Trigger Warning: As I stated in a previous chapter, Emily's self-harm will be expanded in detail. If you wish not to read about her cutting, skip the last four paragraphs of this chapter. If you decide to read it and it triggers you, please feel free to contact me to talk about it. I'm always here for anyone who needs me.

Chapter Four

At some point throughout the night, my phone battery died. I don't worry too much about it as I drive home because I know that my friends are unlikely to wake up and notice that I'm gone. Paige is probably asleep and won't text me until she wakes up in the morning. And my mother is such a heavy sleeper that she has no clue that her precious daughter snuck out to visit a girl who is thought to be dead.

Like I said, I don't worry about being disconnected from my phone until I pull up in my driveway and notice that my bedroom light is on. That means that one or all of the girls are awake. That means that they know that I'm not in my room with them. That means that I'm busted—that Ali and I are busted-unless, of course, they believe my story about being out with Paige.

I quickly and quietly turn off my car and head into the house, tiptoeing again up the stairs and into my bedroom, trying to hide the expression of guilt from my face. Aria, Hanna, and Spencer are sitting side by side on my bed. Spencer's face is buried in her hands, Aria crosses her arms over her chest, and Hanna looks at me as if I have two heads.

"How could you lie to us?" Hanna says more loudly than I had hoped she would.

I quickly shut my bedroom door so that my mom won't hear the commotion from down the hall. I sigh and close my eyes, leaning back against the door and hoping that this is all a dream. I do not want to be having this conversation with these girls right now. They have been my best friends and team during Ali's entire disappearance, and I already feel bad enough for betraying their trust by not telling them about mine and Alison's nightly rendezvous. But if I tell them anything, I will feel like I'm betraying Alison. Alison, who is suddenly doing everything she can to be the perfect girl for me.

"I did not lie to you, Hanna. I was out with Paige. I left you a note," I say, hoping with everything that I have that they will believe me. I just want to go to sleep and dream sweet dreams about my time with Alison. I explain that my phone died as I start to plug the device up to the charger.

"Like hell you were with Paige," Hanna responds angrily. "I tried calling you to see when you'd be getting home, just in case we had to cover for you if your mom happened to wake up. But your phone was off, so I called Paige. She was asleep, Emily, and she said she hadn't spoken to you since school let out this afternoon. After everything we've been through, you think that a lie told through a lousy note written on the back of your English homework is going to stop us from worrying about you when we wake up and you're missing? What the hell were you doing?"

Suddenly, I feel very small. I feel like I will let someone down no matter what I say. I feel like a failure to my friends, and, if I say one more word, I will feel like a failure to Alison. I am all that Alison's got, but these girls have been here for me when Ali never could be.

What am I doing? How have I gotten myself so twisted up in the lies and secrets? It's almost as if A has had his hand at all of this, without even saying a word or sending a text or a creepy package.

"Lay off, Han," Spencer says, tiredly coming to my defense. "We all have our secrets. Emily is home and safe now. Let's all just get back to sleep."

I smile and mouth my thanks to Spencer, but Aria pipes in with her own frustrations. "No, Spencer, Hanna is right. We trust each other with a lot of secrets. I think that goes without saying. It's time we start being more honest with each other. Where were you, Em?"

I close my eyes again and shake my head, trying to stop myself from saying the words that are about to spew out of my mouth. "I don't have to answer that question, Aria. I'm allowed to have secrets. God knows you have some of your own."

"No," Aria claims. "I don't keep secrets from any of you."

Maybe Hanna and Spencer don't notice it, but I can tell by the fear in Aria's eyes that she is lying. She has secrets. Just like Alison told me.

And I have to know what they are.

But first, I have to get myself out of this situation. I need them to calm down so we can let this entire night pass without any more arguments. So I sit down on the bean bag chair in front of my bed, facing my friends. "Paige and I are having problems."

"Is it because of Ali?" Hanna asks. "Does Paige know that she's alive? What did you tell her?"

"I haven't told her anything about Ali," I say, which isn't a lie. "Paige has been keeping secrets from me for a long time now. I was meeting with someone tonight—an old friend of Paige's. She was giving me some information that I needed in order to figure out the truth. I'm sorry I lied to you guys. I guess I'm just embarrassed."

The girls look at each other, obviously feeling guilty for being so hard on me. I feel guilty for lying…but have I really lied at all? I just left out some of the (very important) truth. And I'm doing so to protect myself and Alison. There's nothing wrong with that, in my opinion.

