•

"I'm Your Puppet"

"Hey, it's Jason. I'm not here right now,
leave us a message and I'll get back to you."

BEEP.

"Hey — it's me... Halle," she said. Even to her, Halle sounded pathetic. Her voice was already wrecked with emotion, strained through her scratchy throat.

Sitting on the closed lid, Halle barricaded herself in a bathroom stall. It was a tight squeeze. Despite having gone in there for space, it seemed to mock her. The air she breathed in was clinical — full of chemicals with and with underlining artificial strawberry from the hand-soap attempting to mask it. It overwhelmed her; brought on a throbbing ache in her temples. But, Halle powered through it. She needed this space — a little privacy — and this yellow-lit bathroom was all she had.

With her eyes dropped to her lap, focusing on the stitched thread of her black skirt, Halle continued to talk to her ex's voicemail. "I know you said not to call, I know me not calling makes this..." She paused, unable to find the right words. "Makes us— makes our—" She clenched her eyes shut, cringing. Halle ended up hating what had become of them. She didn't even know what to call them, so Halle decided not to talk about it at all.

Halle took a deep breath and said, "Spencer — she's ill, she's in Radley." She downplayed the severity of it. "It's only a seventy-two hour hold thing, she'll be out once it's over, but... she's not doing too good, Jason, and I thought you ought to know what was going on with your—" Sister, she wanted to say but wouldn't. "With her," spoke Halle instead, self-correcting. "So, yeah. Call me back, or don't. Just..." The pressure on her chest suffocated her. Too tight, all the air around Halle disappeared and the gasping began. It was short, painful, but Halle got through it. "Let me know you got this, okay? Bye," she finished but it weakened her to do so.

Ending it, while Halle's hand with the mobile dropped, her other shot up to her mouth. She smothered it as the sob worked through her shaken body. It hurt. The dagger in her heart still plunged within her; bruised flesh grew around it because the blade couldn't be removed. Halle'd learn to live with the pain of this heart-break forever in her. Every time she'd move, it would inflict a sharp sensation. Soon enough, Halle get used to it. She'd tolerate it until it became her normal.

But, for now, she needed a friend. She needed to solve something — to ease it somehow.

Halle sucked back another cry. She put a stop to them and lifted the phone again. She went into her contacts, strolled until she found his name, and pressed the 'call' button, waiting as she put it to her ear. Again, the dialling sound rang out, and Halle got another voicemail.

"This person is unable to take your call.
Please leave a message at the sound of the beep."

BEEP.

"You're freaking coward, Toby Cavanaugh," Halle blurted out, no remorse in her voice. Gone was the fragile girl and in her place reared the ugly, venomous demon who acted on all of Halle's worst instincts. "You are a coward and I hate you for being a coward," Halle raved. "You should be here, you should be— You promise my kid-sister you'd fix her toy chest, you ass," she abruptly cursed. "You don't do that, you don't do that to a kid—" Halle felt her eyes well up again. The water blurred her sight, head craned back to keep the tears back and at-bay but only succeeded in having them run down the side of her face and into her hairline. "You don't promise her something and back out, you don't—"

A sob tore from Halle. Her head crashed down, tears spilled from her, frame shaking with them. "Toby," she wept. "Please call me or Em back. No, please call me back," she begged pathetically, "I really need you right now. Spencer really need you right now and—"

The door creaked open and Halle immediately cut herself off. Softly, she gasped; her trembling hand flew back to her mouth to muffle the sound of her cries.

"Hal?" Aria's small voice checked in.

Halle braved speaking aloud. Despite her tight throat, straining to even breath, she manged to croak, "Yeah?"

"It's time, we can go in now," Aria said, and Halle cleared her throat.

"Okay, one sec," Halle called back shakily.

Praying that was it, Halle was disappointed when Aria's footsteps approached rather than retreated. A tiny — perhaps the gentlest — knock rapped onto the cubical door, and Aria stood right outside it. "Halle, are you okay?"

Halle flushed co-dependency down the toilet. She was too proud to open up and let Aria she wasn't doing too good. Look at where they were, Halle cursed her own mind, have some self-awareness. This situation wasn't her own; it wasn't about her. How could Halle be struggling? How could she need help if this is where Spencer was? The horrendous truth was, there was never a right time for Halle to break down. Her friends needed her constantly, and Halle liked to be needed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Halle said, coughing. "I'll be right out."

She heard heels back away from the door, but Halle never heard them leave. Exhaling forcibly, after a jagged breath in, Halle stood up and wiped at her face. She brushed her hands over her hair and tousled it up, pushing more into her face to mask some of the redness. Then, she flushed the toilet and exited the stall.

Her lips lifted slightly, and Halle went to the sink. She tucked her phone into her jacket pocket and reached for the strawberry hand-soap. All the while, as Halle washed her hands under the warm tap, Aria kept her eyes fixed onto Halle.

"It's okay if you're not okay, you know," Aria gently reminded.

That's not true though, Halle almost replied, I'm not allowed to break down. The one time she did, Halle got make to feel terrible and had to sit in their favourite coffee shop and justify her anxiety attack like a chore.

"I'm fine, I'm good," Halle said, as she shut off the water. "Let's go see Spencer."

The lights had been dimmed at night. The usual strip-lights overhead had been turned off and the wall-mounted cosy lights were on instead, casting a golden light up in streams towards the ceiling. The visitor room was kept warmer than the reception and the stillness of it surprised Halle greatly.

Behind the lady in a white nurse's uniform, the four friends crossed into the patient-area. Alone, undisturbed by anything — people or entertainment — Spencer sat slumped at the furthest table away. It was even darker there, dimmer than where a young girl played chequers with what appeared to be her grandfather at a table; or the corner where a group of three watched a cartoon on low.

"You have visitors," the nurse spoke, but Spencer remained unresponsive. So, the nurse called for her attention. "Spencer?"

At the slight raised, sweet-natured voice, Spencer spun her head around. The rest of her body stayed fixed, limbs slumped in thick grey dressing gown and feet tucked away into fluffy-edged slippers. For the first time, Halle noticed how grey Spencer's face looked. Her eyes had sunken deep into their sockets, almost dead. She was really grey, Halle thought miserably, she looked really ill. Halle was just as uncomfortable as the rest of them, but feared that it was easily read more on her features than the others.

Although, it wasn't the true. Aria, Emily and Hanna all wore their apprehension clearer. Aria appeared downright terrified to be there, trembling as she picked at her nearly-wrecked cuticles. Emily put on a brave face, but her eyes teared up every five seconds. Hanna, on the other hand, paled with her determination. She hadn't wanted to be there again, so soon. Hanna hated how she knew every turn and which doors needed a key-card to get through; or how she was the only one who hadn't needed to strip off a potentially harmful item from her clothing. The familiarity drove Hanna to resentment.

To the girls, the nurse informed, "I'll be in the hall if you need me." She gifted them each a sympathetic smile, as if she knew too well how hard these first visits were. Her soft face, wrinkles folded in by the eyes, gave them some reassurance even if she left straight after it just entered them.

They were cautious as they ventured over. Emily nudged Halle forwards, eyes on the far chair of the table, beside Spencer and the large puzzle spread out across its surface, unfinished. Decidedly, Halle took to that seat while Emily grabbed another from an empty table to bring to them. Hanna sat opposite Spencer; Aria next to the withdrawn the girl while Emily positioned herself between the two. The actions only caused Spencer to curl further in her dressing gown.

"Hey," Emily met, softer than ever. She was very delicate with her tone, precise but careful. "You knew we were coming, right?" She smiled. "We spoke to your mom."

Aria inserted, wanting to assure, "We wanted to be here the first day."

"But," Emily interrupted her, "she said you were gonna he home tomorrow, so..."

Spencer spoke with a slight tremor. "She still believes that?"

It stunned them — how a question could sound so abrasive. The seventy-two hours were up now; the plan was always that Spencer would come home after.  "Why wouldn't she?" Halle asked.

"She's naïve," Spencer said, growing in great bitterness. "She thinks I'll be able to sleep through the night if I just take a nice bath and lay in my own bed?"

Emily tried, "I think what she wants is—"

"I know what she wants," Spencer cut in, "but they don't make a loofa that scrapes out the inside of your head." Very pointedly, she aimed her permanent scowl at Halle, "You know that better than anybody."

Halle nodded, trying not to cast her eyes down in shame. She had nothing to be ashamed of. "I know," she said. "That's why I'm— why we're here."

"Right," huffed out Spencer. The dead look behind her eyes, the pupils blown out on whatever depressant the doctors had her on to ease the pain inside, made her friends cold. They shivered under her stare, stewing in the uneasy silence Spencer created for them to dwell in.

Hanna, the most peeved by her environment, surveyed the group. Every scrap of sensitivity had been exhausted from her and left at the wrought-iron gates out front. She sighed and got straight to the point. "The park rangers found a body."

Spencer's gaze snapped to the blonde while the three others scolded her, "Hanna!"

"What?" Hanna said in defence, "The sooner she knows, the sooner she checks out of this place."

Emily only half-agreed — that was the aim of their visit. Grimacing a false smile, Emily turned to Spencer ready to explain. "What Hanna is trying to say is—" she made a throw-away dig at Hanna without even looking, "we have good news."

"News," Halle flatly jumped in to correct, "just news."

"They found a body in the woods," Emily revealed to Spencer, who narrowed her eyes as she listened closely. "The police think it was a camper."

In a trance, Spencer spoke, "It was Toby."

Stumbling, shocked at just how tortured her best friend was, Aria attempted to remain as soft and cautious as the nurse outside instructed them to be. "No, Spence, it wasn't." Gently, Aria shook her head and said, "This person, he'd been missing for a while and he was nowhere near where you thought you saw—"

"I know what I saw," Spencer interrupted, her voice not much louder than a whisper. It was astonishing how much power she still held even while it seemed she had crashed and burned into the ground. "It was Toby."

"No," Halle was the only one to challenge that, "it wasn't."

Spencer turned away in disgust.

"Hey—" Aria dialled up her enthusiasm, sounding more sweet and energetic, "so, um... I was thinking tomorrow night, when you get home, we could all—"

"I need to stay here." Spencer's abrupt plea sliced through any support given. She refused it — refused their help openly — and told them why. "I need more time," she said.

"Time for what?" asked an impatient Hanna, groaning.

Emily warned, "Hanna."

However, Hanna just grew more resentful in that moment. She spitefully fired through gritted teeth, "Shuffling around in Mona's old slippers isn't gonna get her any better."

"Hanna, chill," Aria said calmly.

"—You know what—" Hanna took aim at Spencer, "I would not dine here if I were you, I had to sneak around in that kitchen, and I saw a roach big enough to wear an apron!"

Aria's jaw had locked. "Moving — on."

Yet, Hanna relented. She glared daggers at an apathetic Spencer. "You are not crazy," she fumed. "This place is."

Spencer's face barely moved, not even a twitch; she hadn't been affected by Hanna's passionate outburst. "I'm too tired to have this fight with you right now, guys," said Spencer. She rose from her chair and began to walk away, only to stop within a metre of the table. Turning back, Spencer confided in them, "I feel safe here. Those bars don't just keep you from getting out, they keep other people from getting in."

The damage had been done. The pain of this conversation — no matter how brief it had been — had inflicted the slices to their skin. The four girls, all in some sort of mixed, elevated state of mourning, exited the visitor's room to find Dr Sullivan waiting for them. She wanted to reprimand them also — a scolding to the back of their knuckles for what she had just witnessed.

"I expected better from you girls," Dr Sullivan delivered. She had brought the four into a private room, off of the main reception, and forced them to sit on the long leather couch as she lectured them. "Especially you, Hanna," the therapist said. "After all you went through with Mona and that's how you treat Spencer? I am ashamed of all of you."

"Dr Sullivan—" Halle tried, but the therapist got in there first.

"If you don't stand up to your friends, then how are you supposed to stand up for each other? You girls are meant to be best friends," Dr Sullivan said, appalled. "We monitor the first meetings between patients and loved ones here to help better understand relationships and how to proceed with treatment, but what I saw of your girls was not the group I helped last year."

She continued, "You need to be more sensitive, more supportive. How would any of you like it if one of your friends spoke to you like that? Or if someone else spoke to your friend like that?" she shot out, and they each knew the answer and it wasn't good for the other person. "Your language — crazy, weak, nut-farm — shaming Spencer for being at Radley — is troubling," said Dr Sullivan seriously. "It can damage people more than you know. I want you all to be more considerate," she instructed. "Educate yourselves, do better," she said. "When Spencer is out, I'd like to do a group session if you're all up for it."

"That sounds great, Dr Sullivan," Emily said, quietly, with her head hung low. They all had their heads dipped, avoiding the woman's stare.

"Good, I'm glad," Dr Sullivan said. As the girls stood, ready to leave, the therapist added sincerely, "I want you girls to be kinder to each other. There's no need to go so hard on your friends when you're already too hard on yourselves."

