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"A Is For Answers"

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The seconds ticked by torturously slow, noted by the tedious clacking of the newton's cradle upon the glass coffee table. It was a quarter past one by time they were all trapped inside of an unknown, strange apartment; Aria eyed the clock like a hawk, studying each sway of the red hand. The rush of a busy city was shut out by the row of slender windows, blackened mostly by night but with distant yellow dots for the people who couldn't sleep tonight.

Halle knew she wouldn't be.

She, among her friends, sat on a sofa that wasn't theirs — or assumingly anybody's they knew. For the most part, it was entirely quiet if it wasn't for the clacking.

Click.

Click.

Click.

"Spencer!" scolded Halle. She was tired — more irritable due to her pills wearing thin. She felt spiteful, slowly, then all at once. Halle couldn't detect whether it was her mood gradually plummeting as time waned or if it was the trepidation running through the veins at seeing Alison again. Both made her uneasy, and so it rubbed Halle wrongly.

"What?" Spencer asked, fingers loitering by the end ball of the newton's cradle.

Halle focused a glare to the same metal item. At the fierce look, Spencer sighed and ceased the grating, repetitive noise. When it stopped, the group of five were able to hear a phone ring.

Noel Kahn had been lingering by one of the windows, behind the sofa, over their shoulders. He had been monitoring the comings and goings of the street below. It was his phone that was ringing — a clearly identifiable, disposable one; made strictly to make and take calls then send and receive texts. Unaware of the attention the phone had drawn to him, Noel answered it.

"Yeah," he said. A silence followed. The call ended just as quick as it started, and Noel immediately faced the five girls on the sofa after it was done. "Stay here," Noel instructed of them. His blue eyes landed on Halle, fixed on the obvious hurt she had expressed when he was the person she saw at a moment she least expected it. "I'll be right back," he told them, then left them alone in the unfamiliar but comfortable apartment.

Once he was gone for certain, Aria settled forward and leant into the first private conversation she and her friends were able to have since Philadelphia. "I cannot believe we let Noel bring us here."

At that, Spencer slumped back against the large cushions.

"I can't believe he knew Alison was alive this whole time," uttered Halle, wondering if she was allowed to feel betrayed by him being helpful.

"Were there any signs?" Emily asked her.

Halle shook her head. "I'm not sure." She commented, "Maybe. I always got this feelings he was keeping something from me, but..." she swallowed, "I never thought it was Ali."

"Do we think she's even coming?" wondered Hanna of their missing friend and the sole reason they were in another city.

Spencer said, "I don't know. When I saw it was him instead of Ali, I thought for sure this was a trap," she truthfully remarked.

"Probably is, and we're just sitting here like geese," Hanna returned.

"Ducks."

Hanna looked at Spencer and asked, "What?"

"You sit like lame ducks, not geese," Spencer answered.

"Okay, well, whatever," said Hanna, rolling her eyes, "they both quack."

"Geese honk," stated Spencer.

"Why—" Emily inserted herself swiftly, before it derailed over bird, "would Ali trust Noel Kahn?"

"Because he has secrets, too."

Five sets of wide eyes snapped to the door. Instantly, the girls stood. The door was fully open, and there was Alison DiLaurentis. Her holy presence was a sigh of relief upon the group. Alison was still golden. Youthful, aged only the few years like the others, and yet, Alison had more of an adult sense to her being. She was more centred than any of her old friends. Three years matured her, but the heart-shaped face, cerulean blue eyes and red-painted lips were still all Alison DiLaurentis.

Alison.

Ali.

Astounded, Hanna spoke first. "I wanna hug you and slap you at the same time."

A sigh tumbled out of the living, breathing girl. Alison turned to shut the door, securely locking it, then faced them once more. In a matter of mere seconds, her expression had changed. The stoic, calmness crumbled, and Alison was suddenly fifteen again, innocent eyed and terrified. She began to softly plead. "I could use a hug."

Alison stepped closed and gratefully met Hanna's hug. Hanna wondered, while she hugged Alison, when the last time the blonde had been held. She doubted Alison and Noel embraced like this, so had it been a year? Two? The whole three? Since the day she disappeared? The very thought made Hanna cling tighter, just for a moment longer.

Emily was next. They had seen each other since Ravenswood but ended the way neither desired it to. So, as Alison received her willingly, Emily was glad the betrayal had only been temporary. Officially, she had Alison back.

When they parted, Aria let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding during the previous greetings. An eagerness washed over a nervously smiling Aria, as she moved to wrap her arms around Alison. She held on tight, crushing almost; and Alison did the same, until her knuckles were white from where she dung her hands into the leather of Aria's jacket.

Then, it was Halle.

Or it wasn't.

The two teens paused. They held out at the sight of each other's unsure, wary gazes. In those few seconds, a lot silently passed between them. A shared life. Ten years. Seven years together as best friends. Three years of Hale grieving. They were best friends. They had an undeniable bond, and still Halle couldn't bring herself to hug Alison.

Crunch.

The same then went for Spencer. She didn't hug Alison either. In this light, the hurt had been too illuminating. For comfort, Spencer decided to reach for Halle's hand instead, gripping to the most tangible thing in the room that wasn't the dead girl that haunted them.

Alison noticed, "I'm glad you're both here."

"Why?" Spencer's voice fell soft, her hand squeezing at Halle's. "We're the ones you can't trust."

There was a look that crossed Alison which told the pair, 'not necessarily,' and the first seed of doubt was planted.

"I need your help," Alison disclosed to them. The girls all glanced at her in worry. "Now that the cops know that I'm not the one they buried, they're gonna start looking again." She said, "And until I know who A is, I can't come home."

A beat of quiet passed. They clung to the dread of what it meant for the five. Alison returning brought up a lot of promised hope, and her disappearing again doomed them further.

Just over Alison's shoulder, Hanna sent Aria a sheepish peek before she opened her mouth. "Ali," said Hanna, "we think Ezra's the one who stole the game from Mona."

Aria swallowed, "We think he could be A."

"And that your mom knows," Hanna concluded.

It took only a brief moment for Alison to digest. She seemed too accepting of it. She came to terms with it much easier that the five of them had.

Picking up on it, Emily said, "You don't seem surprised."

"It's complicated, Em," Alison said to her. Her words stirred up deeper nerves. "I've never figured out..." she paused, choosing to bunch her arms up under her chest, "... the right way to tell you what you needed to know." Her voice trembled. "I've never been able to say the words out loud."

Cautious, as not to upset their font of currently unknown knowledge, Spencer suggested, "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

Alison glanced around, at her friends. She gauged delicate support from every one of them, even the most apprehensive and fragile. Alison consumed it, devouring it. Then, she crossed the room to take up in a chair, at the most perfect angle to face the five girls who sat on the L-shaped sofa opposite. It was create distance between them — them and her. She knew who not to trust and made them question who not to as well.

"I'm ready to tell you guys everything," Alison began, aware they were all extremely keen to listen. "But," she warned, "if we can't figure it out tonight, I'm gonna have to disappear again." She watched their hopes get dashed; the alarm that filled them abruptly. "And this time, it's gonna be for good."

All of them were looking at Alison — looking at her for the answers. She was there, in front of them, for longer than a fleeting minute like she had been in Spencer's backyard. Alison's penetrating gaze landed on each one at least once. They were all uneasy now, Alison could tell, but she didn't put them out of their suspended misery just yet.

"That was a crazy night," she said, "and it all starts in Hilton Head." And after that, Alison finally started to tell her story. "A had been threatening me since that Halloween," said Alison. "I thought a weekend away with Ian would give me a reprieve."

The bed hadn't been made yet. The comforter was thrown up over itself; a camera, positioned on a tripod, was directed straight at their mess. Alison was perched among it, heavenly in her tanned, girlish glow, when a knock disturbed them.

Ian Thomas was pissed. He shut the fifteen-year-old away in the post, private bedroom. He had paid for a prime suite for the weekend and Alison had relished in getting to lie and the perfect child's fancy of pretending to be Ian Thomas's girlfriend. For two days, Alison DiLaurentis was Melissa Hastings. So, it made total sense that Melissa would be the one to ruin it.

"What, did you follow me here?"

"I know who you're with," Melissa's voice sounded. "It's Alison."

Hearing her name was a call to arms. Alison wanted a fight. She enjoyed them massively. So, she ventured to the closed doors, peering out through the sheer drapes as she heard them collide like she had always craved they would.

"Listen—"

"No, you listen," Melissa cut Ian off madly. "Alison's a child. I know she doesn't act like it, but she is. What you're doing—" she closed her eyes and tried to push away the dark, disgusting thoughts, "what I know you're doing in there, is illegal."

Ian challenged her, "I don't know how you get up on that high horse of yours, Melissa, I've seen you partake in a few illegal things too."

"Not this," Melissa said. "Please, I'm doing this for you, I'm trying to give you the chance to get our unscathed, Ian. Because once Alison gets bored, she'll throw you to the sharks."

Alison bared her teeth. Everyone else were fish; she was the shark.

"You're jealous," Ian chuckled. "Baby, there's no reason to be, she doesn't mean anything to me."

Alison seethed. She was not just a shark. She was a great white.

"Ian, you're not thinking clearly about this," said Melissa, desperately trying her hardest to save a man she couldn't raise. "You need help — it's a sickness. And if you're not careful, you'll ruin our future."

"That's what the videos are for," Ian told her. He ran his cold hand up Melissa's arm. "And thanks to you, I've got dirt on a cop now."

Anger boiled Alison. Her spite was scolding her alive. Ian was still talking about a future with Melissa when she was in his bed. She was the one in front of his camera. She was the star. Realisation dawned on her, crystal clear.

This wasn't love. This was blackmail.

Alison locked onto the camera. She crawled across the messy bed to get it, plucking it up device from the tripod. The red, blinking light on its screen shut off once she stopped recording. Alison knew Ian would reach out if she deleted their little videos. Alison had been slippery enough to hold out all summer long, to tease him with the assumption he'd finally get to film a movie with him. This weekend eventually provided him that content, and Alison stripped it from him the way he did her couple days playing his girlfriend.

"—Ian, I'm taking her home, now," Melissa argued with him. She raised her voice. "Ian, move!"

"Just—" Ian panicked. "Wait, wait," he said. "Hey, stop, stop!" Yelled at her finally got through to Melissa. She froze with her back to him. "She's not gonna leave with you, okay? Please, listen," he said. "Just let me take care of this, so we don't make a scene, okay?"

Melissa, enrage, shouted at him, "I'm going to handle this!" She got in his face, threateningly. "I'm taking her home and I'm making sure she never tells the cops! And you're—" she pointed at him, "you're going to delete every single video your club ever made, including the one of Spencer and her friends the night Jenna Marshall was blinded— now, Ian, I'm serious!"

Rolling her eyes, Alison stifled her want to laugh. As if Melissa could force Alison or Ian to do anything they didn't want to. Alison would break Melissa if she ever dared, but Alison did agree with Melissa: those videos were too dangerous.

She travelled to get the laptop as the ex-couple's voices collided in a violent argument. Using the touchpad, Alison fast located Ian's collection. When the folder loaded, she was amazed at the quantity he had. They were separated into years, then into parties. In the 2009 one, Alison grimaced when she saw the one named 'BDfrat', wondering just how screwed up in the head Ian truly was to have kept such a memento. Still, Alison didn't delete it. She deleted hers.

Then, she found access to Halle's.

"—How could you be so stupid?" Melissa threw at Ian. "You brought her here, paraded her around like, what? Like she was some doll?!" she exclaimed. "She's fifteen, Ian. If anybody found out, you could get done for kidnapping a child as well as sex with a minor!"

Ian stuck his gross, pink index-finger in her face. "Nobody--" he yelled, startling her, "is going to find out, okay?"

Swallowing down her fears, Melissa said as she tried to remain strong, "You can never see Alison again."

"Fine," Ian agreed, his rage subsiding when he met his ex's terror. "Okay, I won't."

"Because if you do," Melissa clenched her jaw, tears fresh in her eyes, and warned, "someone's going to get hurt."

A smug smile fixed to Alison's face, anger tempering it. The paused video displayed Halle's first kiss with Jason, and Alison decided it would be a blood bath when the returned to Rosewood.  Her revenge would be red. It was the first video she copied over to the USB.

Searching for more — to add to her own collection — Alison had already saved the 'BDfrat'. She then discovered another that piqued her interest, which only caused her satisifaction to soar. "Jenna and Toby?"

Ian played against Melissa's insecurities and dangled the future she was building for them since senior year in front of her. "Look, if you drag Alison out of here, there's no way she's not making a scene and I'm not ending up in handcuffs," Ian said, scaring her. "It'll bring so much attention to your family and me, that — even if I get out on bail or I'm found innocent — your dad would never allow us to be together. Melissa, listen, you were the one who wanted to take a break," he half-accused. "I've just been killing time, waiting for you to come back. You know it's only ever really been you for me, everyone else is just fun."

Alison gagged. She didn't know at what, though. If it was Jenna abusing her step-brother, Toby the defenceless and depressed freak, or Ian sweet-talking Melissa through the doors. It was sick. Both were. But Alison knew, as she copied every one of Ian's movies, that sickness could had to soon meet her mercy.

Or her lack of it.

After all, Alison DiLaurentis was — and always will be — a great white shark. When she got hungry or bored, she ate. And when Alison ate, she devoured.

Tearfully, Melissa told Ian, "I don't ever wanna lose you again."

He kept his stare on her as he replied, "You won't."

They kissed as if it sealed the deal. Alison heard and scoffed. She was glad. Melissa and Ian really deserved each other, she scornfully thought, but it didn't mean Alison hadn't got her uses for him.

So, with her bags — and armed forcefully with a memory stick of his videos — Alison left. She fled through the balcony, leaving its doors wide open so Ian would think she'd left with the wind. Truth was, he was the one in the wind.

After Alison recounted it, she said, "I went there to get away from A, but when I left, I had what I needed to shut A down." She told them, "Those videos changed the game. Even if I hadn't found which video implicated A yet, I knew I had the power to, and naturally, I thought it was Jenna." Alison mentioned, "Jenna was at the top of my list, she had every reason to hate me." Sourly, her top lips curled up as she spoke, "She always had her little dog Garrett to do her dirty work." Glady, Alison finished, "And even if she wasn't A, that video promised we'd get off from The Jenna Thing without so much as graze. Either way—" Alison couldn't help but smile, "I won."

"It would be so easy for me to convince your daddy and my mommy that you've forcing yourself on me."

A proud smirk was worn on her face while she draped her body over Toby's, as she took off his shirt, taunting him for being so defenceless under her forced touch. Now, Jenna trembled behind black sunglasses. She wasn't nearly as confident as she had been to Toby all the nights she ruined him as she enjoyed his body. Alison paused the disgusting video. Jenna couldn't see it, just starting to adapt to her permanent darkness, but she had recognised her voice as it jeered at Toby in the same way Alison was gearing up to do to her.

Jenna's voice shook, "Where did you get that?"

"The guy I like likes to make movies," Alison said, hands clasped together, head tilted to the side. "I thought they were just of me. You think you know people... And then, they surprise you." She watched as Jenna writhed on her neat-as-a-pin, white bed of her new temporary home, a school for the blind in Philadelphia. "Turns out the boy next door gets off on watching all the girls next door." She chanced a step, malicious as she added, "And darling Jenna isn't the victim. Freak Toby is."

"I'm not proud of that," Jenna mentioned in poor offence.

Alison let out a cruel scoff, "I so don't care." She told Jenna, who shook shook her head, "I'm gonna keep this under lock and key, and if you keep our secret, it'll stay there."

Jenna could feel the prick of tears overcome her. "Fine."

Barely able to contain her callous nature, Alison said, "I thought you'd see it my way." Next, she tugged the memory stick from out of the laptop, enjoyed how the reeked chaos everywhere she went. When Jenna stayed quiet, Alison fetched up the devise, closing it before she held it to her chest. "Oh, and Jenna," Alison remembered, "if you ever come back to Rosewood," she dropped her voice and growled, "I'll bury you."

"I was hardly out of the door when my phone went off," Alison let her friends know. "I signed out, literally just wrote my name, and my phone went off like a frickin' siren — 'Bitch can't see you but I do. Tonight's the night I kill you'."

