Got A Secret: Chapter Two: Off The Deep End

"The sinkhole was always there. It was just waiting for something to trigger it."

~Paul Pilney


I'd always hated waiting. It seems like the only thing I've done for the past two years.

Waiting for my dad to tell my mom.

Waiting for Alison.

Waiting for normal.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

Yet it seems the more I wait, the less likely things become. Normal will never come. Alison will never to return to set things right again. And now I wait again. At least this time I am not alone.

"Do you want a coffee?" Hanna's voice is low, barely above a whisper.

I nodded.

"Me too." Spencer's grumble comes from beneath my jacket that has been crumpled into a pillow. .

"I'll be back in a minute."

Hanna rose and headed down the stark hallway, the click of her heels echoing loudly.

"Aria?"

Slowly, my eyes drifted to the soft voice. It's Emily's mom.

"Why don't you girls go home. Emily's..." Her voice cracks. "in surgery. They say it'll be a few hours before they're done. I'll call you the minute she's out."

"Are you sure? We can stay..."

"No. Go get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day."

I glance at my watch. It already is tomorrow.

Spencer lifts her head. "Alright. I'll take Hanna home with me. Aria, do you want to spend the night too?"

I shake my head. "No, I need to go home. Actually," I glance at my watch again, "I've got to go now. Have Hanna give Emily's mom my coffee?"

Brows furrowed in confusion, Spencer agrees.

"I'll see you later."

"Alright."

Jacket in hand, I head out into the darkness.


I heard the yelling before I'd even unlocked the front door.

"You leave to give me space; to give me time to figure things out, and you spend the night with her! I can't even believe this!" My mother's words are punctuated by the shattering of glass as something is hurled against the wall.

I can't make out my father's response. Then again, I'm not sure if I want to.

I glance at the clock. 2:30 A.M. I can't help but wonder how long they've been going at it.

Though fatigue, accompanied with a pounding headache is beginning to set in, I briefly wonder if I can handle staying the night. As another of my mother's sobs echoes around the house, I know I cannot.

Haphazardly, I throw clothes and toiletries into a bag. The sweats I'd been forced to discard the previous day find their way back onto my body. Though the comfort they provide is minimal, it's enough to keep me going.

Tears brimming in my eyes, I leave the house. The last words I hear are from my mother.

"I want a divorce."