•

The green in the centre of town had begun to get busy. It was just after eight in the morning, the new sun beating like a chaste kiss upon Halle's skin. It was one of the last dry days of good weather — perfect for the celebration of the church bell going up. Tonight, the entre centre was scheduled to be packed with people there to hear the first gong of the bronze bell as part of the traditional Founder's Festival, now bigger than ever with a carnival theme.

Halle, more willing than last year, bore the weight of carrying boxes to and from the car to the allotted section her mother had been given as part of raising money for the church collection. She put down a cardboard box filled with paper plates and silver napkins on one of the tables; there were three set up in a horseshoe shape. On the front table, Halle's mother held firmly onto Riley's waist as the nine-year-old had her yellow sunflower trainers on the table as she pinned her homemade banner that Riley had worked brilliantly on.

"That looks greats, sweetie," Luisa complimented. "The second 'C' needs to be a little more to the right— yeah, that's it— that's great!"

"Mom," Halle drew the attention towards her as Riley fidgeted with the 'CUPCAKES' banner. "What else do you need?"

"There's the fridge in the trunk," Luisa mentioned. "All my buttercreams and frostings are in there," she said, "you need to unplug it from the generator— I'll be over in a sec to help, okay?"

"It's fine, I got it," Halle said, with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"No, Hal— Riles, oh, be careful," Luisa said, eyes snapping to her youngest as Riley tried to jump up to reach the highest point of the wooden frame hung above the front table. When Luisa looked back up, Halle was already walking back to the car.

It was a straight line from their spot on the green to the car, parked curb-side for the very reason of accessibility. Mindlessly playing with the keys, jangling them within her clutch, Halle hadn't noticed the two figures walking down the sidewalk until her name was being called.

"Halle."

Noel was already grinning at her, putting her at ease with how they had managed to knock out the passive-aggressive awkwardness and level out as somewhat friendly again. But Eric stood beside him, them both nearing the exact car she needed to get to.

"Noel, hey," Halle greeted as she came closer to the pair of brothers. Her smile transpired into a gentler, more pressed, almost sad version of the one she gave to Noel when her gaze tracked over to his older brother — her ex-boyfriend. "Eric," she said, breathless due to the fact she was caught off-guard by seeing him.

In the same tone, with that usual glint of mischief in his eyes, Eric said, "Halle — good to see you." He moved his blues quickly down her then back up again, smiling as he finished on her face.

"You too," she replied and really meant it. Eric appeared happy than last she saw him — like some weight had been lifted off him. Maybe Halle was aggrogant enough to believe it had something to do with her, with the closure they both gifted each other at their last encounter.

Noel seemed to gather from the way the both of them were smiling, it was about to spiral into 'how've you been' and everything after — that familiar push and pull the ex lovers always tended to fall into, knowing how exactly how to respond to the other or drop in a comment to get a precise reaction — and Noel didn't want to have to deal with it that early morning. He rolled his eyes and exhaled, "What's going on? You helping your mom set up?"

"Yeah, I, uh, got roped in," Halle said, focusing on Noel once more. It didn't stay there long before Eric spoke.

"Again," Eric put in knowingly. "Happens every year, the church survives winter on money from your mom's cupcakes."

"Well, I might be bias, but they are the best," Halle boasted proudly, smiling all the while.

"They are," Eric agreed. He smiled, also. "I've missed them."

I've missed you, Halle could almost hear him say next.

But it never came.

Eric never said it like Halle believed he would. He wouldn't drop it in light-heartedly — half-joking, half-serious — a whole attempt at shameless flirting. But he didn't, and Halle was left thoroughly shocked.

"Dad wrote a big cheque yesterday, mom handed it in to the new pastor," Noel was busy telling Halle, yet she wasn't really listening that well. "Now, mom's gone and volunteered us to set up the kids' tent for face painting."

Brotherly, Eric slapped Noel on the back and grinned. "Need us strong guys to put up, don't they?"

Halle snapped back down to reality — out of her own head now — and chuckled. She asked, "You think I could ask those same strong guys to help carry the fridge over to our stall? Or do I have to get your mom to volunteer you?"

"Just ask and point," Eric responded, eager to step up.

"Well, in that case—" Halle clasped her hands together, beaming, "the fridge is in the trunk," she said, pointing at it with one finger, "and the generator needs to go, too."

"Got it," Eric said, and he instantly went to rolling his sleeves up past his elbows, tucking the fabric up and under. His hand landed onto Noel's shoulder and his squeezed his grip there twice. "Don't worry, little bro, I'll leave the generator for you," he jested, still smiling at Halle and she smiled back like she didn't hear his dig at Noel.

Simply, Halle wore that smile graced upon her lips as she led Eric to the car. She pressed the 'release' button on the keys and the trunk popped. Noel watched on with a frown on his face while Eric took over and lifted the trunk-door, chatting rather animatedly with Halle as he did so. Noel just just got her back and now she slipped like sand right out of his fingers; Eric was there with a bowl beneath to catch the fallout.

"So, how's college going? Your DA internship finish yet?" Halle asked him, her leaning in to plug the fridge from the generator.

"Uh, actually, the internship ended in May." He revealed to her, "I'm working there now, I started in September," and Halle lit up like she was genuinely proud.

"Wow, I had no idea," she said. "You never..." Halle blinked several times then finished, "mentioned it."

"We don't catch up often — I wanna hear about you," Eric said. He picked up the heavy, small fridge and groaned a little as he did so. "Besides—" he glanced at her over his shoulder, "last time I saw you, your friend was kind of bleeding on the floor of my cabin, so not the best time to bring up my internship."

"You got me there," Halle said, laughing lightly.

Eric looked over at Noel. His eyes scanned his brother waiting for movement. "Come on, don't make her carry it, bro," he joked, "don't dirty the Kahn-name."

"Like you'd let him," Halle quipped and shoved Eric's back. They both chuckled, playfully accepted into their inner-circle again, even if it was just for this specific moment. She made certain to push Eric onwards, pointing out her mother and sister at their stall, and watched his head off with the fridge. Then, her soft stare settled onto Noel. "You don't have to, I can manage the generator," she said.

"No—" Noel came towards her, "can't dirty the Kahn-name," he said, almost as though the whole thing tasted bitter in his mouth.

"You good?" Halle asked quite innocently.

With the generator in his grasp, Noel turned back to her and she was still wearing that damn smile. "He's seeing someone, you know," he told her abruptly, and it dropped. "Don't wanna see him hurt you again, that's all."

Halle, surprisingly taken aback by the news, swallowed back that sand-papered pill. Even now, after being so happy and in love with Jason, this thing with Eric felt like prodding a bruise. Yet, Halle forced on a smile and acted like it hadn't stung just that slightest bit. "Well, I'm happy for him," she said. Halle joked, "Maybe he'll treat her better than me."

It hadn't caused Noel crack a smile nor a laugh. He just looked at her sternly like he wanted to start lecturing her. He didn't, but Noel did say, "Yeah, just don't be the other girl either — the one he cheats on his girl with."

Afterwards, Noel stalked off with a storm in his eyes and Halle was left with another bruise. This one landed solidly on her ego and she crumpled into a shell of the smiling, pleasantly happy girl had been that very morning when the only thing on her mind had been cupcakes.

Slacking behind, Halle had shut the trunk and trudged back over to the stall depressingly. There, she found her mother chatting quite happily with Eric and Noel; her smile was larger than Halle had seen in a long time.

"—You boys really don't have to," Halle had overheard her mother say just as she approached. "We've got it covered, honestly," Luisa said.

"Just for closing, we can carry your fridge back to the car," Eric mentioned helpfully. and admittedly Halle was stunned.

She put down the keys onto the table, them clattering against the surface. "What's going on here?" Halle asked.

"Eric and Noel just offered to help at the stall tonight," Luisa told her daughter, sparing a knowing — and somewhat-sympathetic — peek at Halle. "I said we know what we're doing, and that they're welcome to come on by later to buy some or say hey, but we have it covered." It sounded like Luisa was really trying convince the Kahn brothers to back-down; her smile twisted to slightly forced as she spoke. Luisa added, "Besides, you boys must have better things to do than some stuffy town festival."

"Not really," Eric responded politely, his eyes shifting back to Halle. He saw her drop her head, which caused his brows to furrow; it hadn't been like that two minutes ago. "We're happy to help."

"Well, thank you, boys, that's very kind of you," Luisa said, with an air of graciousness that put everyone in awe. Handling people — being a pillar to society — always came easy to Luisa Brewster. "But, like I said—" Luisa smiled and tussled up Riley's curls, as her youngest emptied the box, "we've got this covered. Please, stop by though," she finished with a dazzling smile. "And give my love to your folks."

"Will do, Mrs Brewster," Noel said, also trying to wedge himself in on Halle's mothers good side.

Luisa shot them another smile before she landed on Halle again. "Can you get Riley to school— and please—" Luisa snatched up the keys and handed them to Halle, "get the car to me at lunch?"

"Sure, I got it," Halle said. She held out her hand to her sister. "Come on, Riles, I'll let you choose what music we listen to." When Riley accepted it, after having given her mother a quick kiss and hug goodbye, Halle looked to Eric. "It's good seeing you, I'm glad you got that job," she said.

"It's good to see you, too," Eric said back to her, the most earnest she sounded in this entire exchanged.

Halle's eyes shifted to Noel. "I'll see you at school." She didn't give him much of a chance to reply before Halle ushered Riley away, them walking towards the car. For a moment, Halle dropped Riley's hand to round the front to get into her side, but she wished she never did.

Suddenly, a roar of engine roared. A motorbike raced past, zooming alongside the green and ripped off down one of the side streets. Loudly, Riley jumped up in excitement. Her grin was wide and ten-fold, radiating pure joy as she yelled out happily, "Toby! Toby's back!"

In an instant, spotting her sister go to run onto the road, Halle shot out and grabbed Riley's shoulders. She stopped the nine-year-old in her tracks and forced her back to the curb just as a car drove by. Blood rushed through her body, coursing through her veins like an electricity surge, sparking up with terror of it all ending badly. Halle was livid, spitting angry fire.

"What were you thinking?!" Halle raged at her. "Do you realise how dangerous that was?"

"I know, I know, but Toby—" Riley wriggled and writhed in Halle's grasp. "Toby's back."

"It's not Toby," Halle got firm — almost nasty with Riley. "It's just a motorcycle, you can't go running off when you hear a motorcycle, okay?" Her finger shot up and pointed at her, in Riley's fearful face, furiously, "You're not stupid, don't do that crap, you could've been ran over."

"But it's Toby," Riley argued,

"It's not Toby!" shouted Halle, and Riley froze in her arms. "Even if it was, you don't run out into the road without looking, you don't run out into the road in general. You're not—"

"Halle," Luisa's voice sliced through the heated atmosphere. The mother had witnessed the entire scene: Halle dropping Riley's hand before she got into the car, Halle go to the driver's side, the motorbike whip past, Riley run out and Halle dive after her. It stopped Luisa's world for a moment; her breathing stopped, but then she heard the yelling. Slowly, Luisa pried Riley from out of Halle's hold and pulled her youngest, now crying, into her for a comforting hug. "Go easy, she's just a kid," Luisa said.

"She ran into the road," Halle defended, an argumentative arm swung out in gesture.

"I know, I get that and I'll make sure she knows," Luisa calmly told her daughter. "But she's just a kid and she's scared."

"So?! She should be scared, she—"

"She's scared because you scared her, Halle," Luisa snapped, interrupting just as Riley sniffled.

That tiny, emotional sniff drained the argument from Halle. Her features fell, folding in on themselves. "Riley..." Halle heard the croak in her throat. All the fear melted away — the high adrenaline disintegrated — and Halle was that horrible person who let her anger get the best of her and shouted at her little sister because she just wanted to see Toby again. "Riley, I'm sorry," she said.

Luisa stroked Riley's head tenderly. "Riles, did you hear that? Halle said she's sorry," said Luisa. She coached out of the smallest, "What do you say back?"

Despite her burrowed head into her mother's stomach, Riley's teary eyes, all glassed over, peered up at Halle. It was like another dagger to Halle's soul — to see the damage she had caused yet again. "I'm sorry, too — for running out into the road," she whimpered, and then buried her head further into Luisa's stomach. "I won't do it again."

"I'm gonna call the school, she can take the morning," Luisa said, inhaling deeply. "Can't send her like this." She looked to Halle. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Halle lied. She fought back, with all her might, the storm of water she wanted to release. "Yeah, I'm good." She cleared her throat and said, "I'll get the car to you at lunch." Once more, Halle uttered another apology, "I'm sorry, Riley." As soon as her lip quivered, Halle took that as a sign to flee.

•

The conversation of Spencer and Toby came back around — like Halle had been expecting it to — when she reunited with her friends. Despite Hanna's lack of tardiness, it still crept up, and Halle refused to bring up the reaction she had that morning with her friends over Toby.

As Aria exchanged her morning books for that afternoon's, the petite girl asked Emily, "Can't you just ask your mom for a copy of the coroner's report?"

Annoyed by the suggestion, Emily shut her down, "Aria, the report doesn't say not Toby, it says John Doe. Okay— it's not gonna change Spencer's mind."