The five friends glanced between each other. They had had their fair shared of terrifying threats — some rhyming, some haunting, all disparaging.

"Knowing what I had on her," Alison reasoned. "I mean, Jenna would never have sent that text." She deflated almost. "I was wrong, she wasn't A, but..." her head fell at a slight tilt, lips twitching up in satisifaction, "I was coming home to tell you guys the news, that you didn't have to ever worry about The Jenna Thing. So long as I had those videos, Jenna would keep her trap shut and we'd never get in trouble for it."

Daring to speak, Hanna interrupted, "We know." She was resentful, bitter towards Alison as she bragged before them. "We know you set us up for The Jenna Thing, we know it wasn't Toby in that tree."

"It was Ian," stated Spencer firmly.

Ashamed, Alison ducked her head low. She fiddled with her fingers. "I knew Ian was collecting videos," she explained. "At first, I thought it was just of me — that he was obsessed with me or something, and I liked that. I liked the attention," she said, fondly smiling. "But CeCe—" their interest piqued at the name they knew well, "told me the truth, she told me about NAT club." Alison sounded bored as she recalled this to them — like she was somehow already over it while her friends were still under it. "She said NAT was some gross boys' club from when they were all seniors. CeCe also found out Ian was paying girls to set up their friends, and I needed the money, so I promised him a good show."

"Us naked," Aria accused hatefully. "Us vulnerable and naked."

"That, and blackmail material," Alison confessed. "Look," she said straightforwardly, "it's no secret that I didn't like Jenna, but That Summer... She was stepped on my turf. She was getting far too close to what was mine—" An evil glint came to her eye. "I had to remind her where her place was. I had to teach her a lesson she wouldn't forget."

The sun at Higbee Beach was brutal. An impatient Alison wanted to tan, not burn, so she spent the highest peak of the day by the cabana, under a red and white striped umbrella. She sipped her fruity, little cocktail through a straw, scanning the sandy shore from the comfort of her deckchair.

Ian Thomas, on the other hand, risked the sun turning him pink, then red. He tore up and down that beach all day long now that him and Melissa had broken up. Every girl he came across wasn't safe from his charming smile and sweet-talk. His camera was attached to him under the guise of 'capturing memories'. It was obvious to Alison that he was cherishing his newly single freedom a little too much, by smothering himself in attractive girls on summer vacation, but that camera was on her at dinner last night. Yet, Ian was hot, so when girls threw themselves at him, who was he refuse a different slice of fun each day?

"God, could you get any more pathetic," sassed Alison, pushing up her heart-shaped sunglasses up her nose. They were a gift to herself after she purchased her copy of Lolita; she had posed a photograph of her reading it today on her profile. "They must reek of desperation," she sneered of the girls in skimpy bikinis.

"You're just jealous," chimed CeCe Drake from her sun lounger. Her eyes were shut under her sunglasses, enjoying the heat in her own blue two-piece. She barely gave her attention to Alison, however, she knew it was Ian that Alison was hyper-fixated on. "You wish it was you."

"They're sluts," damned Alison sharply. "That's all they are to him."

CeCe rolled her eyes and said, "No, they're content for his boys' club."

"Content?" Alison questioned her, puzzled slightly. "What, like, he shares the videos he takes?"

"Something like that," CeCe mused with a gentle hum. "Sharing videos rather than actual girls — that way the boy who can't score get to score anyway." She opened one eye, peeking over to check on her younger project, and CeCe noted the unease on Alison's face as she stared at Ian with his camera. "You don't know, do you?"

"Don't know what?" snapped Alison violently. It ripped from her throat like a growl. She was livid. She felt insipid that it hadn't just been her and that Ian had been recording more than he did with her.

"Okay, dial it back, sweetie," CeCe said, laughing off Alison's reaction. "I can't believe you're gonna freak out over NAT."

Confused clouded Alison's rage. "NAT?"

"Oh, my god," gasped CeCe loudly. She swung up fast, planting her feet on the sand as she faced Alison. She tore off her sunglasses and awed, "You don't know about NAT — oh, my god. It's so gross, you'd love it," she said, grinning devilishly.  "So you know how your beach hottie—" she referred to Ian, "is currently camping out in your brother's room since he broke up with little miss perfect?"

"Yeah, I didn't even know Jason and Ian were friends," Alison admitted her befuddlement at the scenario of Ian living out at her house.

"They're not, not really," said CeCe. "Not anymore. but in high school, in our last year, those three were inseparable."

"Three?"

"Jason, Ian, and Garrett," CeCe revealed with a wide-set smile. She absolutely love it — glowed with the gossip. "They started this club, right? NAT, they called it. Nobody knew what it meant but everybody knew what it was." Her smile grew larger, more cunning. "They videoed girls at parties. It was, like, a little flirty thing at first and you'd let it happen because you wanted them to think you were hot. But like with every good thing, it goes bad. The girls got more messy, more drunk, more..." she searched for the word, "naked. Every nasty little thing that happened no longer stayed at the party — Ian shared with his little club."

"Ew—" Alison pulled at face, "I didn't know he was so... weird," she said, uncertain of how to navigate the discomfort in her stomach from her crush.

"Yeah, but it's fun if you can use it," CeCe mentioned, with a smirk. "I beat out Melissa Hastings from prom queen by playing up to Ian and his little club. He's a big, dumb, horny dog — throw him a bone with the right kind of meat..." CeCe pushed her up her breasts to grab the focus of other's around them, "and NAT's yours."

Alison's jaw dropped. "You're kidding."

"Nope." The smirk pulled deliciously at CeCe's lips. "And it's not just girls he's interested in, either. He goes after any dirty secret. The sexier, the better."

"So, like an affair?" Alison speculated with two in mind. "Let's say, a student-teacher one or neighbours?"

"Exactly Ian's type." Content with how she concluded it, CeCe chose to recline back on the lounger to relax. Her eyes were shining with mischief, having caught sight of Ian down by the water. "NAT's at work as we speak, it looks like Jenna's his new star."

"What?!"

Alison's eyes whipped to the beach, inflamed with fury. There, she discovered Jenna Marshall in the tiniest, black bikini she had ever seen, hair and body wet and glistening from her swim. Jenna laughed at Ian's joke, touched his bare chest, and smiled directly at his camera. Immediately, Alison burst into a fiery hell and wished for the lens to crack under her violent glower.

"I know she's thrown herself at Garrett," CeCe stirred carelessly, "but rumour has it, she really has her eyes on Ian. Garrett's just too love-drunk and starved of attention that he's fallen for the first girl who paid him enough attention." Putting her sunglasses on again, CeCe announced, "Guess you've got some competition, Ali, watch your back."

They were stunned as she finished. Shocked rocked them. It destroyed them. All the guilt and shame the five had torn themselves over for three years was pin-pointed to Alison's jealousy due to Ian Thomas. They blinded a girl for life because of Alison. because Alison wanted to warn Jenna off Ian. It ruined the girls, suffocating them.

"You really blinded Jenna because of... because of Ian?" Emily asked, feeling utterly terrible as her gut clenched.

"I didn't know it's blind her, okay?" retorted Alison poorly.

"But you did wanna hurt her," Halle unsurprisingly argued. "You wanted to teach her a lesson."

"So, we blinded Jenna with you," Aria uttered out of cold, freezing shame.

"And we let Toby take the blame," Spencer put.

"We'll get to that," Alison promised them honestly. "It's coming."

•

Panic-stricken, the Brewster house was flooded with blue and red. For house, after multiple unanswered phone-calls, Halle's parents launched into immediate action when their daughter failed to return home. Soon, they discovered that none of the girls — Halle, Spencer, Emily, Aria and Hanna — had been seen since the 'Engaged To Change' fundraiser, and worry had catapulted onto the five families' lives. Within two seconds of the confirmation, they were missing, Nick Brewster had taken it upon himself to drive through the streets of Rosewood while his wife used up every contact she had to help locate their daughter and her friends.

"Mom," Myles felt himself go faint. His eyes were pinned to the picture-window of the living room. "Mom!"

Her son's shout captured her focus from the Channel 7 article — the image of Halle in a big, poufy wedding dress within it. Luisa's large eyes flashed up, her face lit up with siren colours.

"No." It left her like a ghost. "Please, Lord, no."

Myles was the bravest of the two. He walked from the living room to the door, seemingly becoming the adult more so than his mother in that dangerous, uncomfortable moment. He opened the door to have his stomach drop through the floor when he was met with Lieutenant Tanner.

"Are your parents home?" asked Tanner, dead-panned and stoic. When Myles stepped back, Tanner crossed the threshold of the family house with several officers behind her. She looked at a shaking Luisa and accepted the frailness. "Mrs Brewster," he addressed. "This is a search-warrant for the premises."

"On what grounds?" Myles asked, snatching the paper from the officer.

"On the grounds that we have reasonable belief that Halle and her friends know the whereabouts of a missing person," explained Tanner. "Can you direct my officers to Halle's room?"

"I, uh..." Luisa stumbled, unsure. "I have to call my husband."

It caused Tanner to purse her lips in curiosity. "Is your husband not home? Where is your husband, Mrs Brewster?"

"He's out looking for Halle," Luisa said. She informed the confused lieutenant, "She and the girls haven't been seen since the fundraiser, they're not answering their phones, they're missing."

The worry was evident within Tanner. "And you've not seen or heard from them in how long?"

"Since this afternoon."

Tanner quickly faced one of her officers and ordered, "Contact control and tell them we need to put out an APB for all five teens." She listed them forcefully, "Halle Brewster, Spencer Hastings, Emily Fields, Aria Montgomery and Hanna Marin. Now," she ordered firmly. "I want all lead detectives at their properties to interview the parents, get statements. I want recent photographs of the girls on the news and sent to every police station from here to Philly."

"What—" Myles expressed his high confusion. "I don't understand, what she'd do?"

"Nothing," said Tanner, "but we have probable cause to believe they know where Alison DiLaurentis is."

Myles refused, "Alison's dead."

"Alison's alive, and your sister is with her," argued Tanner sternly. "I don't have time for this, they could be danger."

"Just..." Luisa was weak, shaking, as she said, "I have a child in bed, you're going to scare her."

"I give you my word, Mrs Brewster," Tanner sincerely said, "these officer will be in and out with as little distress caused to your family."

Myles waited, shocked at he held the warrant. "Mom?"

"On the right side of the hall, front room," Luisa confirmed for the police, and, in and instant, the uniformed officers went to work. "Bring my daughter home safe."

"I will."

•

The day was hot, which was surprising considering it was the last of summer. Rosewood had been blessed with a glorious summer, warm days and breezy nights, long mornings at the lake and cool nights on back porches. Halle Brewster spent most of it with her five friends, but reserved her late nights and early mornings for Jason DiLaurentis, the smell of weed lingering in her hair when she met with the girls.

Being out of the gilded cage of high school had changed a few things in Halle's life, and the cheap tricks and poisonous comments of Alison had worn thin. She started to drag. The fun of her friendship waned, and all five girls were done. They were exhausted and angry and ready to do something about it.

"So, you wanna do this tonight?" Spencer Hastings had asked the four. Sat in Emily Fields' bedroom, the childish yellow walls and floral bedding an outputting contrast to the heaviness of their conversation. "It's our last chance," she said.

"Tonight is good," Halle replied. She was the most forth-coming and eager of the group. She stood against the wooden dresser beside the bedroom door, surveying the rest of them with narrow eyes. "We're all still good with that, right?"

"I don't know," Emily said warily. She, along with a couple others — Aria Montgomery and Hanna Marin — were among the more sceptical and nervous of them. "What it if goes bad?"

"It's a prank, Em," Halle reasoned. "We're just scaring her."

"Yeah," agreed Spencer. "The plan is to scare her."

"Just like she did to us, on Halloween," Halle reminded firmly. She noticed the timid look upon Hanna's face, how she chewed at her nails anxiously at the foot of Emily's bed. "You do remember what she did to us that night?" Halle glanced at the dull blonde and said, "How she made you cry — it was a sick prank."

"But we're no better than Ali if we do this," Hanna said weakly.

Halle went to her and crouched low, meeting Hanna's worried gaze. She said, "Ali needs to learn she can't treat people like that. She can't treat you like that, Han. No more, okay?"

Hanna gave a small nod as well a quiet, "Okay."

"Aria?" Spencer asked, and Halle picked up her head and looked over to the petite girl curled up on the window-seat.

The girls played with her hair, twiddling one pink strand around a finger. Aria looked up, hot tears filled her eyes, and she spoke with a strong determination. "I wanted to believe she was a good person, but she's not... Ali's a terrible person." She inhaled sharply and said, "She knows something about my family and she's holding it over my—my head," she seemingly stammered. "I can't let her do it anymore."

"So, we agree?" Spencer asked.

Aria nodded, as did Hanna.

Emily held back.

"Come on, Em," Spencer urged, "you were the one who called us, remember? Three days ago you were madder than any of us, you wanted Ali to pay."

"It's why we came up with this plan," Aria explained.

"It's just a prank, right?" Emily asked, checking.

Briefly, Halle met Spencer's eyes. They held it, something passing between the two, and then Halle nodded. "Yeah," she said, smiling reassuringly up at Emily. "Yeah, it's just a prank."

"Look," Spencer began. "You don't have to do it if you don't wanna. You can walk away from this. Any of you. Just..." Spencer took a breath and changed her mind, "No, no, if we don't do anything, Ali's just gonna keep messing with us and getting away with it."

"Give it tonight," Halle explained. "We give it tonight, see what she does and when she falls asleep, we act — or we don't. See how many more comments and remarks you can take."

A series a chimes sounded out. All of their phones went off and broke the tense atmosphere. Sighing, Emily reached for hers from off her desk. She read it just as the others did. "It's Ali, she's almost here," Emily said glumly. "She wants us to meet her at the curbside."

Halle stood up and wiped her hands on her jeans. Dryly, she added, "What Ali want, Ali gets."

Alison DiLaurentis glowed. The sun had laid a kiss upon her, leaving her skin golden and her hair lighter wisps of blonde. She greeted them straight out of the cab with a large smile, squinting up her face with glee. "Oh, my god! I missed you guys so much!" she said brightly.

"Why are you so tanned?" asked Aria, startled by the rich colour of her friend's glistening skin.

The confusion travelled among the gaggle of girls, and Spencer was next to pick up on it. "How did you get so sun-kissed sitting in your grandma's apartment? I thought she was like, bed-ridden and in a cave," Spencer teased.

While the comment seemed to make Halle's back dart up, alarmingly uncomfortable, Alison wore a huge mischievous grin and jested back, "Doesn't mean I was." She looked around at them and asked, "So are we still on for tonight, ladies?"

"Yeah, totally," Halle responded. She glanced over to Spencer knowingly and mentioned, "Spencer's mom said that we could use their barn." Both Halle and Spencer shared a smile, a secret hiding just beneath.

Still unsure and fearful, Hanna tried to argue, eyes pleading with her friends "Yeah, but there might be a major storm tonight, so I don't know if—"

Alison cut her off sharply. With one hand on her popped out hip and her head titled to the side, Alison fired out at the mousy girl, "It's the last blow-out before school starts, Han, don't bring me down."

Seeing the sad look seep over Hanna's soft features, Halle's heart gave out for the girl. She knew what it was like to be shy and nervous, painfully insecure; Halle was that for years until Alison came along and showed her it was better to the opposite. So, the curly haired girl stepped forward and wound her arm around Hanna's, sliding her hand into hers and squeezing tightly. Hanna glanced to her and Halle smiled sympathetically before she rested her head against Hanna's shoulder; with Hanna laying hers on top afterwards.

"Hey — can one of you guys get those?" Alison asked, referring to her bags which the cabby had placed on the curb. She said, "My arms are really sore!"

"Yeah," said Spencer, already moving with Emily to collect them.

"Why?" asked Hanna. She tried to joke but only succeeded in making Halle's grip slacken. "Did you have to, like, lift your grandma and bathe her?"

"Yeah, it was really disgusting," replied Alison, smirking.

Curiously, eyebrows scrunched forward, Spencer asked, "Did you go to Hilton Head?" She fiddled with the tag attached to one of the cases.

"Oh, yeah," Alison said, "Nana had a day out. And she's really into golf. Don't ask," she giggled at the end before turning away. She looked away and then asked, "So, who's in change of refreshments?"