Spencer reaches down and grabs my hand to give it a comforting squeeze. "There's no need to feel embarrassed. We've all been in a situation where our partner wasn't being completely honest, and I think all of us would do whatever it takes to figure out the truth in those situations."

"Thanks, Spence," I say with a smile. "Now, can we all just go back to sleep? I'd rather call it a night and just forget about all of this."

Everyone agrees, and we all get into our respective sleeping places. Within a few minutes, Aria and Spencer have fallen asleep. But I can tell from Hanna's movements that she is far from dreaming.

"Hey, Em?" I hear her whisper.

"What is it, Hanna?" I ask, hoping that she doesn't ask any more questions about where I've been or what I've been doing. I hope that she just wants to say good night. And I hope that we don't wake up the other girls.

"Is Ali alright?" she asks.

I wish that this was a dream itself. I wish I didn't have to have this conversation with my best friend. Hanna is genuinely concerned, for my wellbeing and Alison's. And the fact that she's asking this question means that she knows something is up—she probably knows I've been seeing Ali.

"I don't want to talk about this here, Han. Not right now," I say, hoping she'll get the hint and let me sleep. But she doesn't get the hint. Instead, I hear her stand up, and then feel her grab my hand and pull me to stand up beside her in the middle of my dark bedroom. She leads me into the bathroom down the hall, flips on the light, and closes the door behind us.

"Is Alison alright?" she repeats more firmly this time.

I hop onto the bathroom counter and look down at my hands. "I don't know, Hanna. I can't say much right now. I'm doing what I can to make it all okay, but please, just…don't ask any more questions, because I can't lie to you, but telling the truth will put people in danger."

Hanna takes a seat on the edge of the bathtub and bites her lip. "You mean it will put Alison in danger. Why can't you just tell me what's going on, Emily? We all want to keep Ali safe." Except for Aria, I think to myself, but I don't bother interrupting her with that little piece of information. "I don't understand why it has to be a big secret from us."

Tears start to gather in my eyes. "Believe me, I want to tell you what's going on. I just don't know how without hurting someone, or everyone."

"I was afraid this would happen," Hanna says shortly. She rolls her eyes and I feel her building a wall between us.

"You were afraid what would happen?"

"I was afraid it would go back to the way things were before Ali disappeared. You and Alison always had something special that the rest of us couldn't even compare to. She loved you more than the rest of us. And you cared for her in a way that none of us could understand. We're all happy she's alive, Em. We all deserve to spend time with her and figure out what this big mess is. But instead of contacting all of us, instead of sneaking around to see all of her friends in the middle of the night, she just cares about seeing you. And you keep it a secret from us, as if we're the ones who caused her to disappear in the first place."

Before I can speak to defend myself and Ali, Hanna continues angrily. "And by the way, you'd better start being more careful with this back-from-the-dead girlfriend of yours. I got a text from A saying that you were out with Ali tonight. That's how I knew something was up. You're just lucky I didn't tell the others."

And with that, Hanna storms out of the bathroom and back into my bedroom, where she pretends to be asleep so that we don't have to continue our conversation. I, on the other hand, stay in the bathroom, stripping my clothes off quickly, grabbing my razor, and stepping into the shower. As I turn on the cold water, the dam breaks and tears start gushing out of my eyes. I am so overwhelmed with feeling like a failure and a liar and a disappointment to my friends. I don't know how to keep my facts straight, or my lies from crossing paths. I don't know how to keep secrets from the people that matter the most to me.

Through all of the difficult things that my friends and I have experienced over the years, I've always remained healthy—physically and emotionally taking care of myself. But now, I don't feel like I deserve that at all. I don't deserve Alison because I can't keep her safe. I don't deserve my friends because I can't tell them the truth. I feel like I deserve to suffer, to cry, to bleed.

The water is so cold that goosebumps are forming on my skin, but I don't turn it off. Instead, I lower the razor to my right leg and make one quick movement across my skin, slicing the flesh as deep as the razor will allow. I wince and cry out, dropping the razor. I quickly cover my mouth with my hand so that no one can hear my cries. Within seconds, the water rushing down the drain of the bathtub is pink from my own blood. The fresh cut on my leg stands out against my tan skin and the pink scars from a few weeks ago.

Part of me knows that I should stop doing this to myself, but part of me also knows that that might not happen for a while. I am hurting in ways that my brain cannot explain. My brain can explain cuts and scars. It can explain bleeding. But it cannot explain this heartache.