"You put Toby in front of her and she's not gonna think it's him," Halle inserted. Seriously, she said, "Guys, she definitely saw something."

Aria looked back at her, over the metal door of her locker. "Yeah, but it wasn't Toby."

A phone beeped between them, startling Halle. She jumped at her, scrambling for the devise in her bag. Alarm bells in her head rang with two names, but it hadn't been either. It was Emily's phone that went off.

Emily dove into the message, gaze fixed onto the screen beneath knitted together eyebrows. Aria noted this and asked, "Who's that?"

"Um, Shana," answered Emily, unsure of what to reply.

Instantly, Aria was on her, judging with a folder held close to her chest. "Why does she keep texting you while Paige is out of town?" She wondered pressingly, "Is she into you?"

Halle rolled her eyes and said, "Just because they're both into girls, don't mean they're—" She cut herself off when she, too, noticed Emily's reaction. "Wait, what's with your face?"

Just then, Hanna appeared. She slid in next to them and rambled off her apology. "Sorry, guys, Caleb had a lot to share." She rolled her eyes. "I'm having lunch with him and his dad at The Grille." Naturally, she glanced around and landed on Emily. Hanna lit up wildly, her voice becoming shrill. "Why are you blushing?" She looked to Aria and Halle. "Why is she blushing?"

Smugly, with pursed lips, Aria said, "Shana's cruising her, and I think she should shut it down before it turns into Ex and the City." She shut her locked after her pointed remark.

As they walked, Emily defended herself, "Guys, I'm not thinking about Shana." Strongly, she maintained good to the cause. "We need to help Spencer."

"No, Em, you saw her face," argued Hanna. "Spencer won't help Spencer."

"Give her a break," Halle replied.

"I am, she's in Radley," Hanna countered back sarcastically. "I mean, she is not getting out of there unless we kidnap her."

Aria hopped on, adding, "Or we actually take the body there and prove to her it's not Toby."

While it was just a joke-suggestion, Emily halted. Mid-corridor and she just froze, that glint to her eyes when she got a sparky idea.

Shortly after, Aria picked up on the stilled position. She turned to find Emily was truly considering it. "Em," Aria dropped her voice, "that's not a real option."

"No," Emily eagerly corrected, "but taking a picture of it is—"

"Nope, absolutely not," said Halle instantly. She crossed out the idea with her hands and flat-out denied it. "Not a chance in hell."

But, Emily persisted at them. "We've been to that morgue before, what's stopping us from going back?"

Even Hanna — the most impulsive of the lot of them — seemed genuinely confused that Emily asked that question, and Aria simply said, "Um, do we really have to answer that?"

"I will," Halle claimed, hand up. She then pointed at Emily and chose to rightfully remind her, "Wilden has a photograph of us at the morgue — that specific morgue, by the way — and he's convinced we committed a crime."

"We did," Aria said.

"I lied," Hanna spoke up, "said it was a prank."

"Yeah, but you were caught," Halle shot back.

Still, Emily refused to let it go. "But we know where the cameras are now, we just avoid showing our faces to them."

"Oh, 'cos it's that easy," Halle said sarcastically. "Oh, come off it, Em."

"You sunk a car for me, we can do this for Spencer and Em," Hanna tried to sway her friend.

"That is such—"

Chiming in, Emily recalled, "What did you say yesterday about not letting your friend do something stupid alone?"

"I ain't," Halle chided, "you've got these two idiots with you."

Yet, this group was a democracy and the moment Aria piped up in agreement with the other two, Halle knew she was doomed. "Teams of two," Aria said, "that's how this works."

•

Spencer hadn't found the relief in her mother showing up. Nor the humour when she took note of the stark difference in attire. While Spencer lived in plain and grey like it was the new skin underneath the old one she shed, Veronica Hastings waltzed into Radley Sanatorium in a red, chiffon blouse paired with a pencil skirt. It was something Spencer witnessed her mother dressed in often, but foolishly, Spencer believed she might get a more casual, if not toned-down version today.

Also, Spencer began to loath the colour red.

Veronica had brought something rather similar for Spencer, even presented the outfit in a hanging-bag instead of the usual duffel. Hastings did it different, Spencer bitterly cursed silently, letting it settle with the rest of her hatred she brewed in for her family.

Maybe if she weren't Spencer Hastings.

Maybe if she were Spencer Marin. Or Montgomery. Or Fields. Maybe if she were Spencer Brewster instead, then maybe — just like Halle — Spencer could get the help she needed and not feel like an absolute burden for ending up in a place like Radley. Maybe she wouldn't have ended up in Radley at all.

Halle never did.

She imagined it then. Parents that watched gameshows together on the couch, curled up into each, exchanging obvious affection and borrowing glasses as her mother drew and her father completely the tv puzzles. Siblings that fought against but also for each other — that actually liked one another. A dog that was loyal and comforted her whenever she got stressed for a big exam at school or at just life. A big brother who'd point out all the flaws in the next idiotic boy she'd date; a kid-sister she could take to ballet and treat to chocolate cupcakes afterwards. Or a sister who Spencer could lash out yet always make up with because you couldn't stand being mad at one another for longer; because it actually hurt. She wanted that family — at the end of the street, in the cosy house — that all seemed to fit despite the array of minor imperfections.

The hangers clatter against one another, and Spencer was snapped out of her daze. She didn't react or move. Her eyes blinked at the jerked movements, but her clawed hand stayed glued to her dipped head and her limbs were still tired.

"I thought this might make you feel better," Veronica Hastings had said to her daughter. She spoke sweetly — the kind of sweet that rotted teeth and set them on edge. Veronica talked to Spencer like she was a child, desperately to coax her out of tantrum. It was the only way Veronica knew how to deal with what was happening. That, and pretending the problem didn't exist. "And then maybe on the way home, we can stop—"

"I'm not coming home," Spencer said abruptly. It annoyed Spencer too much to hear that word, even to say it. Home. She couldn't bear it. She had just envisioned a perfect life for herself — and her mother wanted to call what they had home?!

"Just at least put on the blouse," Veronica pushed, forcing the white and patterned shirt out towards her daughter.

"Mom," Spencer grew mad, frustrated at not being listened to. "I told you, I'm not ready."

"Well—" Again, Veronica ignored her and went to laying the shirt and blazer down upon the bed, "as soon as you're in your own bedroom—" she smiled brightly at Spencer and encouraged, "and surrounded by the—"

Louder, Spencer shouted out her needs, "Mom! — I can't just go back to dinner at the Club—"

Still, Veronica rambled on, again messing with the hangers. "—You don't have to wear the blazer, just put on the—"

Spencer ripped it from out of her hands and screamed, "I said I'm not ready!" In her violent outburst, she threw it to the ground.

Instantly, the air around her got toxic. Spencer needed to relieve herself of, so stood up and crossed the blank room. On a chair, in the corner, Spencer had managed to curl up in a tiny ball as her hand fell over her face. In the darkness of her shut lids, she chanted in her mind: a nice cosy house, parents on couch watching television, older brother, sisters — one younger, one the same age — a family dog, a family.

A family.

A family.

A family.

Amongst the ruins, Veronica Hastings held back her own tears. Her heart thumped and ached and bled for her child. She had been through this violence before and never thought they'd revisit it. She retrieved the shirt and hanger from off the floor and observed it. Shamefully, Veronica couldn't remember the last time she had seen Spencer in this specific shirt. Or the last time Spencer even wore a blazer. Veronica had just grabbed the things that made her feel safe — that reminded her of the Spencer she knew. She wanted to preserve that version, but had no clue when it disappeared in the first place.

Silently, she swallowed back the lump in her throat and tried to push aside the rock in the pit of her stomach. Veronica pulled out the chair from under the desk and put it neared to Spencer — not too close to increase her daughter's fear or anger. Veronica wanted to be as tender as possible and decidedly mirrored Spencer's small frame.

"What happened between you and Toby?" asked Veronica, and Spencer took her head from her hand and faced it further away. "I'm not moving from this spot until I get a real answer," she told her daughter fiercely, not missing the way Spencer wiped at her fallen tears.

In her seat, Spencer dithered. She had brought her knees up now and pulled them into her chest. Her thighs felt the slow thud of her deadening heartbeat — how lacklustre it had been since the night Toby tore at it while she had been idiotically cooked him lasagna.

"The last time I saw someone in this state," Veronica began, and Spencer sniffled. "Clinging to a secret this hard, it was Alison," she revealed, causing Spencer's head to roll around. Veronica met those teary, broken eyes of her daughter and chose to gravely drive her point home. "A few weeks later she was dead."

The late-July heat made it especially hard for Veronica Hastings to sleep. She had spent over half an hour staring the dips in the ceiling, listening to both the fan above and her husband snore gently beside her. She watched the ceiling-fan go around and round until it stirred up dizziness. Her head went light and suddenly her throat got dry. The constant hum of fan drove her nuts every summer; but, by time, Peter's snoring had grown louder than it, Veronica groaned and rolled herself out bed.

She knew Spencer had friends over — a planned sleepover with Emily and Halle turned into one with just Emily, turned into a sleepover with Emily and Alison — so covered up her thin, silk pyjamas with a robe. Although the windows in the house were cracked open slightly, all on-latch, the air was still sticky. Veronica hadn't felt truly cool until she was face first in the refrigerator. There, she grabbed a the bottle of chilled water to quench that thirst.

Just as she turned, the back mud-room door opened. Veronica gasped, startled. Then, through the open doorway to the kitchen, she spotted Alison enter. The teen's luxurious curls were swept back into a low-hanging ponytail and a denim jacket covered her sleeping shirt and shorts.

Relieved, Veronica let out the breath she had been holding, her hand pressed to her stomach. "Alison," she sighed, allowing herself to relax again. Soon after, she switched into worry. "Where were you? I thought you were asleep in Spencer's room."

Sticking to the dark shadows of the kitchen, Alison kept her face hidden. It stung, and the last thing she needed were questions from Spencer's mother. "I had to go out," Alison said.

Whereas, that answer was usually enough for her own mother, who had grown tired and had lost reigns over Alison, Veronica Hastings hadn't settled for it. "For what?" she asked, even more worried now. Forgone was the need to quench her thirst; she didn't even have a dry throat anymore.

Veronica stepped out from behind the kitchen island ready to cut Alison off before she escaped upstairs. There, she spied the blood down Alison's perfect chin. Her eyes widened at it, travelling up to the swollen lip. Concern immediately flooded Veronica. "What happened to your mouth? It's bleeding," she said in horror.

Alison's hand flew to it. She winced at the touch, feeling the wetness coat her fingertips. The slap had hurt more than she ever expected it to and inflicted more injury than she got to. Alison had been furious, spewing over with visceral vengeance; she hadn't counted on Halle being the same.

Sniffling, Alison pushed through her leaking eyes and lied. She hadn't uttered a lie that poor since she was eight and they moved to Rosewood. Or that first Christmas when she found two yellow dresses but told her father there had been one. "I must've scratched myself on a tree branch," she said. "On my way back from my house." Panicky, in fear the woman wouldn't believe her, Alison asked while trying to flee, "Can I go upstairs now?"

Yet, Veronica refused to relent. "Why did you have to go to your house at three in the morning?"

"Mrs Hastings, please," Alison started to tear up and her voice came out wobbly, "I can't talk about this."

"Let me get some ice for your mouth," said Veronica in deep concern. "Just stay there—" Her instruction put her back to Alison as Veronica raced to collect it from the freezer drawer. "Please?"

All the betrayal bubbled at Alison's surface again. For a moment, the idea of dropping Halle in it with Mrs Hastings flashed before her. If she could get one parent to hate Halle, and Mrs Hastings already seemed to massively mind Spencer was friends with Alison, then the others would soon follow suit. But, Alison kept seeing Halle and Jason. In her own kitchen, Halle's arms draped around his shoulders. And that smile Halle gave Alison when she knew the knife had pierced her.

It was something Alison would do. Not Halle. Never Halle. She was supposed to be Halle's best friend.

That hurt blended with her rage again. Alison's body burned red and forward rushed the furious tears to blur her eyes. She was carving out a place in her mind for the revenge she'd take against Halle. All that anger, holding onto the fury so tightly, caused Alison to lose her balance. She fell back to the arm of the couch, slow to regain the composure Halle slapped out of her.

Veronica wrapped up a frozen bag of peas in a clean hand-towel. She crossed the room and approached the teenager cautiously as not to frighten her. "Here," she said gently.

Timidly, Alison accepted it. As she put the item to her lip, Alison wondered if Halle's handprint was still raw upon her check. If Veronica could see it. If it would bruise. She wanted it to. Then she'd have something to show their friends and outcast Halle from the party. Alison chose Halle for protection; she never imagined Halle would be the one she'd need protecting from.

"Did you have a fight with someone?" Veronica asked, while Alison winced at the stinging.

Alison saw it as a moment to sway it to what she craved more than anything. If Jason was going to date her best friend and think he'd get no consequence, the way Alison already plotted Halle's, he'd be massively mistaken. Alison wanted him out their grandmother's will and she could do it now. It all just fell into her lap beautifully; she only had to play it right.