"Oh," Emily perked up. She sent a sly smile over to Hanna and announced proudly, "Hanna stole a bottle of tequila."

A beaming smile came over Hanna's face, chest full of pride. She definitely scored points with the girls over that. It was a shame it all came crushed down when Alison opened her mouth and gave another backhanded compliment.

"Genius — good job, Han!" Alison teased, "Hold onto those baggy sweaters."

Speaking on a conversation the leader thought was put to bed, Spencer voiced, "Isn't Hilton Head in South Carolina? I thought your grandma lived in Georgia."

Alison's taunting smile dropped and a dead look replaced the gleam in her eyes. "It's still the South, Spence. Why so many questions?" Again, she turned and shut off the conversation. She grasped at both Hanna's and Aria's hands and pulled them towards the sweet, little pathway leading towards the Fields' house. "Guys, we've gotta long night ahead of us." She shot a warning glare over her shoulder at Halle but kept a dazzling smile on her face. It was in those dead eyes, Halle sensed the current was changing in her friendship with Alison. "I can't spill every detail the minute I hit the curb. Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it," she said excitedly, letting the two attached fall into joyous squeals.

•

"So," Hanna concluded in questioned, "when you got that text, you just crossed Jenna off your list?"

It was a steep, tedious task. A battle the five fought constantly. They never fully managed to do it — eliminate Jenna from their A-list. Every time she appeared, tapping back into their lives, looking straight through them with pitch-black glasses, Jenna was implicit. They were involved in the crime against her, why wouldn't Jenna be in the ones against them? She was forever shady — forever a victim and a liar to them. There wasn't ever an interaction where the girls hadn't thought Jenna Marshall wasn't anything more than an untrustworthy rat.

But Alison had done that day.

The day she disappeared.

"And when I got home—" Alison tightened her jaw and ground her teeth, "A made it clear that if she wanted to kill me, she could."

There was a childish giddiness to Alison's walk as she returned home after seeing her friends. She was always amazed at how good of a liar she really was. She looked Halle directly in her eye and lied. Alison pretended with a breezy disposition that she hadn't just gained the most perfect revenge to play; she had filled the pages of her diary with the sanctimonious horrors she'd inflict on her best friend as soon as school started up.

Maybe Alison should start saying ex-best friend...

She already had one of the new four primed to take Halle's place. All four would snatch, bite and kick to get it. Yet, Aria had been calling Alison her best friend for months now — ever since they trashed Aria's father's work office together. Alison missed those earrings from her Vivian-wardrobe, but they served a crucial purpose.

As did everything else in her plan.

It started with a yellow top.

It was on her bed, in a fancy box. Her mother had bought for her in late July and yet had refused to give to Alison after that 'awful, little stunt' she pulled in public where she held her breath until her mother gave her what she wanted. Keeping the yellow top for so long had been two kinds of punishment: for holding her breath and then trashing the Cape May rental. In Alison's defence, she didn't know just how much of a party boy Ezra Fitz was until then. He was a fabulist just like her, she had learnt.

It's a great colour on you.
—Mom

The note read like a typical Jessica DiLaurentis apology or refused to properly chastise her children. Alison almost laughed. Still, she slipped right into the new top and it fit like a glove. Alison was her happiest when she got her own way. She had never been so brimming with it as when things went the very way she planned and she looked good when it happened.

To complete the look, she needed lipstick. Jungle Red. Alison supposed Vivian Darkbloom gave her more than cover; it let her find new things to make her signature. A bold, red lip made Alison unforgettable, and everybody wanted to kiss her when she wore it.

Or be her.

That was A's problem. They were Alison. They were getting too close to Alison.

When she turned, Alison soon learnt that. Alison jumped, gasping at the sight. She had been so distracted — too in her own gleeful thoughts of revenge and satisifaction — that she failed to notice the red on her vanity mirror. In her favourite shade of lipstick, a taunt was left for her.

I'M EVERYWHERE
AND SOON YOU'LL BE NOWHERE
-- A

Alison didn't wear Jungle Red the night she left after all.

"I wasn't safe anywhere," Alison told them. She noted as the conversation carried on, the five friends opposite her had naturally grown closer. They entwined around one another; their knees practically touched. "But I finally had a weapon to fight back," she admitted, almost too defiantly. "I realised everyone I suspected..." she drifted off, her tone lilting, "even the five of you," she said, "you were somehow comprised on those videos."

Her blue eyes moved. They landed on Halle specifically. The first one not to hug her. The one with more than enough reason to never want to help her. "You more than anyone, Hal." Alison's face tightened, contorting, as she welled up. "I never should've taken the one of you," she said to her. "I should've deleted it the moment I saw what it was."

Halle's core was tender. Her whole body was. It clung to the agony of what happened to her — of the hateful crime committed against her. She held it in every fibre of her being, her skin far too porous to let it not entirely affect her very existence. The whole ordeal was like prodding a bruise for Halle. "But you didn't," returned Halle. "And Mona found what you wrote. She only did what you didn't get the chance to."

Speaking out in defence of her dear friend, Hanna released how appalled she was. "You'd have done that to Halle? You'd have leaked that video for revenge?"

"I was angry," Alison inserted. "She was messing around with my brother."

"That doesn't excuse it, Ali," warned Emily, most fiercely. "It doesn't excuse any of it."

"I know." Alison gave a sad whimper. "I can understand if you hate me, Hal, I hate me for what I let Mona do to you. She ruined you and I'm—" she choked on her own tongue, "I'm aware I would've ruined you, too. I'd like to sit here, hold my hands up and say 'I wouldn't have done it,' but it's a lie." Her tearful eyes met Halle's, those dark ones glistening with water also. "I would've done the same."

Halle turned her head away. She ducked it while she shielded her fallen tears from Alison. Silently, she let them out over her shoulder and raised her hand up to wipe them away with its heel.

Alison continued, "I was so angry with you and jealous. I had never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at Jason in that video. I have never seen him do the same, either. Or act how he did when he was with you. Even at that party," Alison delved further, "the one where you rubbed it in my face, I saw it. You were a pretty convincing liar, but I knew liars and I knew you. I could see you were falling for him." With a careless shrug, Alison justified it, "You picked Jason before I even asked you to choose."

It sparked fury within Halle. Utter outrage fuelled her as Halle fought her ex-friend so strongly on it. "But I did choose you," Halle said. "Ali, I ended it That night. I hurt him, so bad—" her voice weakened, straining thin. "I sent him on one of the worst benders of his life because of you. Because I chose you."

"I'm sorry," Alison released.

A tear slipped down Halle's cheek. "I wish I could believe you."

Aria checked in on Halle, a soothing hand rested on the latter's back. "Are you okay?"

"We can stop if you need it," Emily reassured her comfortingly. She searched for Halle's hand from over Aria, stretching to loop her pinkie around Halle's own.

Alison chimed, "Are you sure you wanna do that?" All of them looked to her, stunned at the gross insensitivity but torn at the time that kept ticking by. "We only have tonight, and your part is coming up, Em."

It left Emily drained. "My part?" she questioned. "I'm not until... My memory's the last piece," said Emily, confused.

"Not that one," replied Alison, with a soft shake of her head. She mustered up a little smile for Emily. "I gave you the key, remember?"

The two sat upon Emily's bed. The raven-haired girl grew suspicious of the golden blonde's affection, especially when the signature Ali-smile appeared to grace Alison's face. "I brought you a present back from my trip," Alison said. She reached for her bag and brought it over to her lap. "But you have to keep it a secret," she whispered playfully. "I didn't bring anything back for the other girls, so." She kept her eyes on Emily and told her, smiling, "If they ask about, you have to lie."

Emily gave a nervous chuckle. It wasn't the only thing she'd be lying about, she thought.

"Promise?" Alison's sweet tone cut through straight through Emily. Her cerulean blue eyes pierced Emily's skin, making the swimmer go hot. Emily ducked her head low, glancing up through thick lashes bashfully.

Alison dove her hand inside her bag. She returned it with a a heavy clump of pink tissue-paper and handed it to Emily, who looked both flattered and dubious.

Emily unwrapped it. She pulled the rustling papers away from the present and revealed the snow-globe, a delicate cherry-blossom tree in the centre. Her breath caught in her throat as she sweet gesture, Emily only managed to push out, "It's beautiful."

Smiling, Alison told her, "It's vintage. My grandma gave it to me. I wanted you to have it."

With her jaw slackened, Emily's mouth hung open a little. She was speechless, lost for words. It was so unlike Alison to gift something so tangible to her. Emily almost begged the questions if Alison had changed in the small time she had been away. Had she softened? Was she ready to return Emily's love? This gift was a start, Emily thought hopefully.

"You're the only one who really understands me," said Alison, and it fuelled those lingering feelings inside. Unhooked the latch on Emily's cage of butterflies, letting them swarm her stomach in fast flutters of her raging crush. "The only one I can completely be honest with."

In an instant, Emily heard everything she ever wanted Alison to say. She grinned ear-to-ear, eyes so full of immense love for the girl in front of her. Emily took the risk and rushed in. She pressed her lips to Alison's, hands still clutching the base of the snow-globe. She only prayed — hoped with all of her — that Alison would kiss her back. But Alison's lips were still, unmoving. The realisation slowly seeped in, and severe embarrassment came in fast after. Emily backed away, baptised once more by the rejection in its highest form.

Alison didn't love her. Alison hadn't changed. This was just a sick trick to get Emily on side again. Like those bracelets signified the Jenna Thing and silenced them, this snow-globe was supposed keep Emily quiet. Yet it wasn't working anymore. The cool glass of the snow-globe burned Emily's fingers, and any hope she had of her and Alison being real vanished.

Alison tried to smile. She spoke softly. "I have to go," she said, already collecting up her handbag. "I have a prior engagement."

Emily cleared her throat. "We'll definitely see you later, right?" she checked.

Nodding, Alison answered, "Yeah."

An uncomfortable feeling passed between them, stirring up a tense atmosphere within yellow walls. To reel her in and fix it, Alison tilted her head and smirked. "Don't have any fun without me." The pair exchanged a brief smile and Alison slid off the bed. She got to the door, stopping to turn back. She saw Emily was busy inspecting it, a sad frown on her face. Alison raised her voice again.

"Make sure you put that in a safe place," she said, and Emily picked up her head. "It's a lot more valuable than it's looks." She flashed a smile then left, leaving Emily to stare at the empty doorway.

Her memory was jogged, and Alison brought Emily and her friends out of it just as fast. "I trusted you with it," Alison disclosed. "I could always count on you, Emily, you were the only one I thought was loyal enough to never throw it out. You'd feel too guilty, too attached, to get rid of something I gave you," she contented to her.

Emily felt her mouth go dry and then shut. Did Alison expect her to be thankful? Why had she not deserved an apology for that? She thought maybe it wasn't as severe as Halle's. Yet, Emily's heart broke in that moment. It shattered. Why didn't she get an apology for that? It was simple. Alison didn't list Emily among her crimes.

"Why'd you hide Ian's video?" Spencer wondered. "You hired a storage unit to hide them and then you gave away the key to Emily, why go that far?"

Hardening, Alison wasn't too fond of the suspicion into each action she ever made. Her gaze narrowed to slits. "We do know how we ended up here, right? Somebody wanted me dead, remember? Somebody else still does," she stressed the importance. Alison bit her lip, head low. "I wish I had prepared more, really."

Hanna poked, "What does that mean?"

"It means I was too smug for my own good," said Alison harshly. "I wasn't just blackmailing people over affairs—" she avoided Aria, "I was blackmailing cops, too."

"Wilden," Halle knowingly finished, and Alison nodded.

Emily remembered, "When you left mine, you said you had a prior engagement?"

"I did," Alison confirmed. "I met Darren on my way home, he was waiting for me."

Her home was within her line of sight. Alison chose to walk back from Emily's the back way, like she was always planning to. There was a certain benefit of being the end house; all the trees and shrubbery created a great sheltered place to meet. The shadowed part of the road was where she found his patrol car, already parked up with him inside waiting for her. She noted the rolled down window.

"You're early," she voiced, and alerted Wilden to her presence.

"I'm on shift," he stated. Wilden, green from experience even in his blue uniform, climbed out of the cop car. "I'm surprised it's just you. Where's your friend?"

"She's busy," Alison said straightforwardly. "And the last time you saw her, she broke up with you and you pulled a gun on her, remember?"

His jaw locked. "She's blackmailing me."

"So am I, sweetie," surmised Alison proudly. "And I have something really, really good on you," she bragged. "Or should I say bad. You got CeCe's email, right?"

"You guys want more money from me," Wilden concluded wrongly.

"That's not it this time," Alison said, shaking her head. "Something's gonna happen tonight with the club, and I need to make sure certain things," she hinted, "don't come out."

"What like?" asked Wilden.

Smiling, her voice dripped with honey, Alison said, "Bodies." She added, "I need to make sure that you hold back the blues when the first call comes in."

Wilden furrowed his thick brows. "I don't understand."

Alison scoffed, "I forgot — you're a rookie, not a detective." She let out a deep sigh and said, "Something's gonna go down tonight and Melissa—" she pursed her lips, "well, let's say just say you're gonna be the person she calls when it happens. So," she advised him greatly, "when she calls, I'm gonna need you to ignore her. And if I was you," she sneered, leering closer, "and I know what somebody had on me — the videos of all those parties, all those girls and the drugs and..." she pretended to think with a sigh,"How old was everyone in those? Do we know? Because if I was fifteen and on your boat—" Alison pointed to her chest, "I wonder who else was. And then," she chuckled, "your career's over. You'd be a rookie forever."

Gulping down his anger, Wilden said, "Okay, I'll keep away."

"Good," Alison broke in with a chirper smile. "I'm glad we can do business so mutually."

"Is she in on this?" questioned Wilden, jaw locking.

"No," Alison said with a smile. "I don't think Melissa Hastings would ever agree to have sex with you on camera, but it is her boyfriend's camera we used," she said to him. "So, she knows now and is trying to keep me quiet. I suggest you figure out a way to make sure everyone says quiet because I'll let you in on a secret, Darren." Alison released a little giggle, then her mouth stretched into a positively evil smirk. "Ian's not the only one with all those videos now — I have them, too."

Back in the apartment, Hanna guessed from all she collected so far, "So, Wilden... he's not beach hottie?"

"Oh, god, no," exclaimed Alison. "He was hooking up with CeCe and—" she shot a pointed look towards Halle, "if you should know one thing about CeCe, she doesn't like sharing her things."

"Good job Jason's not a thing, then," chided Halle out of annoyance.

"She said you defend him a lot," Alison praised, speaking of CeCe. "It's nice he has someone like that. He always struggled after the move. But, yeah—" she returned to Hanna, "Wilden's kind of slime's not my type. Neither's cop."

"Beach Hottie's Ian?" Spencer dissected.

"I only ever had room for one obsession at a time," Alison boasted. "Well—" she smiled devilishly, "maybe two, depending on the guy," she said. "But, no, Wilden never touched me. He was kind of obsessed with Melissa That Summer."

Timidly, Emily asked, "And the pregnancy? CeCe said you thought you were pregnant."

"It was a scare," Alison revealed, swallowing anxiously. "Though, that's an understatement. It should really be called 'a pregnancy petrify', but..." Her bottom lip quivered. "That wasn't Ian," she said, scared eyes searching for Aria.

Aria's heart pounded rapidly. She whispered, "Ezra?"

After another nervous, more painful swallow, Alison's spoke. Her voice shook, thinning and wavering. "It was just a scare, but it was enough to make me end things with Ezra," Alison said. "I didn't realise how scared of him I was until I didn't get my period."

"He got you pregnant?" Spencer asked her.

"I thought he did," emphasised Alison. "But I did think he'd kill me if I was, or kill me if I got rid of it too. I guess that's why I backed off, why I broke it off with him."

Lowly, Aria asked her, "Ezra scared you that much?"

"He did."

•

They had been pushed in to the living room. Riley, a week shy of her tenth birthday, slept with her head in the lap of her mother; the soft, stuffed cow was tucked under her arm. With every thump or thud above, or the clambering up and down the staircase in open view of them, Luisa's thumb caressed her youngest's forehead. She soothed away the knots from a disturbed night when Luisa regrettably had to wake Riley up to bring her downstairs. Grateful that Riley was able to fall back asleep, Luisa stayed quiet the whole time.

