asks.
"As a matter of fact, I do," Alison declares, placing her roller down in the paint trey on the floor. "My brother is taking me out to dinner to make up for the fact that he's leaving me alone in this house with our crazy father."
Jason laughs. "Right. Go wash up, you got paint on your face."
Alison turns to look in her vanity mirror before looking back at Jason with a quizzical look on her face. "No I don't."
Jason quickly thrust his arm out and taps the roller against her nose. "Now you do," he says with a huge grin.