Dropping the towel from her face, Alison displayed the bloodied lip and still-tinged pink cheek, and whimpered out, "Mrs Hastings, if you tell my parents, it's only gonna make it worse." She began her desperate plea, "Promise me you won't say anything."

In that moment, Alison saw it happen. She saw 'Jason' flash before her in Mrs Hastings' eyes. She saw the conclusion was drawn — that Spencer's mother had connected all the right dots Alison plotted for her and pictured Alison's own dear brother did this.

Veronica couldn't sit on this. Any chance of undermining that family — that woman who lived next door — Veronica Hastings would grasp at like the way Spencer's mother grasped at Alison to bring her in for a hug.

"Come here," Veronica said, and pulled Alison up to embrace her and cradled her head motherly.

Although, Alison allowed herself to get swept up in the tight hug, it gave her no comfort. She got none from her own mother's touch, why would she from another? This was to sell the act. To sell the lie. It hadn't meant anything.

"Shh," soothed Veronica, mistaking the tremors of anger for another influx of tears.

With her glossy eyes to the light, Alison breathed in her rewards. She relished in a really good lie, and, for a moment, her stare went entirely cold. Her body froze. Then, as quick as it happened, it disappeared. She inhaled sharply, "I'm just being weird."

Alison pulled away, and left Veronica spinning in confusion. The way the girl ran hot and cold, temperamental and unsure. Veronica, if she pressed too hard, would soon be nursing her own burn-blisters from the scolding shower Alison would lay down on her.

"Overly sensitive," Alison said. "I'm fine," she added, and Veronica almost bought it.

Without another word, Alison turned and started to walk away. She kept the towel in her hand, her ponytail swishing as she went. Alison walked with a determination. Shoulders were back with purpose and her chin stayed parallel to the floor. Veronica was left stumped, utterly bewildered by the encounter.

Spencer was the same. "You never told this to the police?"

"Of course I did," defended Veronica, shocked that Spencer would even think she wouldn't. Recoiling, Veronica rose from her chair, turned away and ventured back to the bed. She played with the collar on Spencer's blouse, focusing all her regret onto the white button. "But I made up my own mind about who went after her that night," she said, as she laid the hangers flat against each other. They clattered as she tried to fit them back into the bag. She threw back over her shoulder. "And I kept that to myself."

"Well, who?" Spencer asked, intrigued by it. "Why?" She turned, finally uncurling her knees from her chest. "Mom, how could you not say anything?"

Veronica faced her with a stormy glaze to her eyes, her hand on her hip. "Because if Jason went after us," she said, "exposing your father as his, too," she took a long pause and shook her head. "It'd be my family breaking down in the middle of the night."

"So," Spencer questioned it slow, "you still believe Jason...?"

"No, I don't," Veronica sighed out. "Not anymore."

"It wasn't Jason," Spencer spoke with a tremble. "It was Halle, because of Jason."

"No—" Veronica was adamant, "Alison begged me not to tell her parents, that it would make things worse. She was talking about Jason or somebody close to that family."

"She was hinting at Jason, Mom," Spencer said quietly, and Veronica came closer to hear what else Spencer would share. "That Summer, Alison was trying her best to get Jason cut out of their grandma's will because of what he had going on with Halle and..."

NAT, Spencer thought but never said.

"And she succeeded," said Veronica, thinking she had finished the sentence.

Spencer nodded, small. "Ali wanted to punish him. She cut him out of the will and she..." She swallowed it back, closing her eyes briefly as the cruelty flashed before her. "She found that video of Halle, she was planning to do the same as what Mona did as A."

The air was stolen from Veronica. She was left winded by the revelation. Her hand travelled up her neck, clutching at imaginary pearls. "Alison would really do that to Halle?" she asked, stunned.

"Alison wanted to ruin her, Mom, she wanted to ruin all of us," Spencer confessed to her.

Carefully, Veronica sat herself back down opposite her daughter. Her tone had grown quite serious, crippled with insane worry. "If Alison could do that and she was your friend... I'm starting to wonder about others," she started. "I need to ask, is Toby not the person that we thought he was?"

Spencer's face had worn the marks of deep sorrow. She had truly known it and known it cut deeper, and soon, Spencer folded over into heavy weeping again.

•

Thirteen floors in a tin box stirred up a ball of dread in the pit of Halle's stomach. She kept her head tucked low and tried not to think of the criminal repercussions of what she was about to do. Sinking a detective's car at the bottom of Torch Lake felt safe; it was dark and water destroyed evidence. A hospital captured mountains of evidence through camera lenses, and Halle couldn't deny she and her friends broke into a morgue when it'd be her face on a video.

If Halle closed her lids, she could see the sombre look upon her father's face and the disappointment in her mother's eyes. They had to be smart about this. They couldn't mess it up again. Neither Halle or the girls had the option of it.

It rattled down the elevator shaft, slow and steady. At some point, Emily's pinky-finger had wound firmly around Halle's own. Emily had been wary the second they got into the elevator; her eyes were deep pools of anxiety. The last time Emily was in an elevator, she almost got split in half. So, the entire way down, she kept her touch connected to Halle; and it eased the dread Halle held inside also.

The ground floor of the hospital was chillier than Halle expected. Goosebumps raised upon brown skin, all up her arms and legs, making the hair stand up on edge when the doors parted. She wore the standard candy-cane stripped uniform like her friends, with her curls sleeked back into a bun, and it did nothing but abandoned warmth.

Emily happened to be the first to step off the elevator. She dropped Halle's hand, feeling safe again, and peeked around to check the coast was clear. Aria and Halle soon followed; the latter had to tug Hanna forward since her nose was stuck in her phone.

Aria whispered, "Okay, who am I supposed to text if I see someone?"

"Me. Not Hanna," Emily answered forcefully, as they rounded the end corner to the left. "We're using her phone to take the picture." She glanced up and back, eyes landing on Hanna, who still noisily typed at her pink-covered cell-phone. "Hanna, pay attention," Emily pleaded, scolding.

The blonde looked up in offence. She took the caution as an insult, and Hanna ran hot-blooded because of it. "What? I'm sorry!" She put the phone into the pocket in the pocket of the dress, hanging weighty. "My boyfriend's dad got nailed for stealing," raved Hanna. "Where do you sell a hot bell, anyway?"

"Hanna, focus," Emily reminded. "I don't wanna be in there any longer than we have to." Sternly, she said, "We find John Doe, we take the picture, and we get out of here."

Admittedly more invested in the bell-of-it-all, Aria angled her body towards Hanna and remarked, "Well, if it's bronze, you'd probably melt it down first."

"Melt into what?" Hanna asked, sincerely genuine.

Halle held onto her eye-roll with every fibre of strength within her and quipped back sarcastically, "Gee, I don't know, Hanna— Maybe— just putting it out there— bronze?"

Hanna donned a dumb look upon her face. "You can do that?"

Outraged, Emily scolded them, "Why are we still discussing bells?"

"Because!" Hanna, hand dug deep in the the pockets of her dress, stuck her neck out with irritation, exclamation firing from her. "Caleb thinks his dad is a saint, and I know he's selling pieces of our church online."

"Okay, forget it," Emily caved. She dismissed Hanna and said, "I knew we should've picked different teams — Halle, with me."

"No—" Hanna stopped her. "I got this, I just need to take the photo, right?"

"Yes," Emily forced out a sigh, "that's what I've been saying from the very beginning."

"Okay, let's go then, grumpy," Hanna replied, and she headed into the Morgue right behind Emily.

The hallway fell silent. Its eerie chill caused Halle to dither. Her skin curled up with the chill as she put her back to the wall. It was a cavern slab of concrete — a tunnel of ice — and Halle stood there freezing while on lookout.

In her pocket, her mobile chimed. Halle straightened up immediately. Her rushed excitement flooded her, and she scrambled for it only to be left deflated from being eternally disheartened by love.

Checking in. Flight was OK!
I love you. See you soon.
From: Dad

Aria let her curiosity out, "Expecting to hear off someone?"

"Oh, no." Halle shook off her disappointment as well as she could, but it stuck to her bones and weighed everything down. "Just... I'm waiting," she said, attempting to play it off as indifferent but failing miserably. She just sounded like a rambling idiot. "To hear back from Jason. I, uh, left him a voicemail and he's been quiet on it."

"Was it important?" asked Aria.

"No..?" Halle responded, it sounding more like a question than an answer.

"What was it about?" Aria implored when Halle hadn't budged, "Come on, it's me, Hal, I'd get it." She jested, "How many times have Ezra and me broken up and gotten back together? It'll be the same for you and Jason."

"No offence, but we ain't like you and Fitz," Halle countered back without any though to how it affected Aria. It was a known thing: anytime someone said, 'no offence,' it was bounded to cause offence.

"Why? Because he was my teacher," Aria finished for her because she knowingly took it as the truth. Halle had been less but silent on her dislike for it, yet had been the one to push it aside as best as she could because it made Aria happy. However, it only went on for so long before the walls came tumbling down. Even Aria accepted that. "I know it was wrong, I get that," said Aria. "I get why everyone was worried, why my dad wanted to report him, why my mom lost respect for him as a teacher — I get it." Aria lowered her eyes, sadness creeping in. "I hear the comments you make, but I ignore them because..."

Aria inhaled a large breath and exhaled it from her lungs, feeling it release with words. "It's like you know it's wrong and people are gonna have opinions, mostly bad," she explained. "So, you tell yourself you don't want him, and you don't, but then you do. You really want him, and you really wanna be with him, and it scares you because while everyone is busy saying it's wrong, it's never felt so right to you. You've never been seen the way he did, the way he saw me in that bar," she spoke truthfully, pouring over with it. "I never felt that close to anyone since... Ali," Aria told her, though it put that pain she had done well to heal from back to the surface.

Suddenly, in that cold hallway, outside the hospital morgue, it made sense to Halle better than before. Sadly, she smiled small as if to hide her want to well up. "It's gotta be her, ain't it?" Halle didn't like the way resentment tasted on her tongue, but it rushed up with the acid in her throat again. "Always comes back to how she messed up up for everybody else. What happened to her is gonna haunt us for the rest of our lives." Halle scoffed, "Typical." She really pried open a barely healed, probably festering wound when she mocked aloud, "That's immortality, my darlings."

With something important to say, Aria opened her mouth wide and started, "Halle, we—"

"It's not Toby!"

Emily's muffled shout tore through anything Aria almost said. Their eyes shot to where it boomed from — to the black print 'MORGUE' on the frosted glass.

"Good or bad?" Halle asked, just as the two of them walked carefully to the doors.

"Bad, definitely bad," Aria said, nearing the glass. She cupped her hand above her eyes and tried to look in.

BANG.

Aria whipped her head from the glass. Halle jolted up straighter, a gasp leaving her. In the distance, around the bend of the shadowed corridor, a door had shut with some force. The pair exchanged wary glances before they ventured the few steps towards it. Their trainers padded across the polished concrete floor. They were almost at the end when the elevator dinged.

The couple jumped, gasping again. They turned around suddenly, terrified the group were about to be rumbled by a member of hospital staff. Their panicked eyes shot up to the convex mirror bolted to the wall at the furthest end from them. From the gained wider view, the shined glass showed Red Coat with blonde locks cascading down from under it.

Fear ran through Halle. Red Coat was a fable told by her friends. A ghost story that haunted Emily's worst night and stalked Hanna to watch on at an A-attack. Now, Halle saw it herself and that terrible night rushed back to her.

Still hurrying, she closed in on the bend to Bridgewater Terrace. As she looked up, in a flash, she collided with a figure. An almighty scream ripped from her throat. Red clouded her vision. She freaked, dropped the takeout, and clutched to the red coat the stranger wore.  "Oh, my god! I'm— I'm sorry — I'm sorry!"

Quicker than Halle, Aria picked up pace. Her cotton trainers hurried hastily back down the corridor. The sound they made when they connected with the floor beneath startled Red Coat to retreat. Halle had ran to catch up. Adrenaline coursed through them; theirs heartbeats pulsed in veins and burst into their ears. A glimpse of red consumed their sights before the closing elevator doors obscured it. The doors shut in their faces, and once again they were left with nothing.

"Dammit!" yelled Halle, and the side of her fist collided with the metal doors.

"Halle!" screeched Aria in panic. "Oh, my god!"

"Oh! Oh, holy fu— holy crap!" Halle's winced in agony. Her hand writhed, searing hot and red from the impact. She clenched it into a tight fist and bit down hard into her bottom lip as she tried to supress her need to scream or curse. "Oh, my god, ow," she whispered, as she released her fist and felt the springing of the side of her burning hand.

"Are you okay? Oh, my god, we need to get you to a doctor," Aria said in panic.

"Well, it's a good freaking job we're at a hospital," Halle muttered out, rage mixing hotly with her pain.

Aria, fretting terribly, hurried to press the 'call'-button to the elevator and said, "Okay—we're gonna take you to emergency, I'm texting Hanna on the way up, okay?"

"Okay," whimpered out Halle.

•

Once the candy-cane striped uniforms were shredded, Aria and Halle back in their usual clothes, the friends were sat in a patient room together. The nurse had given Halle a cold compress to hold to the throbbing area until the doctor could get around to seeing her.