It was three AM now.

In the connected dining room, Myles and Nick Brewster bickered. On the table laid a copy of a photograph proving Alison DiLaurentis was alive. Halle knew. Halle was in the photograph as well, from behind, dressed peculiarly in a taffeta-pink 1800's walking suit. Her friends knew, too.

"I'm not having this argument with you," Nick said. "Your sister is missing."

"She's missing because she's most likely with Alison," countered Myles. He pointed down at the image, his fingertip sore from the extreme pressure. "Alison's alive, and Halle lied about it."

Nick denied it, "We don't know that yet."

"Dad!" Myles let go of his frustration. "It's right there in front of you and you don't even look surprised. You're finding every reason to ignore it."

"Because I want to find Halle instead," Nick said firmly. He was too sick with worry, so how he ordered his priorities was unwavering. "They're in danger and—"

"We don't know that," Myles cut it. "But what we do know is — Halle's been lying again. I've tried to move past it — find excuses for her — but I can't. If she's in danger, it's because of her lies," he emphasised. "And Alison."

"You can't be certain," sighed Nick.

"I can," said Myles confidently. "Alison has been at the root of every problem Halle's involved in. Can't you see?" His voice raised. "It's Alison's fault — all of it. Everything can be put on her. Draw a straight line and guess where they all lead — Alison!"

Calmly, Nick said, "We haven't heard her story."

A hurt scoff left Myles. "You're unbelievable," he commented in disbelief. "You'd fit right in with Ali," he cursed, as he moved to leave. "She's a liar, too."

"Where are you going?" nick asked in exasperation.

"To walk Pacha," Myles shot. "You can't keep him him shut out like the rest of us."

After their son left, fleeing fast, Luisa raised her gaze to meet husband's tired sigh. Her chin was high as she challenged him on what was said. "He's right, you know," she mentioned, and Nick looked directly at her with a slight darkness to his expression. "You weren't surprised when I told you Alison's alive."

•

For a day that had been so beautiful — so hot with the last sprigs of summer — yet come eight o'clock, a storm was beginning to roll in. The sky was darkening, roaring with the static lightning. Jessica DiLaurentis watched it start. She stared out of the living room window; her eyes were peeled to the street, terror at the tip of her tongue.

"How could this happen?" she asked the called on the end of the phone. She held the landline to her ear while she panicked. "I don't understand."

A crack of bright lightning startled the late evening. Jessica frightened back. Her stare was broken from the window and caught a glimpse of yellow. She locked onto Alison stroll down the stairs with the intention of heading to Spencer's.

Jessica rushed to stop her. "I don't want you going out tonight."

Alison stopped and faced her mother with an immediate annoyance. "It's the last weekend of summer," she excused.

The phone was fixed to the side of her head, listening with one ear while she heard the backlash from Alison with the other. Jessica said, "It's not up for discussion."

Irritation flared up in Alison. She was gearing steadily up for an argument. Crossing her arms over her chest, Alison said, "We planned this ages ago, and you said it was okay."

"Ali," lectured Jessica severely, "now is not the time." Her mouth twisted to the phone, obviously having heard a reply in her ear. "You need to send somebody, immediately," she demanded of the caller. In one swift move, Jessica ended the phone-call, put it down in the receiver, walked to Alison to Alison all while keeping a strict glaze to her glower.

"Is this about you thinking Spencer's the bully?" dug Alison curiously. "Because I have that under control now."

Nearing on her daughter, Jessica closed the space and said, "I know things about that family you don't."

"Really, like what?" Alison said. "Surely not the kind of things our family doesn't let people know."

Jessica gritted her teeth. "Alison, don't," she warned. "You're too young to know exactly what people are capable of. And you have to remember," she advised her daughter seriously, "you can never turn your back on a Hastings."

"I can say that about a lot of people," Alison dared with a stormy look that matched her own dear mother's. "Some might even say it about the people in this house — about me."

"Let's hope not," said Jessica breathlessly. The phone rang. It broke their brewing battle. "For once in your life, please," she begged Alison, "don't push me on this. Call it a night, go upstairs to your room."

Alison's sly eyes has snapped to the phone as it first rang. The screen lit up bright green and a sly, knowing smile spread across her lips as she read the ID.

RADLEY

At that, knowing how truly distracted her mother would become during that specific phone-call, Alison nodded. She faked her agreement — that she'd heed her mother's warning.

"Yes?" Jessica answered the phone, permanently in a state of panic. She foolishly put her back to the stairs, so didn't see as Alison slipped down past her. "And is there any news? Please hurry — I'm very, very worried," Jessica said.

With the second flash of lightning, Alison's nimble fingers opened the clasp of her mother's purse. She plucked out the orange pill bottle.

"Please send someone," pleaded Jessica.

Alison quietly uncapped the lid to the night-time sedatives and tossed a few of the blue capsules into her palm.

"I see. Mm-hm," Jessica hummed. "Yes!"

Hurrying, Alison sped up. She capped the bottle and smuggled it back inside the expensive purse. Afterwards, she fled, snatching up the overnight bag she had left by the back door.

•

The music was loud. Spencer Hastings could afford it to be since she and her friends were in the family barn, away from the house. It was strictly no parents tonight — the unwritten rule — and having the sleepover at Spencer's was the only way to reassure that happened for the girls.

It was their night. That was how Alison DiLaurentis sold it to them. This was going to be last weekend before they started sophomore year; they had to make the most of it and that meant no parents.

So, it was what the rest of girls wanted to do — and did. They did anything to please Alison DiLaurentis. Hanna Marin even stole a bottle of tequila from her mother's drink cabinet to impress the fellow blonde. The proud smile Alison gave to Hanna for a fleeting moment was worth the punishment she'd later face from her mother and the humiliation of Alison's back-handed compliment about big sweaters being useful.

All the girls lapped up Alison's approval. Even Halle Brewster, though she thought she was the only one who knew just how much power Alison truly had over them all. Halle realised the hold Alison had over her. The summer had shown her that and changed Halle in the process. She had stopped to pop the bubble Alison had placed around her and Halle started to notice things, clear and true — that perhaps pleasing Alison wasn't the thing she should be priding herself on.

"Halle, come join us." Emily Fields stood at the bottom of the ladders, looking up at the girl. She wore a soft smile, a sweet one, like all the ones Emily gave Halle. Out of the five girls Alison thrust upon Halle's life in the last year, Emily had become closest to Halle. Halle trusted her more than Alison, and she had known the blonde the longest.

Length wasn't what Halle was measuring her friendships on anymore — Halloween changed that for her. Halle made a promise that night to always be there for the four around her now, to protect them as best she could from the harsh glare Alison brought on their lives.

Halle cast her eyes down from where she was, sat up high by the top barn window. From there, she could watch the girls in their buzzed — almost tipsy — states. They were all happy, and Halle enjoyed seeing that. She liked watching them all be happy, smiling as they chatted the night away.

"Sure, one second." Halle put out the joint she was smoking and flicked it out of the window, it landing far away from the barn.

"My dad will find that," Spencer told her.

Halle stood at the top of the ladders and said, "Well, it's a good job you can lie, then. You have Jason and his stoner buddies to blame." She climbed down; Emily spotted her to make sure Halle didn't fall, and then Halle dusted herself off. Halle mentioned, "It's gotta be near the property line anyway. Your dad probably won't even ask, he'll assume it's Jason."

Flashing Emily a smile, Halle linked her pinky with Emily's own and they walked towards the collection of furniture in the centre of the barn, purposely put there for the sleepover.

"I still can't believe you smoke," Hanna Marin said, in almost as much awe as she held for Alison.

Halle took a seat on a camping chair. "It's medicinal, Hanna," she joked, "there's been multiple studies."

"It's stupid, that's what it is," said Emily disapprovingly. She was worried, on edge. "If the coaches knew—"

"They won't know anything, will they?" asked Halle of her friends, a stern look in her dark eyes. Halle couldn't afford for this to get out — for it to ruin her life. But she saw how nervous her friends got; they gave Halle a similar reaction to what Alison usually got when she threatened them. So, Halle put on a smile again and faked a convincing laugh, encouraging the others to laugh too. "Besides," Halle said, "the season hasn't even started yet, what I did in my off-time — in my summer — has nothing to do with Coach. It's just a bit of fun, all the girls on the squad do it." Still, she noticed Emily's discomfort and leaned across to Emily, giving her friend's knee a quick, reassuring squeeze. "Relax, Em, this won't stop you swimming. Cheerleading doesn't even have mandatory drug-testing. I mean, only if the coaches get suspicious, but that won't happen. What I did this summer doesn't affect you, promise."

Emily appreciated the reassurance and returned Halle's smile before she went back to sipping at her drink. Tonight, Halle wasn't partaking in drinking Ashley Marin's tequila; she didn't drink and smoke — a piece of advice a senior cheerleader taught Halle, after Halle learnt it the hard way.

"I wanna know how you got it," Hanna said abruptly. She had a big, beaming smile on her face as she waited for an answer from Halle.

"Me too," agreed Spencer. Spencer crossed her arms and looked at Halle's face, unflinching like nothing would get past her.

"Was Eric Kahn?" asked Aria Montgomery, breaking her silence out of curiosity for the brother of the boy she had been harbouring a heavy crush on for a few years now.

Halle laughed. "You do realise you can call him just Eric, right? But no," she shook her head and said, "it wasn't Eric."

"It's so cool that you're dating an older guy," Aria commented, grinning ear to ear as she relished in her friend's more saturated love-life. It had been the height of their summer gossip when Halle told them the Eric Kahn had gotten her number off of Noel and had asked her out — an offer Halle would never refuse.

"And it's Eric Kahn." Hanna gossiped, "You know, he was even more popular in high school than Noel is."

"Aria still thinks Noel is cuter," Halle teased, and Aria, with pink streaks in her hair, flushed the same colour, making her friends laugh.

Hanna gasped, her hand slapping down on the arm of her chair. "Halle! Do you think you can set that up? Aria and Noel?" asked Hanna eagerly.

"I don't know, Han, it's—"

"How poetic, Aria starts dating Noel because of you and you're dating Eric because of Ali!" Hanna beamed, "I am so next!"

Halle mustered up a smile for the blonde. "For sure, I'll try." Her short reply got a wide-set grin and a gleeful squeal from Hanna. Halle said anything to make her friends happy — did anything to make them happy, even if that meant putting Alison on a pedestal. Though, Halle regretted that she had done her part in putting Alison DiLaurentis up there in the first place.

The girls laughed together — smiles wide as they enjoyed their last sleepover before school started again. Yet, it stopped quick. Lightning struck loud, wiping out the lights. Their laughter ceased and an eerie silence took a hold of their throats.

All was silent between the friends at first. Halle exchanged looks, eyes shifting to each girl to see if there was an inclination to how they felt, and everyone was on edge.

"Whoa, what was that?" asked Spencer, high-pitched and squeaky.

Halle tried laughing it off. "I told you it was a bad idea to sleep out here tonight. It's a bad storm," she said, in hope she convinced them because she failed to do so with herself.

Aria reached for a flashlight and switched it on. In the new light, Spencer stood and lit candles. Suddenly, a creak scared the girls and they shot upwards, all erected from their seats now. Petrified, five sets of eyes were glued to the door.

"Guys, there's something out there," whispered Aria.

The door swayed open a little more, causing a rush of cold air to sweep in. They shivered. Slowly, step by step, they moved together. Gripping onto each other for dear life, fear ran through them like blood, pumping around and coursing through their veins; it was as much as part of them as any organ.

CRASH.

They jumped, hurling out their own squeals of terror. Halle went to touch the door handle. In her mind, she'd push it to and then run backwards, back to the safety of the others. It was only the wind, only the wind, it was only the wind — that was what she told herself as her hand reached out further. All she needed to do was to push the door shut, but she never got the chance.

"Gotcha!"

Alison leaped out on them. The five girls screamed, nails dug into cardigans in terror, and Alison laughed at them. It amused her. A wicked smile came onto Alison's face as she watched her friends try to steady their breathing. Hearts in their throats — she really got them.

"That was so not funny, Alison," Spencer told the girl off, just as Alison's mobile chimed.

"I thought it was hilarious, girls," replied Alison boastfully, as she glanced down to check who was calling her.

Toby.

Without another care, she simply strolled to the gathering of chairs laid out in the centre of the empty barn, declining the call. She had no consideration for anyone else and she never will.

"Well, you would," mumbled Halle, as she, like the others, inevitably followed Alison and sat down. Halle pretended to laugh it off with the other four. This was still her life and Alison had made it into a game — one Halle would be playing until she finally left Rosewood.

"Hey, Ali, did you download the new Beyoncé?" Hanna asked, eagerly awaiting what Alison thought. Hanna valued Alison's opinions higher than any other and her doting on Alison was key to their friendship. She cared so much about Alison thought and said that Hanna, now, carefully sat down in the camping chair — afraid of breaking it. It was in fear that Alison would laugh and torture her if it broke. After all, Alison's favourite pass-time was bullying her friends. Still, Hanna listened to Alison and smiled at the attention she was given briefly by the glamorous blonde she so desperately wanted to be like.

"Not yet," Alison said.

A small, coy smile appeared on Emily's face. She said, "I'm loving her new video."

Alison teased her in response, poison laced in the words, "Maybe a little too much, Em." It made Emily's smile die, cheeks tinged pink in flush embarrassment. It was shame on Emily's face, Halle knew it well.

"Oh, Halle?" Alison called for her attention. She wore a sick, all-knowing smile on her lips and said, "I have something of yours." Alison grabbed something from within her bag and then tossed the item to Halle; the brunette was caught off-guard but still able to catch it. In Halle's hand was her lighter — mother of pearl, gifted to her by her grandmother along with the matching barrel-cigarette case. "It's yours, right?" Alison asked, though she already knew the answer while she held two capsules in her warm palm.

"Yeah, yeah, it's mine," Halle said. "Thanks, I've been looking for this."

Smugly, Alison said, "You'll never guess where I found it... Jason's room. You'd be surprised at what you can find in there," she added, a little dead behind her eyes as she glared at Halle.

Hanna gave a gasp. "Was Jason who you were smoking with this summer, Halle?"

"Hanna, no, ew, that's Ali's older brother," Emily said. "Why would she be with him?"

While they were distracted, accusing and defensive stares all set on Halle, Alison craftly emptied out the white powder from the sleeping pills into the plastic cup. It was almost full, and Alison knew it was being shared between them. Yet, her nose detected the funky scent of weed in the air, lingering in the curls of Halle as she faced scrutiny she wasn't prepared for.

Halle laughed at their reactions. "No, it wasn't Jason. I must have just left it the last time I was at Ali's and he took it. Trust me, Han, a lighter's a lighter when you want to spark up. Jason probably just used it and then pocketed it. After," she explained, giving one of the best lies of the summer.

"Yeah, Hanna, that's probably what happened," Alison agreed. She tormented Halle with her knowing smirk, noting the water bottle at Halle's foot. Alison taught Halle how to lie and she knew all of Halle's tells. "Why else would be have it? Unless..." she dropped her voice low, "they're hooking up," hinted Alison. The barn went quiet, staying like that for a moment. Alison challenged Halle with a dangerous look, one to end a friendship.

Then, Alison snapped out of it. She threw herself back in the chair comfortable, laughing again. "Guys, I'm kidding. Halle would never do that to me, we're best friends," Alison said, causing the other four — unaware of the truth laced underneath — to laugh in relief.

"Good one, Ali," Aria laughed.

"Yeah, you really had me fooled," Emily agreed.

"I would've believed it more if she wasn't so loved up with Eric Kahn," Spencer teased playfully, and the girls — all except Alison and Halle — giggled. Noticing it, Halle faked a smile for the unsuspecting ones but kept her eyes on Alison, wary of the blonde's motives.

Alison knew for sure now what had been going on that summer and she was going to ruin Halle's life for it. This was just Alison's way of warning her. She was letting Halle know this was the end — that Alison was done with her.

The group's leader smiled and had an immediate change in attitude. She gave Halle a sickly sweet smile; her rosy cheeks reached high. Alison picked up a plastic cup and pushed it into Aria's hands, forcing it at her. "Your turn," she encouraged.

