Author's Note: If anyone is reading this...this one really sucked. Don't even start with me. I tried to make it cool and descriptive or whatever, but it's not. It sucked. This is what happens when Kayson writes at 1 AM.

Day One-Hundred Forty-Seven: Back to Black by Amy Winehouse

This situation was so messed up.

Alison had gone missing. Alison's body turned up. Except…it wasn't really Alison's body. Alison was still alive, just hiding out. But in the time that the girls thought she was missing, they somehow made amends with the people Alison had wronged in the past, including Toby Cavanaugh, Mona Vanderwaal, Jenna Marshall, and a few others. Spencer had even done the unthinkable with Toby; she started a relationship with him.

The two of them were total opposites; if he was fire, she was ice; if he was blow, she was puff; if he was the wind, she was the sea. It never seemed like it would work, but it somehow did. She was everything new to him and he was the same to her. It seemed like paradise.

Little did she know, there was trouble in paradise. He was not only betraying her, but he chose to do so with the very girl who made both of their lives hell for so long. Apparently, there was something about sexual tension that always existed between the two and one day, it just became too much. From the way he described it, it didn't even sound like he regretted it at all.

Apparently, nobody ever told them that there was nothing more dangerous than a woman scorned.

She saw red that night. How dare he betray her for that…bitch. That was all she ever was and all she'd ever amount to. Obviously, if he was that stupid to run to Alison DiLaurentis, of all people, he deserved to die.

Maybe she was just much too proud to admit that she was heartbroken. She didn't even allow herself to cry. She thought she could make it without him in her life. She could live without ever hearing from him.

And what she had planned certainly guaranteed that.

She somehow managed to find the place they'd be meeting. It was some secluded motel in the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania. She donned her black hoodie and carried nothing but a gun wrapped in a beautiful silk Hermès scarf. It was black. Of course, the only thing she had brought with her aside from that was a bobby pin. How else was she supposed to slip into the motel room?

At first, neither one of them even realized that she was in the room with them. It took her clearing their throat for them to even notice.

"Spencer?" Alison asked.

"Don't act so surprised," she answered with a look of disgust. It was killing her that they seemed this aloof and unknowing.

"What do you want?" he inquired.

"Revenge," was the only thing she could form. "The two of you are just so dumb. Especially you, Toby. You already know that it's never going to work with her. Sure, you know her like the back of your hand. But I ruined her for you. And we both know it."

Suddenly, he looked like he was caught in the act. His eyes looked almost…pleading. It almost made her want to cry. She sighed. "You know we could've been something. I have my own problems, but…you made me feel special."

"Why are you saying this?" Alison asked.

"Shut up, Alison!"

Before Alison could retort, there was a gunshot. Alison looked down numbly. Spencer had shot her in the stomach and she was now bleeding. Toby moved to help her, but before she could, Spencer interrupted: "Save your energy, Toby. She's going to die even if you call 911 right this second. And you are, too."

He got up slowly, walking towards her. He was only about a foot and a half away from him. He'd surely die if she shot him in that instant. Still, she didn't move.

"Spencer—"

"It kills me to do this, Toby. But now, you've seen it. So you have to go, too."

"Wait, Spencer!" he exclaimed. "We don't have to tell anyone about this."

"What?" she inquired, taken aback.

"We don't have to tell anyone about this," he repeated.

She looked like she was about to put the gun for a second. But only for a split second. After a loud bang, his fingers pulled away from his torso to reveal blood, sticky and the color of chardonnay. The smell was overwhelming. Alison was still clinging onto life, but Spencer wasn't about to lose it on a bloody, passionate rage.

"It's killing me to do this," she said to herself. "I loved you, but obviously, it's not enough."

With that, Spencer left the scene before anyone could even report the gunshots and the murder.

Spencer pulled her black Hermès scarf closer to her neck as she dabbed her eyes during the funeral service.

"Can you believe they died so young?" Aria inquired.

"I'm so sorry, Spencer," Hanna told her.

Spencer just sniffled in response to all of it.

Now, she was back to black. Only…it wasn't the black of that damned hoodie. It was the black she'd worn to their funeral.

Nobody would find out the truth of that night. She was sure of it. There was nothing to tie her to that night: no gun, no DNA, no evidence, no guilt. She was free at last.

Sarah: I'm on the fence about most of my classmates (some, I know are flat out awful, but others are kind of...they have good points and bad points). IT IS IMPORTANT. I'm not even discussing this on the story anymore because I truly feel the need to talk to you privately, out of public view.

I guess I'll post some of these on tumblr since it seems no one reads this anyway...

The next one-shot will be Break My Fall by Lana Del Rey and I seriously did the Queen an injustice because it is AWFUL. -Kayson