"Are you okay?" Aria asked.

"For the hundredth time, I'm fine," Halle huffed, with a roll of her eyes. "I don't even wanna stick around and see a stupid doctor."

"You could've broken your hand," Aria said, argumentative in her concern.

"If I broke it, I'd been in more pain than this," Halle retorted.

"Yeah, well, you've broken a school computer on fractured ribs," Aria quipped back, her eyebrows arched up with the remark. She glanced up at the clock on the wall and sighed.

"If you wanna leave to go pick up Fitz's kid, you can," Halle said to her. "Em and Hanna are right outside."

"No, I can't, I—"

"Halle Brewster," spoke a voice the two knew somewhat well. The curtain was brushed open and in strolled Wren Kingston in his white doctor's coat and clipboard. "And Aria," he met, a small smile upon his face. "You're in for your wrist, you think you've broken it," he said.

"It's not broken," Halle said flatly.

"Either way, I think we should still check it over," Dr Kingston said, and he put down the clipboard onto the foot of the bed. "Can I...?" He gestured towards Halle's hand, and Halle nodded.

Lifting it, Halle groaned in pain. She held it at the the wrist, feeling it go limp without the support.

"How did this happen?" asked Dr Kingston, while he inspected it. He surveyed the swollen area in his gloved hands, taking it in his own grasp to maneuverer at the wrist.

"Ooh, ow," Halle whined.

"That hurt?" he questioned with a raised brow.

Pressing her lips together, Halle said, lying, "Not much. It's not broken," she added.

"No, I don't think it's broken either, I do think you've hurt yourself though," Dr Kingston replied. "How'd it happen?" he asked again, and Halle exchanged a look with Aria for their next lie.

"She trapped it in a car door," Aria said quickly. "I thought it best she get it checked out since it's hurting."

"How long's it been hurting?" he asked.

"I don't know, about an hour?" Halle said.

"Okay, so not too worrying," Dr Kingston replied. "But I do have some questions I'd like answering."

"Uh, sorry—" Aria sincerely smiled as she apologised. "How long's it gonna be? It's just—"

"You can go," Halle assured her friend.

"Are you sure?" Aria asked, instantly feeling terrible for abandoning her friend.

"Yeah, you've gotta pick Malcolm up," Halle said. "Em can take me home, go."

"Okay, I love you," Aria said. She got up, grabbing her bag, and inserted, "Call me after?"

"Sure," Halle responded, and Aria hugged her before she rushed out the secluded area.

"You won't be able to drive," was the first thing Dr Kingston said when they were alone. "I don't know if she was your lift or—"

"I'm here with Em and Hanna, too," Halle told her, aware he knew who her friends were without telling him they were her friends.

"Good," he said. The doctor continued to inspect her hand and asked, "Can you make a fist? — Yeah, like that, good," he complimented as Halle followed his instructions. "And release," he said, and she did so with faint springing in the nerves to the side of her hand. "Make a fist again — and release — Okay, you can relax, put it back on the cold compress," Dr Kingston ordered. Randomly, he decided to nosy in, "It's nice that you're all sticking together."

Halle knitted her brows together, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I saw Spencer yesterday, at Radley," Dr Kingston said, breeching that line between doctor and patient rather boldly. "I work there part time."

"Yeah, Hanna said," Halle recalled.

"Have you seen her yet? Spencer, I mean," Dr Kingston asked. His posh English accent smoothed his invasive questions over — covered the smarmy nature he exhibited.

"Yeah, last night," Halle stated. "We all went."

"That's good, she needs her friends rallying around her at a time like this," said Dr Kingston, dishing out advise like he knew all of them rather than just Spencer.

"I think what Spencer needs is people not talking about her like she's some sort of broken doll, especially her doctors," Halle immediately challenged. "Don't think her mom would like to hear this conversation said back to her."

"You're right," Dr Kingston nodded. He plucked up the clipboard and looked down at Halle's chart, marking things off. "You know, this is quite unusual," he suddenly mentioned, gaze focused on the page.

"What is?" Halle asked, a tad lost.

"You've had several hospital visits in the last year," Dr Kingston noted. "This is your third in fourteen months."

"And?" Halle sought for the point.

"Two broken ribs, a broken thumb and stitches in the left side of your forehead," he said, checking in with questioning eyes.

"I got hit by car," Halle said, "Hanna tried to push me out of the way, but we both got hit."

He read off another. "Concussion and stitches, this time last year."

"I was attacked, hit over the hand with a candlestick," Halle explained, baffled at the connection. "I was defending Spencer."

"And now you've knackered your wrist, in a car door apparently," Dr Kingston claimed like he didn't believe her. "It's not hard to draw certain conclusions here, Halle. You have a history of getting yourself in pretty dangerous, and I'd say reckless—"

There was the word Halle hated. Loathed. Every fibre of her body raged at it. She was livid. She was furious. There was this rage in her chest set alight. Reckless. Everyone called Halle reckless. Now, a doctor tried to connect things that weren't there. Halle wasn't just angry... She was burning.

"—And there's a serious pattern to your behaviour," continued Dr Kingston. "If we factor in your bipolar diagnosis and the potential these incidences may fall under manic episodes, which are more common than hallucinations in type two, then—"

"I think you better back down now, buddy," Halle warned him with a glare to her mad eyes. "Unless you wanna complaint made against you."

Dr Kingston tried to reason, "Halle, this is a very dangerous pattern here and manic episodes can result in erratic and reckless behaviour—"

"I got time too, I'll make it now," she said. Through a clenched jaw, she demanded, "Drop it now, or I'll have Mrs Hastings have this hospital and Radley  drop your ass."

"I understand," Dr Kingston nodded. Just when Halle thought he dropped it, the doctor hadn't. He came back in harder than ever. "But these injuries, you putting yourself out there to be hurt, could be seen as self-harm."

Halle snapped, eyes large and alarmed. "You need to stop — now."

This time, Dr Kingston accepted it. He looked back down at his notes and said, "I'm going to forward this information to your therapist, as well as your primary care physician, let them know what happened here with you today." He scribbled on the sheet and advised, "I'm going to recommend rest, ice, compression and elevation your hand for a few days. If it still hurts, come in and we'll send you off for an x-ray to be sure nothing is broken."

"Is that it?" Halle impatiently asked.

"Yes, that's it," Dr Kingston said, mustering up a pathetic smile to try and support her.

"Okay—" Halle stood, a firm hold back on her hurt hand. "Thanks, Doctor,"

She was on her way to the door when Dr Kingston spoke again. "Halle," he said, calling her back, "if I overstepped in any way—"

"You did," she cut him, her tongue clipped in a stubborn way. "Twice."

•

Rosewood town centre brimmed with life. Every inch of it was bustling with merriment. Streets had been closed off while circus tents and game stalls were erected up and down each side of the road. Laughter and vivacious chatter swarmed the area as people enjoyed the festivities. It was like a time capsule moment where none of the horror of the last few years existed; everyone pretended the Alison DiLaurentis memorial bench wasn't within seventy feet of the green, on York street.

As usual, her mother's trick of baking a batch in the church kitchen then rushing to the stall and putting the steaming cupcakes in front of fan, drew customers in. The rainbow frosted cupcakes were selling fast and consistently throughout the evening; Luisa Brewster in her element as she smiled kindly at a compliment and diverted the attention of the paying customer to the donation bucket.

Halle smiled through the wringing of her hand. The purpling skin was hidden behind a structure bandage, and she did her very best to assist her mother at the booth. Riley was front and centre, bringing people in with her toothy grin and cherub cheeks. Halle felt the agony of causing that sweet girl pained greater than any bruise.

"Ah, you came!" Luisa delighted, locking her sight onto Eric and Noel Kahn. The pair of them appeared at the side-table, where Luisa collected change for another pleased customer, and Halle couldn't help how her smile dropped.

"Wouldn't miss the chance to have the best cupcakes in Rosewood," Eric replied, quite smarmy with his need to impress.

"Well, thanks, Eric — so sweet," Luisa said, smiling as she squeezed his chin. She joked with him, "Can you tell my youngest that? She thinks Lucky Leon's is the best."

"Oh, no!" Eric acted crushed. His hand went to his heart, acting fatally wounded, and Riley let out a loud giggle. "Your mom makes the best. The Best!" he said.

Riley scrunched up her nose and said, "I like mom's but..."

"But mom doesn't make chocolate centre ones, does she?" Luisa said, throwing an arm around Riley.

"Those ones are good," Eric agreed.

Just as Halle finished with customer, Noel appeared at Halle's third of the stall. "Thanks for coming, don't forget to stay for the first bell toll," Halle said, faking her enthusiasm for the church's event.

"Hey," Noel said. He cleared his throat, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck when she glanced up then back down at her collection box used as a makeshift registry. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry, about this morning," he elaborated. "I didn't wanna upset you and if what I said made you snap at Riley earlier—"

"I snapped at her 'cos she ran into the road," Halle countered, eyes now firmly directed up at him. "Don't play yourself, you don't have that kind of power."

"Toby Cavanaugh does," Noel pointed out, and Halle dipped her head. "That's what you shouted at her for — Toby Cavanaugh."

Halle swallowed by his truthful observation and sucked her teeth. "You wanna a cupcake or not? If not, move — I got customers," she said, gesturing with her head to the couple already surveying the front table while Luisa, along with Riley, talked with Eric.

"I'll take two," said Noel.

"Colours?" she asked.

"Blue and, uh, yellow," he answered. "Please."

Snatching up two napkins, Halle made a point to glare at Noel as she put aside the same amount of cupcake. She purposefully chose one with smudged icing, at the back, just because she was feeling extra petty. Halle was about to ask him for the money when Aria rushed up to her.

"Hey, Aria, give me once sec—"

"Malcolm's missing," Aria blurted out in a frenzy. All the colour had been drained from her face. "A took him."

"What?! Are you for real right now?" Halle stopped what she was doing. The cupcake fell from her hand to the table, and terror rushed forward. Her stomach lurched at it. Acutely aware, Noel was there, her eyes widened in his direction to remind Aria they were. They couldn't just blurt out A and everything be alright — that there'd be no consequence.

Halle stepped out from behind the stand, standing offside, and dragged Aria with her. They spoke lowly, panic transpired between the two in rays of terrors. "I went to go pick him up from his karate class right after I left you, like I was supposed to," Aria fretted, "but the teacher told me he had already been picked up by Aria Montgomery." A terrified Aria shoved a glossy programme out in front of Halle as she raked herself over the hot coals in guilt.

SCURO CARNIVALE
ENTERTAINMENT THAT WILL MISTIFY & DELIGHT!
GAMES & DIVERSIONS FOR ALL!

In A's signature fashion, at least one singular 'A' had been circled. Shockingly, it hadn't been circled in red but rather a green pen. It was enough to stump Halle. Red was A's colour, like it had been Alison's shade of lipstick. A painted Halle's wardrobe door with it; wore it now as their alter-ego Red Coat. Why would it be in green?

Aria's severe panic out brought Halle back down to this chaos. "This was in his cubby-hole — A has got him, Halle." Aria's hand flew to her head while the other went to her stomach — her gut churned up impossibly tight, and began to freak, "Oh, my god— oh, my god, what am I gonna do? I'm a terrible person—"

Halle said calmly, "You're not a terrible person—"

"I've lost Ezra's kid, Halle!" shrilled Aria, snapping. Her shout caught the attention of Noel, his brother, and Halle's mother and sister along with all the people crowding the opposite side of the tables. "This is punishment — this is A punishing me — they're punishing me—"

"Listen to me— listen to me," Halle snapped out her repeated request, and Aria clamped her mouth shut. "This is not punishment, this is A. Okay — and you ain't lost anybody if A took him," Halle reminded her strongly. Keeping her cool, Halle took charge, "Here's what we're gonna do, we're both gonna split up and search for ten minutes either direction of the booth. You go that way to the circus—" Halle pointed out towards the right side where the top closed street was and all the tents were, "I'll go this way—" she motioned in the opposite direction, "and check the fairground rides."

"Okay." Aria shook with fear. "We have to find him, Halle. God, if anything happens to that little boy because of—"

"Nothing's gonna happen, we're gonna find him, okay?" said Halle fiercely. She looked into Aria's eyes as she did so and her friend could tell Halle meant every word of it. "Okay—" Halle whipped around fast and found her mother. "Mom— Mom, I gotta help Aria find—"

"Find the kid I'm babysitting," Aria inserted with a solid lie. She didn't want her best friends' parents knowing Ezra had a child yet. "He's wondered off."

"Oh—oh, okay—" Luisa blinked, trying to absorb the information. She flipped into maternal-mode swiftly. "Is everything okay? Do you need me to call the police?"

"No!" Aria was fast at shutting that down, extremely exclamatory. She tried to laugh it off but wasn't entirely convincing, "No police — I'm sure he just got lost in the crowd somewhere."

"Either way, I'm gonna check the parking lot," Eric offered, stepping in. "Just to be safe."

"Good idea," Luisa praised. "I know they're closed off Saw Mill, the only way out really is York Street."