Aria never questioned it. None of the girls did. Instead, Aria took a large gulp of the liquid, feeling it burn her throat and doing everything in her power not to show it did. She was eager to impress Alison — they all were.

Spencer chuckled and said, "Careful, Aria, take too much and you'll tell us all your secrets," making all girls but Alison laugh.

Alison's face remained neutral. She only said, "Friends share secrets, that's what keeps us close, drink up."

They smiled at that, most of them. Halle didn't. She gulped nervously and shrunk in the chair she perched in, suddenly feeling unwelcome.

"Are you not drinking, Hal?" asked Alison innocently.

"Uh—"

"She smoked," Emily said, cutting Halle off. She shot Halle a disappointed look before she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, so that's just water?" checked Alison, already reaching for the bottle. "Do you mind?" she asked, honey-sweet. "I'm parched and you really shouldn't do that with tequila, I'm staying safe," she said, with the item now in her hands. "That's why you're not drinking, right?"

"Right," Halle said. She did her best to mask her nerves with a convincing smile. "Sure, go ahead — what's mine is yours," she said.

"I thought it was the other way around," Alison chimed slyly. She raised the bottle to her lips, eyeing Halle wickedly. It was a dig at Jason. At her brother. The whole night Alison would torture Halle with those hints, dropping them carelessly, the same way Halle took her water from Alison and drank from it, never knowing why she felt drowsy with each mouthful.

The weather continually got worse. By quarter to midnight, it had rained twice, and now the girls were out cold. Alison wasn't. She stayed up to monitor them, smile growing as one by one they each nodded off. She wanted to scream when she found a hidden duffle-bag by where Halle had previously been smoking a blunt; inside of it, five black hoodies, two zombie marks and a bottle of ketchup. Alison glared at it — at them as they slept soundly. She wanted to break something.

To break them.

She'd be glad it was over after tonight. She planned how she'd insight revenge on the lot of them. It was be slow, terrifying, make them distrust every single person. Even each other. Yes — Alison was glad to be going.

At a gentle knock on the barn door, Alison dumped the pig toy, loving owned by Aria and named 'Pigtunia', to the floor and rose. Skilfully, Alison weaved between the sleeping bodies, three of which were on the floor, and walked to the doors. Sliding them open, Alison wore a bored look on her face.

"What do you want, Toby?"

They abandoned the apartment, traveling down a couple flights of stairs to end up a maroon painted room. It was dark, moody, and Halle could just make out circularly tables dotted around the vast floor. It was the closed cafe they had entered through with Noel when they first arrived. Alison led them down to continue the aghast revelations, craving coffee and food now.

"I can't believe you drugged us," Aria put, miffed at the invasive act.

Although, Alison justified it, "Well, if I got another A-threat while you guys were asleep, I could cross you off the list."

Shooting her a harsh glower, Emily blew past the reasoning. "I can't believe we were suspects."

"I wasn't always a best friend to you guys," Alison freely admitted. The red cast upon her face followed her around the room. "Besides—" she flipped on the light, causing the wall-lamps to come to life, "you guys were planning something That Night, you just weren't A." She mused, "I often think what would've happened if I didn't spike the cup and you went ahead with The Prank. I don't think I would've had to die," concluded a glum Alison.

"Yeah, well, we'll never know," remarked Spencer shortly. She was bitter than the rest. "And your plan didn't work, either." She fixed Alison with a look. "I didn't sleep through the night."

"None of you did," replied the blonde, truth on her tongue. "Not really. But wait for it, Spencer, we'll get there," she promised, spoken casually over her shoulder as she started to move.

The lights had given a certain yellow hue to the cavernous room. Still, its red glow remained. With its polished table and a high bar around the front windows, it presented more like a cocktail bar than it ever did a cosy, quaint coffee shop. Its elegant colour stitched them to their spots, eyes flittering around as they absorbed their environment finally.

The largest window was awash with the cartoon image of a woman. A blackened-out silhouette of a singer and her old fashion microphone over a red crescent mood. The Mockingbird Cafe. Hanna recognised it from the email and admired, "So you work here?"

"The owner travels a lot," Alison told them from where she now stood, beside the barista-station. The coffee machine whirred next to her. "I watch the place upstairs when he's gone."

"And Noel knows about it?" Halle wondered.

"He helps me get places," Alison disclosed. "He's been a really big help, honestly. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have survived a few situations or stayed gone as long as I have." Kindly, she added, "He's the one who told me to come here."

"He's Pike 40?" questioned Emily in an instant.

Alison gave a nod. "His family's cabin's on Sumneytown Pike and his—"

"Jersey number's 40," finished Halle. Her gut somewhat ease knowing Alison had Noel to protect her — to help her stay safe. Halle would want the same, and yet, Halle didn't trust him to do so, not with this. Not now she knew he had kept this from her... But she had kept things from him, too.

In the far corner, Spencer wandered from them. Her damaged memory lapsed into the deluded fantasy she had during Halle's 'Chicago'. Her overactive imagination had placed Alison perfectly in an establishment just like this one, performing twice nightly at a piano. Lightly, Spencer pressed a couple of the ivory keys and surprised her friends with the police music.

"Toby told me he wanted you to know that you did him a favour," revealed Emily, and Spencer's fingers stilled.

Peering over at piano, Alison claimed, "He said he was free at last." She pinned her gaze to a distant Spencer, who purposely moved to be the furthest from Alison. "I know what you see in Toby, Spencer," she said, slowly bridging that gap stretched between them. "When he tells you the truth, you believe him. He said his time in juvie got him away from Jenna, and he was actually grateful to me." She announced to the room, "That's why I knew he wasn't A — and that was the last time I saw him."

"You're cold, here," should have been the last thing Toby had said to Alison at the gate to the Hastings' yard.

He gave her his cardigan. It barely kept her warm and it would do nothing but become a sponge when it eventually rained again, but the sentiment of it was nice enough. Toby was a nice boy, and Alison was set to meet a not very nice one next.

Meet me at the Kissing Rock.

She had sent it to Ian as Toby walked her out. As she parted from him, ready to start down Bridgewater Terrace, Alison spied a familiar silver car pull up outside of her house. Her brows knitted together, puzzled by the unscheduled appearance. Then, the feeling of being unsafe came too late.

"Are you okay?" Toby asked her, spying the vehicle.

"Yeah, yeah—" Alison forced on a false smile. "I'm fine. Go home, Toby," she instructed.

Each step brought on the discomfort. She got an ugly knot in her stomach that rippled rapidly the closer she got to the car. After Alison have gotten into the passenger seat, she asked, "Did we have a date that I forgot or did you forget I broke up with you?"

"You lied to me," Ezra replied. He was immediately sharp with her.

Realising that — along with the audacity of him showing up unannounced to where she lived because of her lies — Alison sought out an escape. With her hand on the door, she said, "I have somewhere to be."

"No!"

Ezra was stern with her — with his touch. His grip burned her flesh, him holding on so tightly to her arm as if he wanted to break her.

"You're not going anywhere."

•

Around a circle, they fit snugly. Coffee had been made, shared and drank partially. Halle warmed her palms over hers, the steam dampening them, as she writhed in her chair. Unease rose within her as she watched on but pretended like she wasn't.

Alison and Noel met in front of the cartoon woman who sang on the front window. They spoke quietly and away from the other girls, but the five could still hear their conversation.

"You've got cash, a passport and a plane ticket," Noel stated, as he handed over the envelope. "We need to leave for the airport in an hour, before yours and their faces are on every screen up and down the East Coast."

Softly, Alison looked up at him with her doe eyes. "Thank you."

It didn't nothing for Noel. Loyalty and secrets tied him to Alison, not attraction. Not love. Still, he did what he was told like a good, little pet.

To her friends gathered at the small table, Hanna lowly whispered, "You guys, we can't let her leave again."

"Then we have to put together the pieces," replied Spencer.

"Tonight," Emily reminded.

All Halle had wanted since the nightmares started, just after the summer, was coming true. She wanted to do this. The pieces were grasped in each of their hands, waiting to be slotted together. She wondered if this was when she'd at last get the bigger picture — have everything make sense to her. But as her head throbbed and her hands grew more clammy, Halle realised if they did figure it out, it would still be a mess.

Yet, when Halle opened her mother, hope fell out of it. "We have our pieces," she admitted, eyes on Spencer. "Time to own up."

Noel left through the front entrance, and Alison locked up after him. She turned to see five scared face looking directly at her in trepidation.

"Ali..." Aria's voice came out gentle, pleading with big eyes. "Look, I understand we're here to figure out who A is, but..." Torn part, Aria expressed a sigh, "I need to know if Ezra told me the truth or more lies with what happened with you."

It knocked Alison. She found it easy enough to answer, and yet, her tone sounded steeped in sadness. "Ezra seemed to get that everything I saw was made-up stuff," she told them, mainly the girl who asked. "But he believed me at first when I said that CeCe and I were roommates at UPenn, and it's the story we stuck with whenever we went out." She started retelling their first meet. "We hung out a lot at this pub near Hollis. His friend worked there," she said. "That's where we met."

"Snookers," Aria depressed.

"The Hart and Huntsman," Alison corrected regretfully, as it punctured Aria more to understand the weight of the lies through seasons of Ezra.

Their tongues clashed in an ugly, grotty fight of dominance. CeCe found yet another college boy to cheat on Alison's brother with, and Alison was forced to watch. Disgust crawled up her spin, distain in a bitter coating of her mouth at the frequent mockery CeCe made of Alison's family. However, it was only Alison who ever cared. Jason certainly didn't. So, Alison decided not to about him too and she looked for a boyish distraction to qualm her anger.

She found it further down the bar from her, a few empty stools away from her. He was unlike anybody in this drunken, rowdy and sweaty place. Dressed poorly in long shorts, a simple t-shirt (a whole in the shoulder) and beat-up sneakers, Alison knew for certain he wasn't her type. He wasn't Ian. He wasn't nearly as put-together or alluring or dangerous, but Alison could be all of those for him. In her boredom, she could play a little game.

Already, Alison had a plan. The older college student read a book. That would be her 'in'. She could out-lie every single person in this bar — probably in Rosewood — so of course she could pretend to be a reader for the night.

"Uh, excuse me," Alison caught the bartender as he went to pass her, "can I have a gin and tonic?"

"ID?" he asked her.

"Oh, sure." Alison put on an attractive chuckle as she collected it out of hr purse. "I suppose I should be flattered," she jested lightly. "My nana was still be ID-ed well into her late thirties," she said, and handed it over.

The young man, blond with shaven side, inspected it and nodded. "Alright, then," he said. "Single or double?"

"Double," Alison flirted, "tempt me."

Her seductive tone cause her target to lift his head and take notice of her. She was gorgeous, Alison knew, more gorgeous than all the other beauties in this bar. The bartender had noticed this too and he grinned widely, "Have you met my roommate and best friend in the whole world — Ezra?" The reader's head shot up, eyes large, while the bartender fixed Alison a drink. "He's really shy but he makes his bed every day."

Ezra went a brilliant red. "No, Hardy, don't," he said, embarrassed thoroughly. "Get out of here now, go clean glasses please." Then, to Alison, Ezra said, "I'm sorry about him, I don't wanna ruin your night with him being an idiot."

"You didn't ruin my night," Alison told him, trying to sound as earnest as she could while she ignored the alcoholic beverage that had been set down in front of her.

He blinked at that, nervous chuckling leaving him. "Oh, right. Well," he said, as he watched Hardy attended to another customer, "he can be pushy, and he's far more outgoing than I could ever be."

Shaking her head softly, Alison comforted, "It's fine, honestly. My friend's the same," she added with a pointed glance at the couple aggressively making out by the dart board.

With a look spared at it, Ezra said kindly, "I'm sorry about that." Then, while Alison went to sit forward to engage more, he returned to his book. His bartender friend sighed from at the other end of the bar.

Eager not to be side-lined or deemed less interesting than a boy in the bar with a book, Alison didn't give up. She pulled out her phone and researched the book that Ezra was reading. After a minute or two, Alison stored the necessary information to hold a convincing conversation. She wanted to appear as his equal, and Alison plotted her re-introduction.

"It's tragic, isn't it?"

Ezra raised his head to look at her, dazed with confusion. "Oh, sorry?"

"The book," Alison stated. She settled her head upon her hand, draped like a pretty slice of forbidden heaven, over the side of the bar. She enlarged her eyes, bluer in this light due to her heavy mascara. "It's one of my favourites."

His whole demeaner eased up to her. He was pleasantly surprised by her, a girl he had previously dismissed as just another sorority rush. Genuinely smiling, Ezra said, "I read it every summer."

"Yeah, I actually just finished it for the third time," claimed Alison perfectly. She allured him to her, making herself truly irresistible to her prey. "What's better than to read 'Tender Is The Night' while you're sunning in the French Rivera?" she suggested with an airy chuckle.

It amused him. "Do people still do that?"

"Do what?" she asked.

"Go sunning in the French Rivera?" he said.

A sparkling smile pulled at her red lips. "I don't know," she admitted, "I made it up."

At that, Ezra laughed. "So, you're a bit of a fabulist," he supposed of her, as he put his book aside; he was fully engaged by her.

Alison asked, "What does that mean?"

"Uh..." Ezra saw her lies come undone, and he said, "A teller of tales."

"Well," began Alison wickedly, "sometimes lies are more interesting than the truth."

With that lasting impression, from that very moment, their stares set on each other, Alison knew she had Ezra Fitz wrapped around her finger.

THUD.

A plastic cake covered clattered to the ground. It broke them from Alison's memory, disenchanted them from her words. The culprit, Hanna, danced around it, jumping back at the shock, and everyone else's head whipped up at the abrupt impact.

"Jeez, Hanna!" scolded Emily.

"Sorry," Hanna said, having picked up the cover. She had plated a handful of cookies from the display. She brought them to where her friends were, them having settled down again. This time, they took up in one of the lounge areas in the cafe. Alison and Aria sat on the left armchairs, the former's more angled; Halle was directly opposite Aria; Spencer, Emily and Hanna respectfully shared the long sofa.

"Aria," Spencer checked in on her, as Aria folded in on herself in that chair, "you okay?"

Quiet, barely audible, Aria said, "Yeah."

"Ezra's still looking for me, Aria," revealed Alison, and five sets of eyes shot to her. "It's not about the book now, it's something else. I don't know what, but I can feel there's a change."

"I know the feeling," Aria admitted.

"Wait—" Halle focused deeply on Alison, "what would you know about the book?"

"He said I reminded him of Holly Golightly in 'Breakfast At Tiffany's'," Alison said to them. "He wanted to write a story about me."

Impatient, Emily asked, "Do we need to hear the rest of this? Surely we should be focusing on That Night — not Ezra's book — now we have shorter deadline," she said.

Despite that, Alison continued, "I thought it was a compliment because Audrey Hepburn played her in the movie, but—" irritably, she sulked, "it turned out she was just a big phoney who couldn't even name her cat."

Sniffling, a distraught Aria spoke. "She didn't name her cat because she didn't she deserved to be loved." She paused, connecting it. "They were just a couple of poor no-name slobs."

Her gaze was glossy, and Alison had never sounded so sincere. "I'm sorry, Aria."

Aria held her stare, trembling. "For what?"

"Everything." Alison's blue eyes were watering now, spilling like the secrets were from her mouth. They stayed on Aria as she shared more with the group. "I think he thought of me as a project he could fix or save, like, he could look past why I acted the way I did and could see me. The real me," she implored. "I think some part of him still thinks he can save me."

Disbelief melded with the pain in Aria's chest. Her tone was sliced with indignation — at everything. "Do you even wanna be saved?"

Casting her gaze down, Alison imagined her small life was upon her lap. She looked down at it — at all the way she snaked through it — and cried. Her voice shook with tears. "I know how I treated people," she began, and Halle reached for Hanna's knee to squeeze once Hanna had put the plate of cookies down. Halle saw the distress on Hanna's face, and so did Alison when she decided to look up. "I deserved a lot of what I got," said Alison, meeker and more fragile than ever witnessed. "I think I deserve a second chance."

•

"Look," Ezra said sternly. Alison tried to hold back her shakes as his fingers dug further into her arm, his knuckles almost white. It didn't hurt her, but he thought it did. "I accepted it when you told me you weren't twenty-one, that you were turning eighteen this summer, but to lie to a guy twice when you're really fifteen."