Eric's stature had grown serious; his brows frowned as he explained, "If someone's taken him, they're not gonna hang around."

"Oh, god," Aria cried, paling with every passing second.

"I'll come too," Noel said, having joined the group in their collective panic.

"No, Noel, stay here," Halle said instantly. She pleaded, "Help my mom with the stall?"

"—He's seven, his name is Malcolm, he has brown hair and blue eyes, his mom's name is Maggie and his—"

Seeing Eric was already at Aria's side, checking in with what he needed to know about the missing child, Noel breathed in and sadly nodded. "Okay."

Halle flashed him a brisk smile. "Thanks, I owe you one!" She jumped up and kissed his cheek, then turned back to her mother, "Mom, Noel's gonna help you and Riles here, okay?"

"Okay, honey— sure, go." Luisa pushed lightly at Halle and wished earnestly, "Be careful."

Hurrying, the three headed off in search of Malcolm. They dodged the crowd, the oncoming cheery people who were too busy in their own worlds to realise the extreme fear surging through Aria.

"I'll call you if I find him," Eric said, about to split off for the parking lot.

Aria rushed out her appreciation. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Meet you back here," he said, and Eric rushed off for the exit.

Sensing the terror writhing through her friend, Halle said coolly, "Aria, we're gonna find him, we're gonna find him."

"I know, I know," Aria said, as she overcompensated with her series of large nods. "Ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes," Halle confirmed, and briskly pulled Aria in from a quick hug. Halle held her closer and kissed her head before they both tore apart and ran off in their different directions.

•

The ten minute marker approached faster than Halle believed. She zig-zagged through the crowd, dodging and zipping past. She had never been more resentful — over Rosewood being one of the larger small towns — that there were so many people and she didn't know every single face.

"Malcolm!"

He wasn't even her kid — wasn't connected to him in any way — but the panic rose in her like a bottle of pop shaken up. She fizzled over with it, bubbling over her rim with fright. She kept thinking of Riley. What if this was Riley? If Ezra's kid, who was seven, wasn't off limits, what fooled Halle into believing her nine-year-old sister was?

"Malcolm!"

Halle ran to the attendant to the fun-house and asked, "Excuse me, have you seen a little boy? He's seven, he's about this tall—" Halle held her hand out just about taller than a metre, "he's got brown hair, his name is Malcolm."

"No, sorry, I've not had any kids come in here in the last hour," the burly man replied. "Any kids I've had have come in with an adult or a sibling, sorry."

"Okay, thanks."

Backing up, about to scream, Halle's eyes caught onto the entrance in front of her. Her gaze was drawn up to the open clown's mouth that led through to the fun-house, the gaping black hole leading people inside. The lights to the building connected flashed different colours, cracked from black to purple to white in lightning bolts.

"... It's more common than hallucinations in type two disorders..." She heard Dr Kingston's voice swirl around her head. "...Manic episodes can result in erratic and reckless behaviour..."

Heated kisses flashed in her mind. Music blasted her from either side, looped with canned, creepy-sounding chuckled and the whizzing of the fun-house's animations. First, it was just images Halle and Eric up against a wall, in the darkest corner; her only warmth emitted from him and she was hungrier for it than ever. Then, the shot of pain jolted through her head. Every part of her had started to hurt. Zooming thoughts had drove her into overload. All the pressure crushed her skull, but the thoughts kept zapping through. The pain only worsened.

Red, dripping paint on the wall and Alison's mocking, always lilting laugh in her head. Halle rocked and pushed Eric from her... She stumbled through... She clutched onto a bannister to keep her up... her sight blurred... She cried out for Alison. The inside of her throat burned as though it was bleeding... Halle dropped the to floor with a thud... She saw a blur of  Eric's face and a blonde behind him before her eyes rolled back and everything went black.

Alison.

It wasn't the first time Halle saw her. It wasn't the last. She was gone, but Alison was everywhere.

Halle, in freaked turmoil, was about to let out another scream. She was ready to cry out Malcolm's name and ignore Aria altogether. In her mind, telling someone was the only way to save Malcolm. So, Halle dug out her phone from her jacket-pocket and went into her call-log; she didn't even have scroll to see Wilden's number. She almost pressed call, but at the last second, Aria's text popped up on her screen.

I found him.
He's fine, I'm a basket-case.
Call u later.
From: Aria

"Oh, thank the lord—" The solace gifted to Halle from three sentence washed over her, trickling down with ease. She barely got to experience if before her name was being shouted.

"Halle," Eric's voice carried over the crowd and the high-pitched crackle of the bumper cars. He was a head and shoulders in the distance, cropping up between slithers of parents watching the children compete in circles. Eric sounded panicked — freaked almost. His concern poured out of him. He was shaking his head as he finally reached her. "I couldn't find him, he's not—"

With a resigned look upon her face, Halle showed him the screen. "Crisis avoided," she said.

Eric let out a huge sigh of relief. "God— You know, you and your friends—" somehow, in the midst of his panic relaxing, he managed to let out a small chuckle, "know how to stress a guy out."

"It's a rare skill," Halle mentioned, an edge of humour to her tone. She nodded towards where she knew the cupcake stall was and said, "We should probably head back." Jesting as they began to walk, Halle added with a laughed, "Clock Noel out of his shift, doubt this is how he'd wanna spend his night."

Amused, Eric's brows raised with his next pointed remark, "If you asked, I don't doubt Noel'll do anything you want."

Eric's comment was meant to be a joke — light-hearted but still held some weight — but it dug deeper with Halle. The guilt gnawed up at her stomach. Gone was any excuse she could use to say she was unaware of Noel's feelings; Halle armed herself with them in her weaponry. Every time she needed Noel to give her something, he did — without arguing, mostly willing. Alison was right. Many wouldn't believe Halle if she said she didn't know the power she had over him.

Halle must've been unnatural quiet, stewing as they walked, for Eric to take notice and note it aloud. He kept taking peeks at her face, watching the crease between her eyebrow appear then disappear several times before he said anything. He asked, "How are you feeling?"

"What?" Halle looked to him, slightly stunned to be brought out of her own head. "About the kid being safe? Relieved, I guess," she answered, strange as she didn't even know Malcolm.

"No, about this morning," Eric clarified. "With Riley — her diving out into the road like that." He saw how Halle gifted him a tiny shrug and a pressed smile, acting like she had no idea what he was hinting all, like she was indifferent. It didn't slide with him, and Eric called her out on it. "Come on, Hal, don't do that to me," he said. "I know you hate shouting at her, you hate taking anything out of her."

Her feet started to feel heavier, trudging rather than stepping. Fiddling with the nail on her thumb, she said, "I shouldn't have shouted at her like that."

"She shouldn't have ran out into the road," Eric responded bluntly, and Halle's eyes flashed up to him. He smiled and assured, "She'll get over it. She looks up to you too much, practically worships you."

"Well, she shouldn't," Halle said shortly. "I'm the worst person to look up to." She made a fist and flung a finger up as she counted off all the reasons she pathetically gave. "I can't control my anger, I'm screwed up in the head— literally lucked out on the genetic lottery from my nana— I've lost everyone I've ever cared about or I keep them at a distance—" she referred to him with a tossed aside glance, "because I'm scared they've gonna leave me too. I'm an awful person. She shouldn't look up to me, she needs to pick someone else."

"She's not gonna, because you're the one she chose, you're her sister," Eric reasoned. "If you're not gonna better yourself for you, do it for her. Do it for someone you wanna be better for."

"Oh, lord!" Halle chucked out in exclaimed groan, an overexaggerated eyeroll leaving her. "What are you, a self-help book? When did you get all deep?"

"Actually," Eric laughed because it found it quite funny, "after we broke up, I spent a lot of time blaming your therapist, you know, for you ending it."

"Bet," Halle muttered, amused herself because that was the Eric she knew. He blamed everyone — anyone else — so he didn't have to take responsibility or accept things were one-hundred percent his fault.

"But then it turns out you were kind of right, about us not being together if Alison hadn't gone missing," Eric explained, and Halle felt her heart sink to her shoes. She did say that. She meant it, too. "How we were probably really great for a time we both needed it to be, but... not much longer after that." Eric said, "And I figured it talking worked for you... so I found a group at college — for guys. We talk about... well, we talk," he told her poorly, them both chuckling lightly at that; he was still working on it.

In jest, Halle nudged his side with her elbows. She smiled up at him and teased, "So the douchebag's just a front, then?"

Eric attempted to stifle his laughter but didn't quite succeed. "I'm trying to be serious with you, and you can never do it."

"Because I don't take you seriously," Halle said, laughing, but it hurt a nerve.

"Yeah—" Eric took the punch to the gut well. His tongue nervously came out to wet his lips and he said, "We never did that with each other."

It rung true — and loud. Halle remembered all the times she screamed at him, begging him to give her a ounce of that fire — that passion back — but he dismissed her every time. It wasn't like he was patient like Jason. Or put out her fires like Emily. Or gave it her back like her other friends. Eric just shut her down — shut himself down — and decided that was the end of the conversation.

Deciding it was best not to revisit old wounds, Halle settled with, "I'm happy for you."

"About my job? Yeah, you said," Eric replied.

"No, about..." Halle took a pause. It felt entirely foreign to her — to even talk like this with Eric so personally without them being together. She wasn't even sure they did it that much when they were together. She wanted to cringe at how weird she was being. "About you dating again," she manged to say. When he looked at her wondering how she knew, Halle filled in the blank, "Noel mentioned it."

"Course he did," Eric nodded. It peeved him off; that tick in his jaw gave him away. "Always had to get it in. Why'd I think he change when we're not together?"

Ignoring it, like Halle often ignored how she did find out about Eric and potential girls through Noel, Halle tried to steer the subject back a lighter side. She asked quite innocently, "So, why isn't she here?"

Simply, Eric let out, "I didn't wanna invite her."

With that same playful smile, Halle said, "I hope that's not because of me."

Eric glanced down at his side, at her walking next to him, and said without hesitation. "You know it is."

Halle gulped nervously. It was a joke; she wanted it to be a joke. This certainly felt like one to her, but she kept her composure. Her lips lifted up gently and she suggested earnestly, "You should invite her."

"Maybe I will," Eric replied.

"You definitely should," said Halle. The pair — the exes — were both smiling. They laughed lightly in each other's company, a certain ease in the night's air around them. It felt clear — breathable. Halle was just thankful it was less toxic than when they were together.

In a glance at the stall, she saw her mother packing up as she chatted with the new church pastor. The smile still on her face as she surveyed it briefly. Then, suddenly, it dropped. Halle's eyes snapped back and all the blood drained from her hot cheeks. "Where's Riley? Can you see Riley?"

"What?" Eric spun around.

"—Where's Riley?" Halle panicked. The blood was in her ear, pounding. It was deafening. A constant powerful thump, over and over and over. Halle's head whipped around. Her mother hadn't notice, nor had a concern as she shared in laughter with Pastor Ted. "Can you—? Riley!"

Halle sprinted. Her heart in her throat beat thunderously. She couldn't breath. She was struggling to breath. All the panic had set it.

"RILEY!"

Luisa Brewster looked up at the shout. She spotted Halle come run over, out of breath like the air had been stolen around her. "Hey—" Concern took a hold of the woman, who looked particularly shocked by the extreme response. "Is everything okay? Are you—?"

"Where's Riley?" Halle was on her immediately, gasping in all the fright with her pounding heart-rate.

The startled look in her mother's eyes drew from Halle to Eric as he arrived at the table as well. Her confusion was adamant on her face. "What—?"

"—Where's Riley?!" she cut off her mother rapidly.

"She's here — look," Luisa said, pointing down the makeshift runway between each two rows of stalls. There, walking towards them, Riley was, skipping. Her curls in plaited back into a pigtail and a giant soft toy version of a cow now clutched in her arms as she talked Noel's ear off excitedly; a big, beaming grin upon her face. "She got bored, Noel took her to some of the stalls at the bottom," Luisa explained.

"Oh, my god," breathed out Halle dramatically. She was exasperated, exhausted with the overexertion. The relief she felt was like a cold shower. An ice bucket tipped over her head, trickling down her body and into her shoes. "Riley!"

The girl looked up at her name being called. Her eyes shot to her sister; and Halle was rushing forward. Riley could just make out the glossy film to Halle's eyes before she was suffocated by curls as Halle enveloped her into a tight embrace.

"You're — squishing — me!" Riley squeezed out.

"Sorry, I—" Halle parted from her, feeling stupid for her reaction. Everyone was looking at her strangely.

"Whoa, when did you get so paranoid?" Noel asked, chuckling.

Wrong joke, Halle thought as she turned livid. Her face and neck suddenly got very hot, inflamed at his lack of comprehension. "Are you freaking serious?" Halle batted him back. Her balled up fists collided with his chest, shoving him back harshly. "Are you for real?!" Noel put his hands up in defence, eyes wide at her launched attack. She shoved him again. "You — asshole! You scared the crap outta me. You don't—" she shoved him another time, "go off with my sister when I think someone else's kid's been kidnapped." Halle kept shoving him back. "You don't do that crap, you don't—"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Eric dove in fast, parting the two. He put his hand to Noel's chest, eyes wide in warning, then he looked to Halle. "Stop it, you're causing a scene."

People were staring at them. Luisa looked on, horrified, at the edge of the stall. Halle and Noel had disturbed the surrounding area; all games had paused for players to become onlookers, watching the unfolding drama. Eyes were fixed to the four in the centre: Eric between his brother and ex-girlfriend as Halle pulled Riley and her stuff cow to her.

"I was just helping, I didn't do anything," Noel defended. "I was looking after your sister."

"I never asked you to, I asked you to help out at the stall," Halle fired back. She yelled at him, "I thought someone had taken her, Noel! I thought she got hurt."

"Well, she's not!" Noel bit back.

"It's true," Riley spoke up next to Halle. Her kind, if not worried, eyes stared up at her sister. "I'm not, Noel even won me this cow," she said, brandishing the toy. "We tried to win you one, too."

Pastor Ted had come over to them calmly. He had his palms faced directly up at them, as he urged them down from the elevated scene. "Let's just take a moment," he said. "Let's move this somewhere more private."

"I think that's a great idea," Eric agreed. He turned to his brother. "Cool it, let's get some air," he said despite being out in the open, to which Noel scoffed at then brushed off his hand.

"Go to your mom," Ted said to the girls, and they did. With a large friendly grin, Ted addressed the gathering of stares, "Alright folks, just a little too much excitement. Next time, we'll just have the fair not the circus too," he joked, smiling at the way through it. "Back to the fun. Enjoy the night, everyone!"

Halle kept a hand on Riley's shoulder the few metres it took to get back to the stall. Luisa was waiting for them, her hand at her neck. Riley passed from Halle to her mother. "Everything okay?" Luisa asked, her face lines showing worry. "What happened?"

"Nothing, everything's fine, I just didn't know where she was," Halle responded. Feeling a tingling in her fingertips, Halle glanced down at her hands and they were shaking. She was shaking. Her whole body shook. With a look over her shoulder, her eyes went back to the spot they argued and spied Noel stalk off from Eric in a vile mood.

"Don't tell me to cool it," Noel cautioned sternly. He put his back to him and walked off, but Eric didn't let him go alone. So, Noel threw out his bitterness over the situation. "I help her out, I won her sister a toy — and I'm the bad guy? God, you cheated on her and still get to play the hero, stepping in and—"

Eric grabbed onto Noel's shoulder and pulled him to a stop. He was confused, floored at what his brother was saying. "What— What are you talking about?"

"I saw you," Noel accused. "I saw you with her — with Halle."

"Oh, god, this isn't about her, is it?" Eric rolled his eyes, and that was enough for Noel to lose all his patience.

"Of course it's about her! It's always about Halle!" Noel  exclaimed. "She was the girl I told you about after my middle school dance. That Halloween, I was— I was so close— I was this close—" he pinched his index and thumb together, "and you had to take it from me." He cursed, "You have a girlfriend."

"Yeah, and you told Halle — congrats," Eric said sardonically. "Didn't take you long, did it? Always had to undermined me with her, always had to drop me in it. Half the time you were just playing on her insecurity, thinking she'd wake up and finally like you back." Eric shook his head, arms out in mock demonstration. "Newsflash, it's not happening, she doesn't see you like that."

"You could have anyone," Noel said to his older brother, the person his parents wanted him to be more like. The person the Halle two years ago wanted him to be more like. "Any girl you want, you can have her like that—" Noel snapped his fingers. "You could've had anyone, why did it have to be Halle? Why did you have to go and have Halle?"

•

"Give me five minutes, girls," Luisa Brewster said, slamming the car trunk shut. Her daughters were leant up against the car, both of them with their arms crossed; Riley trapped her new toy in between hers. "I'm just going to give Pastor Ted the donation bucket, okay? I'll be five minutes."

"Okay," Halle said, and Luisa briskly went off with the large, clinking bucket.

For a while, it was silence. Neither Halle or Riley said a word. They just stood there, brewing in passive stillness, until, at last, Halle spoke up. "You get why I got so mad, right?"

Riley nodded, small. "Mom said a kid went missing, you thought I did too," answered her kid-sister, barely moving her lips.

Inhaling sharply, Halle span to face her sister. "You know I love you, right?" Her voice was serious — graver than every before, not even earlier. "I'm never gonna let anything bad happen to you, ever."

Sighing, Riley deflated, "Is this about this morning? Because mom's already had my ass about it earlier— Please don't tell her I said ass," she briskly begged, eyes wide as if she couldn't quite believe she said it.

Halle pressed away the greatest of her smile away. "My lips are a sealed." Wanting to make her sister happy — or at least laugh — Halle acted as though she zipped her lips shut and turned a key. She then handed it out to Riley. "Here."

"What's that?" asked Riley, her nose scrunched up at whatever the hell Halle was playing at.

"The key, to our locked secret," Halle revealed, and Riley lit up brightly.

In a flash, Riley's hand jumped out and snatched at the invisible key. Smiling wickedly, she chucked into the grass in front of them. Riley smugly said, "Good luck finding a invisible key. That secret's forever."

Halle played along. "What secret?"

Then, as quick as the joy came, so dawned a sadness. "You and Toby had a fight, didn't you?" said Riley. "It's why he's stopped coming 'round, why he's stopped coming to see me." Her innocent, glossy with unshed tears, gazed up at Halle. "Right?"

"We didn't fight," Halle said, gaze lowered. "I don't think I've ever fought with Toby." She heard her voice crack and hadn't noticed her own eyes had welled up. She blinked them back, buried down the lurching depression, and cleared her throat. She looked to Riley said, "I love you."

"Love you too," Riley said back. She rested her head against Halle's arm, which Halle moved to wrap around Riley, pulling her her closer. Riley rolled her head up, eyes up on Halle's face. "You know what dad says, that when you love someone it means you can tell them the truth?"

Halle hummed, "Yeah."

"Well, you were really mean to Noel," Riley recalled, and Halle knew she was right. "You have to apologise. Properly—" she warned with her tiny finger, causing Halle to hold back a laugh at the seriousness of it all. "You have to mean it or else it doesn't count."

"Deal," Halle agreed.

"Okay, we can go— Oh, my girls." Luisa walked back over, without the bucket, and stumbled across her two daughters hugging sweetly. Her hand went to her heart, cooing at the sight, which made both Halle and Riley roll their eyes.

"Mom," grumbled Riley, hiding her face into Halle's side.

"Okay, okay—" Luisa put her hands up, "I won't mention it," she said. "You girls ready to go?"

"Actually..." Halle swept in, drawing it out. "I'm gonna go find Noel, he's probably still around her somewhere."

"Okay, you want us to stick around?" Luisa asked. "We were gonna grab a pizza from The Grille and head home — call your dad, maybe video-chat Myles if he's not out with Danny."

"No, no, you guys go," Halle dismissed them easily. She smiled and said cheekily, "I do need to know if there's any cupcakes left."

It hadn't taken Halle long to locate Noel. After, she promised to exchange two cupcakes for a week of doing dishes solo with Riley — a trade she wasn't particularly happy making but did anyway — Halle took off looking for her half-friend. He wasn't hard to find. Nobody could miss the sulking figure on the hood of his car, arm folded as he stubbornly refused to engage in any of the fun whirling around him.

"Hey you," Halle met awkwardly.

His stare travelled to Halle, her looking rather sweetly — like butter would melt — while she tried to appear forgivable, that knowingly guilty smile on her face and the sad look to her dark eyes. "Hey," he acknowledged without much glee. "if you're here to shout at me more, I don't—"

"I'm not," Halle said. She stepped over to him with the foil-wrapped cupcakes. "I'm actually here to apologise. You did a nice thing and I overreacted, so I'm sorry." Offering out the foil, she explained, "They're from before, the ones you didn't get to have before." Reluctantly, Noel reached for his back jean-pocket, going for his wallet, but Halle stopped him. "Oh, no, this is on me — sorry."

Still, Noel continued to get it. "That won't be happening."

"I ain't letting you pay, so deal with it," Halle denied him the opportunity. She ventured over to Noel and joined him on the hood, perching there. She teased, "Put a donation if your masculinity is that fragile over two cupcakes."

"Ooh—" Noel let out a laugh, "you don't have to do me that dirty."

"Shut your face," Halle replied, smiling, while she shoved his side with her shoulder.

Then, in the middle of their reconciliation, Halle happened to glance up. Her eyes caught sight of Eric and his girlfriend. He was holding her hand and smiling widely; they were just walking through the crowd. She looked at the couple and felt a dull thud in her chest. It was a feeling she didn't expect to get. A winding she didn't want to take so badly.

She was over Eric, completely. But Halle hadn't expected the hurt. Maybe it was because she missed Jason. Maybe it was Halle just wanted to be loved. Maybe it was more. Maybe it was peace she wanted. Craved. She just wanted peace. A peaceful life. Uneventful and easy. Halle didn't know how to have either — how to do either.

"Here." Noel had torn into the foil and collected out one of the slightly smushed cupcakes for her. He made a show of gifting it to her, "It was for you anyway."

Tightly, Halle mustered up a smile for him. "Thanks."

"You wanna walk around? Play a few games," he suggested to her. "I hear the fun-house is extra scary this year."

"Uh, no." Halle didn't like the idea of that. She cast her eyes down to the yellow frosting on her cupcake. "I'm gonna pass."

Noel started to chuckle and teased her, "You're not scared, are you?" He poked her side. "Is Halle Brewster scared of a fun-house?" When he didn't get a reaction other than Halle shifting her body, angling her direction away. He dropped all the jokester attitude. "Are you really?"

Biting down hard on the inside of her left cheek, Halle attempted to hide her discomfort but failed terribly. "Last year..."

"Oh, crap—" Noel cursed himself stupid. "Sorry, I completely forgot. I'm such an idiot," he said.

"No, no, you're not," Halle reassured, waving off his honest mistake. "You weren't to know."

He stared at her. "What happened?" Noel waited for her to meet his gaze — to hold it there as he recounted, "I know Eric said you passed out, he said it was lights and the heat and you saw..." Noel stopped; the abrupt end was more upsetting than if he actually finished.

"I saw Alison, yeah." Halle felt like she should be locked up with Spencer in Radley. For some reason, Halle had this urge to defend herself — to justify what happened — argue her freedom and sanity. "Apparently, hallucinations are pretty common with bipolar and—"

"Halle, it's fine, you don't need to explain it to me," Noel assured her sincerely.

It felt safe to share. It felt good. Therapy had taught Halle there was no use bottling everything up if you had someone willing to listen and understand. Noel was one of those people and Halle was safe with him.

"At the time," Halle began. "I'm not even sure I really believed she was dead." Her honesty was shocking — what she said was. She knew that much and had to reason aloud, "I know, it's crazy. But, A— Mona," she corrected because Mona wasn't A now, "knew so much about me, it made total sense it'd be Alison. I thought, I don't know—" Halle visibly struggled to explain it. "I thought, we'd be close to catching A and — boom — she turns around and it's Alison, she's alive."

Nodding along, following, Noel mentioned, "You don't talk about her much."

"Hmm," hummed Halle sadly.

"Do you, uh... miss her?" he asked nervously, not certain he should cross this boundary he already established was there.

But Halle answered. "I miss parts of her," she said. "I don't miss her being cruel or..." She paused and exhaled forcibly, "I guess I miss the person I believed she was, but I don't know if that person even existed."

"What makes you say that?" asked Noel, urging her on.

The breath Halle took in was hefty, weighted her down as she breathed it in. She braced herself for the confession. "Looking back on everything... Now, it's like I can only remember the bad stuff," she said. "I don't know, Dr Sullivan says memories can be influenced — by what you know now." She rattled off, "It's a negative bias type of thing — makes people remember the bad stuff more, gives 'em more importance."

"So, you only remember bad Ali," Noel noted. Swallowing nervously, he then posed a more important question, "If you could... see her again—" he watched her carefully, "would you?"

Without hesitation, Halle concluded, "No."

•

Lights out was at ten. Usually, as routine followed, the staff staggered back when patients had to be in their room for the older patients or forward for younger. Spencer was among the small collection of young people there, and therefore had to be in her room by nine, but all lights had to be out for ten. She counted out thirty-two sixty-second intervals in her head, tapping out a consistent beat on the back of her knuckles, before she dared move.

She took extreme caution to shut her door to quietly. She heard the lock click into place and let out a breath she had been holding in. Then, with nothing on her feet, Spencer turned left and began counting out the steps like the board game told her to.

"One, two, three, four..."

The directions led her astray from the main hub of Radley. She sneaked around softly, trying not to make a noise in her white nightgown, which almost reached her ankles. Her bare feet whispered against the frozen ground and tracked all the way down to the basement. There, it wasn't as comforting nor as bright.

Walls yellowed and grout blackened; corners were cosy homes for wisps of silver spiderwebs. The air dropped drastically down there. The entire lower wing turned to a freezer, chilling Spencer to the bone. Her movements got more slow, stilted like the muscles in her legs cramped from the cold, as a gush of wind washed up them, swooping her gown against her legs and her ratty hair from her face.