Alison rolled her eyes. "Who told you?"

"You did," he said, and she clenched her jaw. "You gave me no choice when you blocked my number. So, I followed the lies, Ali, and they told me what you really are."

"What does it matter, anyway?" Alison bit. She yanked her arm free finally and glared furiously at him. "We broke up."

"It matters because I have a family family to protect," Ezra argued. His eyes were large, full of fire as he stared at her under his harshness. "I'm set to inherit a legacy after my grandfather passes and you would've put it all at stake if we took this any further. If anybody finds out that I'm twenty-three dating a fifteen-year-old—"

"What are so freaked out about?" Alison cut in snappily. "So what if I added a couple years, fifteen's not far off eighteen. I will be turning eighteen, just not this summer."

"God, help me, Alison, I actually like you," he said strongly. "I just don't wanna see you get hurt by the wrong person or get somebody else hurt instead. And that person could be me and my family if—"

"Nobody's gonna find out, Ezra," Alison snapped as she interrupted him again. "We never took anything further because we broke up! We're not together anymore! I stopped caring about who you are and what you could give me!" She yelled at him. "I'm over you!"

"You're over me?!" he shouted madly. "You're over me? You're ending things with me? No," Ezra refused. "I should be the one ending it with you, I should be the one leaving you because all your lies! I'm the adult, you're the child — I'm leaving you—!"

"Then be one and leave!" she screamed at him, her throat pink and strained.

Disgust clouded his eyes, and he turned to begging, "I gave you everything, Alison. I helped you. I took you to New York and showed you what you could only dream of."

"Yeah, and then I got bored, Ezra," she maintained her lie. "I got bored of you — of the version of you that you pretended to me when I wanted the real one. I wanted Fitzgerald, not Fitz," she spat. "And I swear to god if you don't let me out of this car right now or if you ever show up at my house again, I'll make sure everyone knows a Fitzgerald was screwing a fifteen-year-old the year before he got his masters!"

With that, Ezra dropped it. He dropped her, and Alison won. At last, she was released. Quickly, she slid out of his car, gathered up her courage and shut the door. "Hey," she called him back to her, bending down so that she spoke directly to his face through the open window. "If you ever get your book publish," she said, smirking, "you better spell my name right."

•

Dirt shifted beneath her sweaty palm, the purple 'ALISON' bracelet around her wrist. It was imbedded under her nails. Smirking, she giggled out loud when she reached for the camera. She pulled herself up, her clothes messed up from rolling around on the ground with Ian.

He stood away from her. Ian was busy putting on his jacket before he bid her goodbye. They were standing when he did that — him at the centre of the film's focus while Alison stayed out of it. They kissed quick but it wasn't sweet, and Alison said, "Thanks for meeting me."

Ian flashed her a smile. He seemed too boyish after he got what he wanted. Alison acted similarly also when she got her way. But she wanted more. She wanted revenge as well.

Alison clipped the viewfinder shut, not yet satisfied by how she'd end things. "Which do you prefer?"

Ian turned to her. "Prefer?"

"Which do you prefer — me on a bed or me in the dirt?" Alison posed to him, aggressively flirting. "Personally, I think it's a nice, little addition to your home movies. Sorry again," she acted sincere, "I don't know how they got deleted."

"I noticed you helped yourself to them," Ian remembered. "You stole a USB from my hotel room."

"Well, I helped your expand your collection," she countered. "I didn't realise how big it was — and all the people you spy on... Wow, I bet you'd make a killing."

He laughed her off and replied, "Blackmail isn't really my thing."

"Yeah, but it's mine," Alison proclaimed, her sweet angelic act now sinister. "I heard your little promise to Melissa, Ian. How you'd stay away from me," she reminded him. "Is this staying away?"

"I said what I said to keep her in line," Ian claimed, swallowing thickly. "You don't need to tell her."

"No, I don't," hummed Alison, and she smiled at his breath of relief. She enjoyed ripping it from him. Her palm held the weight of the camera. "but I can show her," she threatened. "I can show everyone."

His face stiffened. Ian charged at her fast, in a maddening fury. "Listen—" he snatched the camera from her, violence at his core, "You are not gonna blackmail me into staying with you."

"That's hilarious," said Alison, wickedly hissing. "This isn't just about you. Someone's threatening me, and you and your little camera-club are gonna help me figure it out who. You're gonna put your dirty, perverted minions to good use, and you're gonna find out who the hell it is because if you don't, I've made a copy of every single video on your laptop and you'll all be buying your soap on a rope!"

Ian's face grew purple, protruding, overripened with anger. "You have no idea..." He was pointing at her, warning a girl who heeded none, "how much trouble you're gonna be in if you show these videos to anyone." He saw her amused mouth twitch. "Look at me!" He raised his voice, hoping he'd scare her. "There are things on here that could bring everybody down — including your family."

"The only thing that can bring down my family is the house, and I won't let that happen," Alison challenged him back dangerously. "So you better go back to your posse of pervs and tell them they work for me now."

Even now, it brought amusement to Alison's lip. "Ian didn't see me as a threat the way Melissa did," she said. "He just didn't know me that well. Nobody did. That's how we got here. Still," she chuckled, "he was more freaked out than I thought he was gonna be. I mean, he took off out of there like a plucked peacock. You know what men are like when you break their favourite toy," she lectured. "Once the sexiness is gone, well, it's gone, you're now a threat."

"But the video?" asked Emily. "Of you and Ian at the Kissing Rock, were you just—?"

"Lying, acting," Alison inserted over her. "It was both." She reminded them, "Like I said, I had a plan."

Tired of the circles, Halle questioned it, "What plan?"

Holding her chin high, Alison confessed, "There was a plan in place for That Night, before what happened  happened, before I managed to get all the videos. I wanted to run away," she said, her friends gasped. "That was the plan. I'd go missing for a while and it would give me the chance to finally get one step ahead of A... And," she paused, "I'd take NAT down with me."

"What does that mean?" Hanna asked her curiously.

"I means, for months, I was planning on setting them up as the prime suspects," Alison admitted truthfully. "And by time I sussed out who A was and came back, yes — they'd be let go, but those videos would be out there. People would know what they did," she said. "I filmed that video with Ian That Night for one reason, I knew he wouldn't delete it because I had already deleted the others. He's a trophy hunter, he'd never get rid of evidence," she claimed. "And you guys know better than anyone how bad it looked when I didn't get up."

"But you did," Hanna defended.

"Yeah, but it gives Ian motive," Alison responded. She launched into her plan, "That same week, I had gone to Georgia with the intention of getting my nana to write Jason out of her will — that gave him motive for wanting me dead, too." A glance was spared to Halle. "You weren't the only one I wanted to punish. And then there was Garrett Reynolds," she sighed. "He was the most pathetic out of the bunch, and I guessed he'd go down by association, really. The same with Jenna and Melissa. But you know what was really funny?" Her laugh rang out. "He walked right into his own set-up, with Jenna at his side too."

The ground was dug up for tomorrow. The turf had been stripped and new soil had been perfectly laid the day before; the workers were coming early, in a few short hours, to pour the concrete where Alison's mother wanted a gazebo built in the year. It was for anniversary present from Kenneth DiLaurentis. Rather than more jewellery or give his wife affection by spending more than an evening meal with her, he'd paid for a gazebo. Jessica had always wanted one to sit in when the weather got warmer, to have her rose bushes grow all around and up it; she'd sit there with homemade lemonade and enjoy the weather while it lasted.

Jenna Marshall and Garrett Reynolds couldn't appreciate the gift as they rushed out of the house. They were coming out of the back door, from the kitchen. Gripping on as tight as she could to Garrett's arm, Jenna fretted, "We shouldn't leave those two together, Garrett, we can't trust them."

"There's nothing they can do to us without screwing up everything for themselves," Garrett replied, much more collected as they hurried across the lawn.

"I thought I heard animal noises," Alison interrupted them boldly. She made her presence know, having lingered and hidden behind one of the large trees in her yard. She focused on Jenna, meeting her eyes even though Jenna couldn't meet hers. "You've got a really bad memory." She extended out her arm, teasing as she brushed a clueless Jenna's hair from her face. "I told you what would happen if you came back—"

Jenna slapped the hand away from her, glowering from behind those daunting, black shades. The action made Alison chuckle. It amused her to still see the fight left in Jenna even after what Alison stole from her. Yet, Jenna loathed it. She hated the taunts and the snide giggles and the patronising jeers that Alison gave her, so she lashed out. She came at Alison with her nails. Furiously, she didn't just want to blind Alison back, she wanted to scratch Alison's eyes completely out.

A gasp escaped Alison, but she was took quick for Jenna. She dodged out of the way before the sharp nail could scrape her, and Alison laughed at her yet again.

This time, Garrett stepped in. His finger ended up right in front of Alison's face as a warning. "Hey, stop that," he said in a way that he tried to make himself seem more dangerous than he actually was.

It also made Alison laugh. "Oh, just go back to your camera," she said. "I'm guessing Ian told you already — that you work for me. Must suck, Jenna," she teased the blind girl. "To lose your sight and your club to me."

It happened in a flash. Jenna's clawed hand darted out and squeezed tightly at Alison's flesh. She heard Alison's intake of air, wincing, as Jenna dug crescent moons in her arms. It pricked with blood. A threat that Alison didn't take kindly to. So, the blonde shoved Jenna back.

"You're gonna pay for that!"

They both went at each other. Scratching and grunting, slashing at another's skin as Garrett tried to break them up. "Alison!" he said. "Alison!" Garrett pulled the girls apart. His firm hand pushed Alison back by her shoulder. "Get the hell outta here."

Alison argued with him, "This is my backyard."

"Shut her up," ordered Jenna, barking orders at her boyfriend like he was her puppet.

"You shut up," Alison spat at her. With all her strength, she shoved her palms at Jenna and watched at the blind girl yelped as she tripped backwards.

"Hey!" Garrett shouted. He hurried to help his girlfriend, who flailed on the wet deckchair left out while it rained, by holding Alison back from doing much worse. When he was sure that all Alison wanted to do was giggle at how defenceless Jenna had become in just a mere month, Garrett went to help Jenna to her feet. "Jenna!" he panicked, just as his girlfriend launched up, brandishing a hockey stick at the other girl. He had a hold on it. "Jenna," he said, and snatched it from her.

With a gift for sensing — and bringing out — the worst of tempers in people, Alison dared to poke the bear. "What's a matter? Didn't find what you were looking for in my bedroom?"

Jenna protected herself by hiding behind Garrett's back, but her words remained firmly on offence. "Do something!" she urged.

Shakily, Garrett raised the hockey stick up. Alison let out a laugh, humoured by his unthreatening stance. Yet, when Garrett closed in on her, backing her up against the tree, so close that the rough bark scraped at her skin, Alison dropped her smile. He came at her with it.

Suddenly, Alison dropped.

BANG.

Jenna screamed.

BANG.

BANG.

Jenna clutched at her stomach. Her mouth was a agar. She heard something drop to the grass, mistaking it for Alison. The horror that consumed her shocked her to the core. He had done it. He had killed Alison. Her heavy pants obscured all else from around her, and Jenna asked, "Is she dead?"

Perched at the foot of the trunk, pressed up against it, Alison looked up at Garrett. She silenced her breathing as she brought a finger up to her lips. Without a word, she told him this was a secret. Her eyes darkened, steady as he did exactly what he was told like a good, little dog.

"Garrett?" Jenna asked. She freaked, "Is she dead?"

Garrett tossed the length of the broken hockey stick down. He didn't know why he did it — why he listened — but he did. Strangely, he trusted Alison's next more. He shouldn't have, but he did. He grabbed at Jenna's hand and pulled her.

"I took care of it," he said. "Let's go. Come on, let's go," Garrett urged, hurrying to drag her away from the tree.

When he had, when they were gone, Alison exhaled. She let out a breath, relieved it was over. With her calm hand, she collected up the item that had dropped to the ground. The splintered head to the hockey stick was held in her palm. Upon it, 'HASTINGS' and she smiled.

It left Halle first, "Jenna really thought you were dead all that time?"

Alison scoffed, "I wasn't exactly counting on her being such a hateful bitch as to actually want me dead. She held out with Garrett longer than I ever expected with me gone," she commented.

"You blinded her," Aria feebly said from the armchair. "She had every reason to want you dead."

"Did she?" snapped Alison. "Can I remind you she was abusing Toby back then? I did the world a solid by blinding her, trust me. Or trust Toby," she cruelly added.

"You didn't know that then," Spencer correctly accused, and Alison's hot stare whipped to her. "The only reason Toby took the blame for us is because you threatened him — you thought it was him abusing Jenna."

"Then it was a happy accident, Spencer," Alison carelessly put. "Karma came for Jenna."

Hanna dared to retort, "Does that mean it came for you?"

Alison narrowed her eyes into thin slits. "You can say that." She said, "You can also say it came for you. All of you. Because of That Night and your little prank, A had a uniform and a mission." She grew grave. "To keep you submissive to her and to keep me dead."

Lowly, Emily admitted, "It felt like A never wanted us to forget you."

"Yeah," Halle agreed. "We could never move on."

"A did the same to me," Alison returned. "What happened That Night connects not only us but it connects us to A, too." She raised her gaze to them. "Like I told Hanna, all of you combined know more about what happened than you think." Furthermore, she mentioned, "You each have your pieces, as well as others' that you've collected, this is the first time we're all putting them together."

Nervous, Spencer asked, "So, which of us is first?"

"You, Spencer," said Alison in ease. "After I left Ian at the Kissing Rock, before I got caught up with everything and everybody else, I went back to the barn," she stated. "But you were waiting up for me, Spencer."

"Can you keep your voice down?" Spencer pleaded with Alison. They stood in her kitchen, a metre between them, her voice lowered due to the scale of their arguments.

"Why?" chided Alison, arms folded. "Nobody's home."

"Yeah, but Melissa could come home any minute," Spencer pleaded desperately.

"Good." Alison's expression was hardened, deadly as she glared at the girl across from her. "I want her to."

"Why are you making me do this?" asked Spencer, utterly baffled by the dedication that Alison had clutched to all summer. "Why do you care if she knows?"

"I'm not making you do anything, Spencer, I'm telling you—" Alison's top lip snarled as she stepped closer, "by tomorrow morning, Melissa will know everything and there's nothing you can do about it except let her hear it from you first."

"Fine," caved Spencer. Tear clung to her bottom lashes. "I'll tell her. You win," she said. "But this is it," she stated firmly. "Because I am sick of your games." She broke, ready to let out all her cries. "We all are—"

Alison caught Spencer's forearm in the flee. She whirled Spencer back around, her gasping as Alison glared at her, burning holes in her face as Alison imagined Spencer melting. "Trying to get me voted off the island? It won't work."

Spencer didn't back down. "Well, I don't think you'll have much of a choice."

As Spencer put her back to Alison, Alison called her back with a sneer. "I made you, Spencer," she said disgustingly, causing a mortified Spencer to face her again. "I made all of you. Before me, you were just some goody-goody in plaid who did whatever the hell mommy and daddy told her to."

Repulsed, Spencer refused to let her tears fall. She showed Alison defiance as she said, "You are so full of yourself. You think just because you brought us together, you can treat us like puppets?"

Holding her fiery gaze, Alison simply responded with, "But you are. Don't you see that?" She got up in Spencer's space, threatening her. "You don't exist without me."

"Really, Ali?" Spencer didn't waver the way she knew Alison wanted her to. "Then, tell me this," she requested, eyes hard and focused now. "What is a leader without any followers? Because it seems to  be the question isn't whether we will exist without you," she scornfully put, "but whether you will exist without us. And as far as I'm concerned, you are dead to me already!"

Unflinching, Alison held out. Her furious glare pinned Spencer to the spot, craving to burn her at the stake as a traitor but realised that Spencer was the one doing it to her. They all were. Halle was next, and she and Spencer had the power and sway to make Aria, Emily and Hanna stand up for themselves and leave Alison too. Alison had to leave first.

So, she did.

Alison stormed out of the house, slamming the door shut. It shook as it banged close. Spencer gasped thinking the glass might shatter. Fuelled with hate herself, Spencer decided to walk off too. She went to steam upstairs, cry or scream into her pillow to let it all out, but then she hesitated. She stopped on the second stair and stilled. Why should she have to hold back when Alison never did?