A low woman's hum began to haunt her. At first Spencer thought it was in her head — that the wind had been playing tricked on her — yet it continued. It lulled Spencer in, drawing her closer. Legs started to move without consent, and like a siren's song, Spencer was called to it.

Through the metal grated-door, which creaked loudly when she opened it, Spencer kept on going towards the humming. It set off sparks in her memory like she had heard it before. She was fooling herself when she thought it sounded just like...

Alison.

Nestled amongst the wreckage of the abandoned room, the blonde sat propped upon her knees as she overlooked a collection of old vinyl-records. The room itself, although permanently creepy, hadn't been used for years. The window, barricaded off by broken cabinetry, was smashed and a greenery grew in from the outside; ivy was now growing prominently across the back wall. Old toys and cots were pushed aside, flush to the walls; a small child's bed in the corner with a comforter covered with purple butterflies now thick with dust and grime.

Alison glanced back at Spencer over her shoulder. There wasn't a greeting, not a single 'hello.' It had been like Alison knew Spencer was there the whole time, listening, watching. That dimple carved into her apple-cheeks, and Alison said, "Didn't your mother have this?"

Spencer recognised the cover but replied, "Your mother."

"Really," mused Alison, rolling her head back around to the vinyl and admired Dionne Warwick's beautiful face. "I must have left it at your house and didn't get it back," she said and flipped it over. "I left a lot of stuff there." There was something else on the floor with her — something that drew Spencer's tired eyes in, and Alison seemed to notice. She smiled when she replaced the vinyl with a pink diary, its heart-shaped lock broken. "It's why you buried this with me." She glanced at Spencer and said, "I did say I was leaving them to you after I was dead. This one completes the collection." As she turned away, Alison beamed brightly while she flipped through the well-read pages and asked "When did you find it, before or after?"

"Before or after?" Spencer questioned, lost as Alison fiddled with her keepsake for fun.

"I was dead, of course," Alison answered her. "I left it at yours That Night." Again, she looked back at Spencer and this time asked, "Is it me, or was sixth-grade the best year ever?"

Spencer watched her closely through tired, strained eyes. Elegantly, Alison rose from the ground and put her back to Spencer. As Alison fiddled with a record-player, Spencer said, "I didn't even know you then."

"Oh, honey—" Alison's voice dripped in adult, reminding Spencer quite pointedly, "you didn't even know me when you knew me."

Then, the music crackled before it burst into life. The opening tune to 'I'm Your Puppet' played and Alison inhaled wistfully, enjoying it with her peaceful eyes shut for just a second. After, she turned and opened them to land on Spencer. A pretty smile tugged at her pink lips, and Alison stepped nearer.

"Come on, give it up, Spence," said Alison, her arm extended out. "Let's pretend that you're getting ready for your first boy-girl dance party."

With Spencer reaching out timidly, Alison grasped at her hand and pulled her in. It was natural when they took up a relaxed waltz; the hand still held onto Spencer's own while Alison's other snaked around Spencer's back, the vinyl cover in its pinched hold. They swayed gently to the music, not uncomfortably, but for certain there was a palpable air around them that Spencer dare not breathe in; the sweet smell of Alison's rose perfume added to it.

And, as if she didn't want another voice to steal the moment, Alison spoke just as Dionne started to sing. "No one ever tells you that the practice is so much more fun than the real thing," Alison said sombrely.

Keeping her head tucked in and low, Spencer asked shakily, "Was it Toby? Was he the one who hit you with the shovel That Night?"

"Toby?" The softness had erased itself clean from Alison's voice. She pulled back and looked at Spencer's dull face. "Oh, sweetie, girls fight much dirtier than boys. Just think of Halle." Alison swayed. Left to right, right to left. The dance was hypnotic, like a pendulum or a metronome, all to keep Spencer exactly where she wanted. "I'm lucky she didn't leave a scar," she said and put two fingers to her lip. She led her to where she needed to go. "I couldn't say the same for her friend, she did leave a scar."

"She?" Spencer stayed in her frightened tepidness, too fearful to come out of it but brave enough to still ask the questions. "Who?"

Alison dropped her heated touch from Spencer. "You stopped dancing," she stated.

Spencer had barely noticed she stilled. She was too upset. She could feel another ocean of sadness about to crash upon up, soaking her in ice and welling in her sorrowful eyes. "I don't..." Her voice shook. "I don't want to dance."

Smiling sweetly once more, Alison mentioned, "I'll change the song."

She went to move, but Spencer stopped her. "No," pleaded Spencer, "I— I can't. I haven't slept in three days."

Alison enlarged her cerulean blue eyes at her, dipped her head to make the appear ever bigger as she fluttered her lashes sweetly. "Come on," she encouraged softly. Alison wanted to dance.

Yet, Spencer was unwavering. She got firmer with Alison, more determined. "I'm looking for something," Spencer told her. "The star," she said, "on Mona's game-board."

"Oh, that," Alison said scornfully. All the hate she bore for Mona while alive was summoned with that comment. She loathed Mona. It made the muscle above her left eyebrow twitch in anger, but she filled Spencer in nevertheless. "It's in there."

Despite the lack of dancing, the music kept playing. Dionne Warwick's voice guided Spencer towards the connecting room, with Alison gracefully walking behind her. The smaller room, just off the other, again was filled with old cots and toys; a thick blanket of dust coated them; on the cork-board, in the corner, were dozens of sketches pinned up, all dark and black and faces with evil, crooked smiles. Spencer tracked her stare around the room until the landed on the cleanest item: a white child's rocking horse. Edging closer, Spencer zeroed in on the blue star sticker.

Alison lingered in the doorway while Spencer ventured in. The blonde took up space, hand on her popped out hip, watching through narrowed slits, judging a particularly slow Spencer figure it out.

A star.

The star on the board.

Spencer surged forward. Her aching limbs, still from the cold, bent with loud cracks from her joints. It hadn't startled her. Spencer was focused on finding what Mona had hid. Gently shaking it, Spencer listened for an rattle. Her hand accidentally swiped at the horse's head and it moved. She made her movements careful as she removed the head from the body.

Inside, tucked away, were several items. Spencer plucked them out one by one. First was the white nurse's hat, like the ones the female staff wore; then came a badge, similar to the fake 'E. LAMB' badge Toby had stashed away in his drawer, only this one had Mona's smiling face along with a name to haunt Spencer.

ALI DEE.

Alison DiLaurentis.

Another badge had been hidden also. This one was a visitor's badge — made of card and printed by that big, old computer in reception, the one which sounded as though it was chewing rocks.

VISITOR GUEST PASS
C E C E  D R A K E
Guest No. 03758
Visiting Patient: 28-0034
Authorized by: Dr Wren Kingston

"Spencer."

Her stomach dropped. Spencer flipped her head around and was faced with Wren Kingston in the doorway instead of Alison. All sign of her dead friend had vanished. Alison had vanished — into thin air, it seemed. The music had stopped playing, abruptly cut off when Wren said her name rather gravely. She could still smell her perfume.

"What are you doing?" Wren asked her.

Spencer — sceptical of him, of everything she had been learning about Wren through Eddie and, now, through Alison and Mona — cowered. Her blue feet shuffled backwards, her back hit the rocking horse. It shocked her, and Spencer jolted up to stand.

"Spencer," he said again, approaching but the girl backed further away. "You don't have to be scared," said Wren yet Spencer wasn't reassured. "You're not in trouble, but you shouldn't be down here, it's out of bounds."

She clutched the badges and nurse's hat in her iron-grip as Spencer asked, "How many times did she visit her?"

"What is that?" he decided to ask her instead, eyes firmly on the items in her hand.

"Mona kept souvenirs," Spencer shared lowly. Her voice got lower. It held more weight as if to let Wren know she was serious about this — that she would not be dropping it. "How many times did CeCe visit her?"

"I wouldn't know," Wren replied. His hands were out by his sides, defensive as he tried to close the distance.

But Spencer made it larger again. She stepped back as he kept coming nearer. "Yes, you would, Wren. You authorised it," Spencer stated, that specific badge held out at him. He had ventured closer, eyes glazed over with something intelligible and it scared her. The unknown scared Spencer so much, she fell back onto the creaky wheelchair.

"And I was almost suspended for it," he admitted. Wren changed up his denial, and Spencer stared up at him. "Mona was under restriction at that time — no visitors."

Shocked consumed her. "And you broke the rules for her because...?"

With his heated gaze locked onto hers, Wren tread backwards once and sat down upon a rickety chair opposite Spencer; it also gave a groan when he seated himself down, the rust setting into the joints of the chair. Wren clasped his hands together and pulled them into his lap. If it wasn't for the scenery, Spencer wryly thought, she'd suggest this was his bed-side manner for the hospital.

"CeCe called me and was desperate to see her," Wren said. "She thought she could help her."

"Help her with what?" Spencer almost snapped.

"Recover from the psychic wounds inflicted by your late friend, Alison," he insinuation strongly. There was no room to argue. It was fact, not opinion.

"You sure it wasn't the other way around?" Spencer wondered.

"Quite sure," Wren maintained. "Alison pulled some stunt at a frat party that got CeCe kicked out of university."

All at once, it hit her. The pieces clicked. "Ali... got CeCe kicked out of school because of something that happened at a frat party?"

"Alison pushed a girl down the stairs," Wren said, confirming the conclusion Spencer had already rushed to. "CeCe came out the other side, and she thought she could serve as a role model for Mona." He added, more sternly, "And I agreed."

It disgusted Spencer. Gone was the boyish, goofball-charm with light eyes and brown curls she got sucked in for time and time again. This person was a danger to her. She didn't know him. She wasn't safe alone with him. "How did she even know that Mona was even in here?" asked Spencer.

A beat passed before he spoke. "Melissa called her."

•

The fire crackled and spit. Flames danced in the reflection of blue and green tiles on the mantel; a warm glow casted around the rich mahogany room. It roared and roasted Halle's back, the scorching heat spreading up her spine and cooking comfortably her through top as she perched on the coffee table listening in.

Aria held onto Hanna's mobile and read over the latest A-taunt set to rumble the blonde's relationship. "So, basically A was framing Jamie the whole time?" she checked, already holding the answer within her grasp. Their enemy didn't claim crimes that weren't their own. "Wait, do you think that bill from the collection box was—?

"Don't you?" Hanna cut in, taking the phone from Aria. She heaved a heavy sigh and said depressingly, "Caleb is never gonna forgive me."

Watching with soft brown eyes as Hanna closed in on herself, Halle asked her friend, "Where is Caleb now?"

"He went to go find Jamie," Hanna replied, shooting Halle a hopeless look. "But even if he does, what is he supposed to tell him?"

With a shrug, Aria inserted, "He may just have to find a way to tell him the truth." She explained, "Caleb's familiar with the workings of A, so—"

Hanna's brows scrunched up in defiance as she countered back, "So is Ezra!" She fumed, "Do you plan on telling him who bought his kid a big, fat balloon today?"

And Aria clamped her mouth shut, nothing to add.

There was a hurried knock at the door and then it swung open. The girls were stunned when Emily burst into the house unannounced. The distressed look ruining her features was enough to cause them to pay attention.

Concern overtook Halle as they each stood to meet her in the panicked place they often collected in. "Em?"

"It was the wrong body," Emily told them breathlessly; the door shut to behind her as her shoulders were hunched up and rigid. Sweat coated her forehead and leaking mascara had painted the under of her eyes dark grey.

"What?" Hanna asked, gulping.

Emily panted, her chest hurting as she did so, "The John Doe, the one in the mask, it was the wrong one," she rushed to get out. Emily looked as though she was either going to pass out or hurl up all over the coffee table.

But Hanna still dwelled in confusion. "Emily, you're not making sense—"

Speaking through the nausea and the prickling stitch in her left side, Emily told them, "They just found a body tonight—" She sharply gasped, all her breathing was jagged as she delivered the terrible news. "—In a shallow grave out in the woods."

"Where?" Aria asked, snappish.

With her gaze fogging up again, too many cloudy tears to deal with, Emily managed to glance at her friend. The fear she held in her stiff body, burning with exhaustion, printed tight onto her face. "Exactly where Spencer said it was." Emily couldn't help her shallow breaths nor the crack in her voice as she said, "They found her purse close by."

At once, it hit them. The anger. The guilt. The all-crushing sadness. It was wave after wave of emotions washing over them, the current sweeping them into the ocean of their lies and Alison was the island in the middle, untouchable while the secrets kept growing. Their waves never made it to her shore.

In the pocket of Halle's coat, strung across the armchair, her phone rang through its vibrate. His name flashed on the screen, along with a photograph of the pair of them from their perfect summer in Cape May.

one missed call
From: Jason

•

QUICK AUTHOR'S NOTE
I KNOW THE SHOW GIVES A DISTINCT IMAGE OF RADLEY; BUT IN THIS VERSION, FOR THE MOST PART, RADLEY IS A DECENT FACILITY.
IT DOES HAVE A HISTORY.

AlSO, HAPPY PRIDE HONEYS🌈

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