It wasn't over.

It never would be until Alison stopped.

Alison had to be stopped, and Spencer was the one who was going to do it.

Spencer lurked forward, tense in every fibre of her rigid body. Her eyes were frightened. "I..." she gulped. "I remember the fight in the kitchen, after that... I remember bits and pieces, but I'm not sure what's real and what I've made up."

Alison caved to easing the discomfort for the pleading girl in front of her. "I was pushing all summer for you to tell Melissa about Ian because... I wanted to break them up again." Honestly, she offered, "I thought Ian actually liked me and that Melissa — and you were in the way."

"Which was the fight," Spencer pressed, fixated. Her voice wavered, "And it got ugly."

A painful breath was released from Alison, and she said, "It's like you bottled up every fight we ever had and then popped your top."

Strained thoroughly, Spencer verged on tears as she defended, "I though that were still threatening me. I mean, I told you that I would tell Melissa the truth."

"And I told you to forget it," Alison fought just as distraught, "but you were holding onto it like a dog with a bone."

Lightning struck. Spencer stormed out of the Hastings' kitchen and through the overgrown pathway between the houses to end up in Alison's backyard chasing after the blonde in an almighty fury. "Hey!" Spencer yelled to the back of the girl in the yellow, ruffled top. "Hey! This conversation isn't over!"

Alison whipped around, scowling, just as a flash of white cracked across the sky. "It is over, Spencer," Alison seethed, by the wooden table the construction workers had left by the open earth where the gazebo would soon be erected, "and so are we."

At the cruel sight of Alison's back put to her again, Spencer went livid. "Don't you walk away from me." Desperate for Alison to see her seriously, Spencer scanned for help. She landed on the wheelbarrow and briskly snatched up the shovel from inside of it, striking it up as a threat. "Damn it, Ali — I said, stop!" she screeched.

It served to grab Alison's attention, but Alison merely looked at the girl wielding the shovel with pity. Alison looked at Spencer like she was pathetic. She told her as much, "You're way out of your league, Spencer."

Settling in, Spencer gripped harder at the shovel. "Am I?" she asked over the growling storm. Her head ticked to the side. "You sure about that?"

Finally, Alison's gaze connected with the shovel. Her eyes flicked behind Spencer; then, with a nervous gulp, returned to Spencer with the makeshift weapon. "Why don't you put that thing down before you hurt yourself?"

For a second, when lightning clapped above, Spencer recognised fear on Alison's face. She was convinced that she had made Alison afraid. Spencer held her breath and brought the shovel up higher just as lightning flashed a second time and Alison's fear was gone.

As she took a step, Spencer felt her ankle roll. It caved in and she tripped. Spencer tumbled to the floor, crashing, causing something to fly out of her trousers. She hadn't noticed at first, neither had Alison. The blonde simply move to help her, hands out carefully as Spencer rose. When she did, that was when they both saw the orange bottle. Danger flashed before Spencer and she tried her hardest to snatch at it before Alison did, but she failed.

Alison's reflexes were better, more finely tuned, less sluggish. She even managed to pull it away when Spencer attempted to grab it from her. Alison wasn't letting go, not until she knew exactly what power she now had over Spencer as she inspected the label. It stunned her when she saw it, and Alison looked up at her in shock. "Are you speeding?"

Clarity shadowed over Spencer. Any chance she had of stopping Alison tonight — or ever — vanished when her pill bottle fell out of her pocket. The tears soon followed. Spencer knew her life was over when Alison had asked her than one question and depression hung oddly like a noose around Spencer's neck with it.

She committed herself to it. Her cheeks were already wet; she had already been crying but didn't know it. At that, Spencer wiped her face and started walking away from her old friend, sadly dragging the shovel behind her.

"Spencer," Alison said. She kept after the girl. "Spencer!" She had to hurry her steps to catch up, chasing down the left side of her house to reach the front. "Spencer... Spencer, wait—!"

"What?!" Spencer cried over her. The shovel ceased its scratching at the gravel and dirt, as Spencer turned to forceful begging. "Please don't tell anybody. Please, look, I'll do anything, okay? I'll get down on my hands and knees—" she went to do it, "I'll beg you if that's what you want me to do. Please!"

Alison held Spencer up to keep her crashing to the ground. "Stop," she said. There were right outside of her house, opposite the front porch, as Alison sternly instructed, "Spencer, look at me." Lightning struck over them. "Don't take any more of these tonight, okay? And never take them with alcohol. You could've killed yourself tonight if you weren't careful, I could've—" she cut herself off, dreading the severely wrong reaction that could have happened with amphetamines, tequila and sedatives.

Spencer's voice was hoarse as she whispered, "If my parents find out—"

"They won't," cut in Alison. She was holding onto Spencer still. "It'll be our secret."

Sniffling, Spencer replied, "Thank you."

"That's what friends are for," Alison told her, smiling if only for a second before the weight of this crashed upon them and time passed her by. Alison still had so much left to do. This was a distraction she needed to hurry through quickly. "Go back and just sleep it off, okay?

After she had recalled how Spencer dragged the shovel all the way down the road, Alison elaborated for them, "When I saw the pills, I put it together. You weren't asleep because you were wired. I wanted to walk you home, but I couldn't." She fiddled with her hands uncomfortably. "I saw the light in my room and I knew it was Ian. I realised he didn't take nicely to my threat. I figured he sent out a message to his club to be there, which explains what Jenna and Garrett were doing in my backyard." She said, "I was waiting for CeCe, so I decided to monitor the traffic from my house. I was killing time because I knew they'd use the back door. That's when I saw Jenna and Garrett."

"Did you really push her?" Emily asked, from in the middle of Spencer and Hanna. Her limbs were huddled closer for warmth, almost folded completely in on herself.

"It was an accident," Alison explained. "She came at me first. I defended myself, I didn't ever mean to push her." She sighed, "And after that, there was just one more person I needed to see." Her gaze lifted to her left, to the armchair next to hers. "Your dad, Aria."

He started it off badly. Byron Montgomery said, "I didn't bring the money."

"Well, then we both know how this is gonna end," Alison warned him.

"You know how much that'll hurt Aria if you make that call," Byron returned softly. He searched for the good friend that he swore his daughter would've picked for herself. "And I don't think you're that horrible of a person."

"Well, then, you really don't know me that well," Alison said sneering at him.  She glared at him furiously. "I'm not the one who makes people do these things, but if you don't pay for your mistakes, how can you become a better person?"

He stepped forward. "You say all these grown-up things, but you're still a child."

"Don't kid yourself—" Alison deepened her voice with her threat, "you know what I'm capable of."

A rustling sounded from the left of the house. The two turned their heads to look but found nothing but bushes. Alison wondered if it was CeCe — if she was early — and used it to slip to her next scorned remark. She said to her friend's dad, "I may be a child but I can easily be the child who ruins your life."

"No," Byron said. "You don't have that power. I ruined my life when I disrespect my wife and asked my daughter to lie about it. I'm telling Ella in the morning."

"I wouldn't do that," Alison said. "Hold on to your secret, it might play in your favour."

Byron looked back her, confusion. His brows furrowed at her words, entangling with double-meanings like the sword Aliso fought with. She gave more of herself away with her threats than she ever realises, but he wasn't smart enough to decipher it. So, he gave up.

"You're not getting that money, Alison," he said.

"Last chance to save yourself!" said Alison, loudly to be heard over the storm that was coming for her.

Yet, this was a man resigned to his choice. His actions brought him; it was only right that he should be the one to sort it. "Yes, it it," he told her.

Again, he put his back to her walk away. It enraged Alison. She screamed at him, "You made your bed, Mr Montgomery!"

At her refusal to let go, Byron turned around. He went to speak, but his stare caught sight of the back door opening. From the DiLaurentis house emerged Melissa Hastings. She was distracted by her phone, on a call, and hadn't seen either of them yet.

"What do I have to do?" Melissa ranted. "Call 9-1-1 to get your attention?"

With that, Byron left Alison alone in her own backyard. He gathered it was time to leave, and Alison turned cold as he walked away from her.

"I didn't think Byron was A," started Alison despite the tears from Aria, "but I was counting on that money from him for my safety net. Then—" she looked to Spencer, "there was Melissa."

Spencer's eyes blew wide open. "Melissa?"

It shocked them all, and Alison knew it. Still, she stayed steady as she coached them through the rest of her story. "After she came out of my house, I talked to her. She was looking for me for most of the night." Her eyes went to the girl in the middle. "She had seen us fight, Spencer."

"So did your mom," Spencer put.

"And CeCe," Hanna added.

Aria admitted, "And me."

She broke through the sleep barrier. Her urge to pee persisted until it disturbed Aria awake. The barn was cold. A crash of lightning flashed. It startled her up, surprised to have not only heard but seen it. The barn doors were open, which puzzled her further especially when she realised that the space to the right of her was absence of Spencer and the armchair was gone of Alison.

"Hmm, Halle?" she nudged the cheerleader next to her, to her left. "Halle?" she whispered as not to wake anybody else.

A couple grumbled groans emitted from Halle's throat and she tossed a dismissive hand up, slapping Aria way.

"Hal," she said, "I need to use the bathroom, Ali and Spencer are missing."

Another groan left Halle, and she turned over onto her side to ignore the person who tried to rouse her too early from her sleep.  So, Aria decided to leave alone. She braved the brittle night, dithering in her grey shirt as she crossed the Hastings' yard.

She stepped up onto the porch. Her hand touched her handle but froze when she heard the yelling.

"—You are dead to me already!"

Inside, a back and forth between Spencer and Alison had reached it heated peak. It shocked Aria to hear such hate spill out of Spencer's mouth. Aria's hand flew to her mouth. It remained there as she heard the next door rip open, smothering her breath while she pressed herself flush to the ivy to hide. Alison steamed past her, heading for pathway between houses. Aria went to follow — to ponder what the argument was about — when the door opened and slammed shut for a second time, and then Spencer came whipping around the corner as well.

It was better to leave, Aria told herself, she needed to leave it. This wasn't her problem nor her fight to have out with Alison. So, quickly, Aria snuck inside the house to use the bathroom. She made it to the staircase, the fourth step creaking under her weight, when she heard a door close from inside the house.

"—Answer your phone, you coward," came Melissa's testy voice. She was on the phone, raving at someone, to someone who wasn't answering her calls. "I was an idiot to have trusted Ian and now Alison's involved Spencer, so—" She scoffed, "if you're not gonna pick up your phone, if you're just gonna ignore me, Darren, I'm talking care of it myself. I'm going to find Alison and force her to keep her freaking mouth shut."

Aria froze on the step. Her foot hovered over the fifth step. Melissa didn't notice her on the staircase, not as she charged through into the kitchen, not as stormed out of the house. Aria stayed there until the door slammed door and her whole body shook.

"So, wait," Emily gathered, "was it you that Jason saw with Melissa in the yard?"

"It must've been," Alison reasoned, with a shrug. "CeCe was there That Night, but I don't think she talked to Melissa. If she did, CeCe never told me about it."

"CeCe said you called her," Emily recalled.

"I did," confirmed Alison. "But CeCe was already meant to be there, she was the last person I was set to meet."

"What happened next?" Hanna asked, edging forward. "After your saw Mr Montgomery?"

"Then I went back to the barn and waited for another text," Alison told them simply. "I realised, for some reason, CeCe was running late for when we were meant to leave."

She made the deckchair her last throne. From there, she watched her friends sleep. Spencer had knocked herself out in the armchair, her left cheek smushed to its leather as she slept more soundly than anybody else in the room. Surveying her closely, Alison wondered if this was the most — or the best — Spencer had slept since she had started taking those pills. It certainly explained the blackout tantrums Spencer threw at Melissa regularly, and Ian was the obvious reason for it.

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

I'm ready if you are.
From: CeCe

"It was my cue to leave," Alison observed. "I didn't want to leave you guys without saying goodbye, but... Putting space between me and you meant putting space between me and A. I knew you'd forgive me and everything I did That Summer when I came back, it seemed like a perfect plan," she said. "I wanted to win, I wanted to silence A, so I went home and..." She paled. "That's when it happened. It's when I was hit."

"You were hit That Night?" gasped Hanna, eyes welling up.

Alison appeared tortured as she glanced to Halle. "I was," she whispered, "it was with a rock."

"Did—" Spencer lost her voice, "did I do it?"

"It wasn't you, Spencer," Alison mumbled as not to cry herself. "You were sound asleep when I left the barn."

Now, Spencer was sobbing. "Yeah, but..." Her voice spread thin, racked through with tears desperate to come out. "That doesn't mean that I didn't hurt that other girl."

Strongly, Aria darted up to the edge of her seat and grasped at Spencer. "You're not listening, Spence." She had tears blurring her vision as she made certain to tell her friend, stronger than ever before, "You went back to sleep."

A tear drop rolled down her cheek; realisation was slow to dawn on Spencer, so she asked for clarification. "I didn't do it?"

Holding Spencer's teary gaze, Alison shook her head.

Spencer broke down into a sob. She crashed into Emily's shoulder, the other girl hugged her crying from to hers tightly. As she held onto Spencer, Emily asked, "But Halle saw who did?"

Beside her was cold again, suddenly. The shared blanket had been throw moreover, exposing a slither of Halle's arm to the harsh wind. It startled her awake. Her eyes blinked several times. Sleep blocked her vision and her tiredness caused the shape in the bar's doorway to blur. Halle could only make out a glimpse of colour leave — a shapeless figure as it ghosted out of the barn.

The cold bit at her skin and nipped at her cheeks until they stung. It was raining when she fell asleep, but it had since stopped. The storm above ceased at long last. It still hung in the air and carried a chill up Halle's spine. Her feet were walking down the familiar path, out of the Hasting's back gate, past her house and round the dip in the road.

She followed a friend, who followed another friend. Halle blinked and glimpsed the yellow, riffle top ahead of the two of them. Pink. The pink was obscured by the night, nestled among messy, dark brown hair. The belt she wore caught Halle's eyes, dazzling her once of twice.

CRUNCH.

The rock crashed into Alison's skull, and her body dropped to the ground with a thud. Her bloody head rolled back and a soft whimper voiced from the perpetrator. Skin was slashed, bone crushed. A squeak of shock left her, whimpering again in realisation of what she had done, and the cry that burst out.

Halle gasped, and the girl with the rock turned. Alison's blood coated the back of it , revealing it to Halle as it tumbled from the hand that hit Alison. Finally, a pair of leaky green eyes finally stared at Halle.

"I'm sorry," said the terrified girl. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry," came the same whimpering, scared voice opposite Halle. She was in the armchair opposite, tears streaming down her face as she took in the horror upon Halle's brain became unfogged and her vision unspotted.

The figure was facing her. Their features were clear to Halle, including the pink streaks they shared. "I'm sorry."

Aria tearfully shed, "I'm sorry!" She choked it, "I'm so sorry!"

Halle felt a hand around her throat. It tightened, stopping her from speaking. All she could do was stare back at Aria as the voices blended seamlessly together. The memory was forming, parts stretched to connect them, crackling as it all fell into place. Pink connected the two of them indefinitely. It was a secret they shared and dyed away with That Summer when neither revealed it to each other.

"I didn't know, I didn't mean to," Aria sobbed. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking how the shocked, water-filled eyes that stared at her while she came to terms with her confession.

The words were the same as That Night.

"I'm sorry— I didn't mean to—I didn't mean to, Halle," Aria poured out. "It just happened—Oh, my god." It hit Aria immediately. She was winded as she stumbled backwards, tripping. "Aggh!" she screamed out, but stayed on her feet. "Oh, god — Oh, my god, what have I done? What have I done?"

"Aria," said Halle softly. She was softer than she had ever been with Aria. Her palms were up, defenceless. "Aria, please, you need to listen to me right now, okay? Please, let me sort this."

"I hit her," cried Aria. "I hit her, I can't believe I hit her."

"Yeah, you hit her," Halle confirmed. She crouched down beside Alison, over her limp body. Blood had begun to congeal at the point of impact. Halle's brain replayed the deafening crunch Alison's skull made was the rock came down.

"Oh, my god — Oh, my god," Aria's heightened panic overwhelmed her. She continued to back up, terrified at what she had done. "Oh, my god, I killed her," she uttered out. "I killed Ali."

With her two fingers to Alison's neck, Halle begged for it not to be true. She closed her eyes during Aria's meltdown and prayed for it not to be true. But Halle couldn't find one. She couldn't find a pulse. She moved her fingers over half an inch and still couldn't find one.

"I'm gonna go to jail," said Aria, crying. "I'm gonna go to jail, I'm gonna— My life is over, I can't— What have I done?" She let out an almighty sob, breaking down on the steps of the DiLaurentis' porch. "What have I done?!"

Halle didn't know why she did it. She had no reason to. A part of her knew she should've ran inside to grab help or call for an ambulance, and yet, she froze up. She ran cold, and Aria was crying hysterically, so Halle did what she did best.

She lied.

"There's a pulse," Halle told Aria, "I found a pulse."

Aria peeked out from behind her arms, She had burrowed herself into a small, trying to make herself as small or invisible as possible. "She's alive?" she squeaked.

"She's alive," Halle lied to her.

"Oh, my god, she's alive," Aria said, at first relieve. "What do we do? Do we call 9-1-1? Do we—?" Then, the dread slapped her. "Oh, my god, she's gonna kill me. Ali's gonna kill me."

"She's not gonna kill you," Halle said with a heavy sigh. She brushed her curls from her face, fretting about everything. There was no pulse, she told herself, she couldn't find a pulse. Halle shut her eyes and tried to figure out what her next move should be. Her mind race, overheating. "She's just—" Alison would kill her. Alison would kill Aria. "Just, this never happened, okay?!"

Her exclamation scared Aria. She looked at Halle with startled, deer-in-the-headlights eyes. "Wh—What?" she stammered, her voice thin and almost lost.

"This never happened," Halle repeated, more seriously now. "Aria—" Halle rushed over to her and seized up her hands, "this never happened," she said. "You never left the barn, you never followed Ali, you never picked up that—" she stopped and swallowed down painfully, "rock. Okay?"

"No, no—" Aria was shaking her head adamantly, tears flying from off her cheeks. "No, I hit her, I hit Alison." She whispered, "I hurt her, we need to call an ambulance to help her."

"No." Halle remained firm. If Aria called an ambulance, Aria was leaving this sleepover in handcuffs. If the police searched their houses, they'd find plans for The Prank. All of them — all five — would be shipped off to a juvenile detention centre; they'd be guilty. "No, listen," she said. "Here's what's gonna happen — you go back to the barn and you go to sleep, or pretend to sleep until I get there, okay? I'm gonna fix it—"

Aria cut in, "How?"

"I—ugh, I just am, okay?" Halle sighed, gaining on exasperation. She was tired, exhaustion beyond compare and her head throbbed worse than ever, but determination spurred Halle along. "I can fix this," she vowed. "Look, Ali's still gotta a pulse—" she waved her hand back at the body, "I'll clean her up and I'll sort it."

"She's never gonna forgive me," wept Aria. "She's never gonna— You might as well hit me with that rock right now because she'll kill me." She gasped, absolutely petrified, "She'll kill me, Halle."

"Nobody is killing anybody, okay? No one's dead," Halle lied through her back teeth. "Just, go back to the barn and wait for me."

"Wait for you?" Aria was utterly bereaved  at what Halle was asking of her to do. "What are you gonna do?" she asked.

"I'm gonna fix it — like I said," Halle told her, a reassuring smile coming and going in a blink. "Like I promised." She said, "Aria, go, I'll fix it for you."

"Are you—?"

"Aria," Halle rushed her. "It was me, okay? I'm the one who hit her with the rock, you never left the barn."

"But, I—" Aria started to cry. "I can't let you do this, Alison will kill you."

"I can handle Alison," Halle promised. "I'm the one who hit it, okay? You have to stick to that, you never left the barn."

"I'm so sorry." Shaking her head, Aria let more tears fall. "I'm so sorry, Halle."

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Halle pulled Aria for a hug. Her arms had the tendency to tighten around Aria. "Shhh, it's fine," Halle comforted her gently. "It's just a scare, you scared her that's all. I can take care of it, but you can't." Pulling away, Halle looked Aria in her watery eyes and directed, "Go back, go back to the barn and act like nothing happened." Her tone grew more deadly. "This never happened."

Halle watched on. Aria wiped at her drenched face and sniffled loudly as the ran her arm under her nose. She choked out yet another sob as she stumbled across the yard; Halle's stare never left Aria's frame as it got further and further away until Aria was finally gone, and what Halle had to deal with a dead girl in a yellow top.

Aria choked out, coughing and spluttering to get through it. "I—I thought it wasn't real. I didn't think it was real and—and wh—when they said it was a shovel that killed her — killed Alison," she panicked. "I thought— it was just my head — it was in my head. I'm so sorry, Halle, I'm so sorry," she pleaded desperately. "I tried to—I tried to tell you, I tried to tell you so many times but—" she gasped for air through her distressed sobs, "I didn't know how! I didn't know what I was doing!"

"You hit her?" Hanna quietly asked, teary eyed.

She dropped her stare to her lap, tears spilling to soak her jeans. Aria's whole body shook with an sharp influx of new, hot tears. "I didn't mean to, I don't know what happened. But That Night, I couldn't see past my own anger. She was all alone in the yard and the rock was right there and— it—it all happened so fast."

Distraught, as if she was staring at a stranger, Emily asked, "You hated Ali that much? Enough to kill her?"

"When I hit her, all I could hear was Alison berating me," Aria admitted, "using me and my family, every awful thing she had ever said to me all at once. It came to me all at once and I couldn't see straight— I couldn't think straight. It was like my body was on fire and I—I hit her." It stunned Aria — the weight of her confession. It broke her, cracked her right open. "I hit her."

Halle wavered, "When did you know?"

"I didn't— I didn't know it was real," Aria babbled, gasping for air through her weeping. "I didn't— not until you told us you thought you killed Ali at mine, when I was ill," said Aria truthfully. "When you brought it up last year, I tried to push you from it because I didn't want it to be true."

"You were always the one pushing," Spencer recalled, her hot tears more accusatory. "You pushed the strongest whenever she brought it up, you always said none of us ever left the barn. That Halle..." she paused, "never left the barn."

"I'm so sorry, Spencer," Aria broke down. "I'm sorry I ever let you think it was you. I should have owned up sooner, but I was too..." She bit her quivering lip. "I was too scared."

Hanna searched Alison for answers. "If this is true, if you knew it was Aria, why didn't you go to the police?"

Tears blurred Alison from seeing them. Crying, she said, "I thought I deserved it. All of it."

"How can you say that?" Emily asked her, aghast at the severity of Alison's reply.

Yet, Spencer stayed on the last part. "All of what?"

"All of what happened after," Alison returned. "I wasn't just hit That Night... I was buried."

Gasped filled the cafe. Horror muddled them up inside, hands gripping to the leather seat cushions they sat on. Aria was so far out of hers that she almost slipped off. All eyes were fixed to Alison, who has slowly started to well up one more. Panic arose within Halle, itching to get out, clawing up her throat with the acid that climbed up into her mouth. Halle doubted herself — her lapse in memory — her ability to know which nightmare was real and which was just a nightmare.

"I don't—" Halle's voice cracked. She was shaken completely. "I don't remember what happened after... A said I—" She teared up, "Was it me? Did I bury you?"

The first tear fell. "I thought it was," Alison said. "As I lay there, I thought it was you burying me, Halle. I know it wasn't now, but... I can't push it out of my head, it's been there for so long."

"Do you..." Emily couldn't quite believe it. She felt sick from it. "Do you remember it? Being buried?"

"I just remember lying there," Alison recalled for them. "I couldn't open my eyes and my head—" she reached for the tender spot, "it hurt so bad. I was still bleeding, I think. I actually thought I was dead, that I was dying..." More water met the tops of her cheeks as she spoke. "And then I felt it hit me. At first, I thought it was raining again, but it wasn't. It was dirt. Somebody was throwing it down at me — on me. I could heard the shovel, and when I heard it, I knew to shut my eyes so it wouldn't get in them. But I couldn't see!" she cried out.

Her voice shook. "I couldn't open them. My brain wasn't working, I couldn't— I couldn't move." She continued through the rivers she wept. "I could hear voices. Somebody was talking to someone else, they thought I was dead." Alison let out a violent sob, "I was trying to tell them I was alive! I was screaming!" Her eyelids were clenched shut, bringing it out of the darkness. Tilting her head up to the ceiling, her best friends could imagine Alison's pleas to the sky as she was buried. "'God, can't you see me? Can't you see him breathing? Look at me!'"

Horror and misery dwelled over them. It drenched them. They had lost their voices at the trauma inflicted second-hand by the broken girl before them. Alison wrecked herself to share with her friends her story. They cried along with her. Waterfalls of tears washed their faces, soaking their skin and wetting their knees from where they fell. Their eyes ached from all that left them. It was too much to take — too much to hear.

"But the words didn't come out." Alison set her gaze ahead, foggily obscured. Her mouth was thick with salvia from all the sobbing. Alison was utterly shattered. "I couldn't move."

"Ali—" Aria was the first to react audibly. This was her time to make up for the what she had done. She extended out a hand for Alison. "Look, we're here for you," she stated strongly. She gripped onto Alison as tight as she could as Aria pleaded for her friend to see the apologetic and dedicated warmth to her promise. Aria rubbed Alison's shoulder, feeling the girl's cries as they settled. "All right, we are all here for you."

"And we always have been, "Emily inserted, black smudged under her bloodshot eyes. "You should've told us. You didn't have to keep this a secret."

"God," Hanna pushed out a tear-ridden sigh, "I can't believe A buried alive."

"Are you—?"

Halle cut Spencer off. "It's my fault," she said, heart thumping loudly as she caught up to all the madness swirling around her. "It's my fault A... I should've called 9-1-1, I never should've left you alone to hide the rock, I never should've—"

"Protected me," Aria finished for her, and Halle stopped her irate attack of herself. They stopped and their wet stares held the other's.

"Aria, I—"

Halle couldn't say it. She couldn't speak. How could she regret something she didn't full understand? Couldn't even begin to comprehend? How could she had taken in the bloody rock and her two friends and picked one? Halle wondered if she was even allowed to regret such a defining, haunting choice. After all, Halle remembered the pull — the distinct feeling of confidence when she chose Aria and how the first thing she recounted so intimately was protecting Aria because she deserved it... and Alison didn't.

"You were hysterical, Aria," Alison said, and the focus shifted back to her. "You kept saying the same things over and over." Her jaw tightened right before it wobble. "'What have I done? What have I done?'"

Aria dropped her guilty, blood-covered hand from Alison. Her heart was pierce through. "I—I don't... I'm so sorry."

"Ali," started Emily, "who else knows what happened?"

"My mom," answered Alison, sniffing. "She... she figured out I was alive last summer. I had gone to my Nana D's place to hide out, a place I knew. She was there."

"Oh, my god," awed Hanna. "What did she say? How did she react when she found out you were alive?"

"We cried, mostly," Aliso divulged. "She set up some safety nets for me. A bank account, clothes, cash, gave me a list of rentals to stay in so I could stay safe and off the streets."

"A knows about the Annalise Day account," Halle said, again wiping at her face. "We think they're linked to something The Carissimi Group, too."

Alison blinkered at that. "What's that?" she asked, puzzled slightly.

"It's a big investment firm," said spencer. "It was connected to the plane at the lodge and Radley. Ali, your mom..." she hinted, "did you know she was on the board at Radley?"

Quietly, Alison said, "I did. But... it's not connected. Radley connects to A, not the other way around."

Remembering, Emily said, "Was Mrs Grunwald telling the truth when she said you went to Ravenswood?"

With a whine, Alison revealed, "I didn't know where else to go. I figured I'd go there and hide. I think... I just wanted to be close to family."

"But That Night," Hanna pulled her back, "my piece," she said, "I saw you leave."

Ignoring the bile in her mouth, the acid coating the inside of her throat, Hanna traipsed down the long driveway to the Hastings's house. She had wanted to vomit since they woke up in the barn without Alison and Spencer. She had drunk too much. Her mind was fuzzy — and not the good kind.

She had eaten too much, too. Her stomach swelled uncomfortably tight. She felt like a monster was fighting inside of her, ready to burst out through her meaty flesh at any moment. It physically hurt. The binge night of her mother's tequila and all the bowls of processed cheese puffs and s'mores, which Hanna demolished after another painful slight from Alison, even as Alison watched with judging eyes.

Hanna didn't want to walk that stomach-ache off. She didn't want to spend her early morning searching for Alison, who no doubt was planning to pull of the greatest, most awful prank of her life. What Hanna really wanted to do was sneak inside Spencer's house and purge herself of the poison in her body over the rim of the porcelain toilet.

But her head got worse. Her eyes dragged and her limbs didn't feel like hers. They didn't even feel like they were connected to her. Hanna felt like she was walking on jelly, wobbling down the curvature of the drive.

Stumbling to the keypad erected in the ground, Hanna gripped at it for support. Her knees buckled and gave way under her. She crashed down to the gravel and yelped out as the impact. Her leg burned; she could sense it was bleeding. Her leg felt wet with blood.

Then, Hanna looked up with glassy eyes. She hadn't noticed she was crying until she tasted the salt enter the corners of her mouth. She blinked them free, released all the water she could to clear her vision, and when she did, Hanna saw the gates to the Hastings' driveway had opened. At the foot of it was a silver — maybe light blue — car.

And Alison.

Hanna called out, "Alison! Alison!"

The blonde's steely gaze flashed towards the meek girl on the gravel drive, pleading for help. Alison met Hanna's soaked, teary face with a a deep breath and lifted her finger slowly to her lips.

This was a secret.

Suddenly, the acid rose and Hanna toppled over. She vomited to the side of her, splurging into the grass. She coughed and cried. Hanna looked up for Alison again, but the car — and Alison — was gone.

Alison hurried to the car as fast as she could. She slammed the door shut. Vanished was her yellow top, jeans and Toby's cardigan, all of them bunched up inside of the plastic bag she carried with her. Alison was cosily wrapped up in a large jumper and leggings. She reached for the black baseball cap from the floor of the car's passenger seat, tucking her golden locks up under it as she put it one.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" CeCe asked her in great concern. "We don't have to," she said. "We can still go to the hospital and report your psycho friends—"

"Drive." Alison was too far committed to the plan to stop now. She winced at the force, her hand reaching up to hold the cleaned but throbbing wound. She demanded, "Go, please."

"CeCe got me to safety," said Alison. "The plan was to go to the Lost Woods, hide out there, watch everybody as Vivian Darkbloom — find A." She continued, "But things got too heavy, too quickly, and before I knew it, I was so out of my depth, I couldn't come back." She admitted, "I started to think about what happened, how I drove you to that place, Aria." Her hand rested upon her heart. "If I had made a killer out of you — out of all the people in my life — how could I not expect A to wanna kill me?"

"Did you figure out who was A there?" Spencer asked her.

"I thought," Alison paused, "for a really long time, with the text and what you did, Aria, I thought you were A. When you moved to Iceland, I still thought it. It wasn't until you all started getting texts, I realised it wasn't you."

"So, that whole time, for a whole year," began Aria, "you thought it was me?"

"I doubted it all the time," Alison expressed, honest. "And there were moments, trapped in my own head, where I thought it was someone else. Like I said, I was meant to figure it out at The Lost Woods Resort, to find out a way to win against A." She dropped her gaze. "I ever expected A to find me."

She was going stir-crazy. Trapped — hauled up on a seedy motel room — for four days now had caused Alison's patience to wear thinner. It was torn. Her hand shook with every appeal that she saw come across her screen, broadcasted on the news.

"—Alison's a confident, bright girl," said Jessica DiLaurentis into the microphone. She read from a piece of paper to a lawn full of journalists, with her husband's arm around her shoulders. "When she walks in the room, people take notice. She is the sun to our lives. Our centre. She's done nothing to deserve her being taken from us, and we are falling apart without her. Our family is incomplete. Alison," she pleaded, "if you're listening, please come home, sweetheart. Please be safe."

"If you have taken her, please," Kenneth DiLaurentis turned to direct begging, "let her go. She's a child. She's fifteen. She deserves to be home with her family. She has many people who miss her and will go on missing her until she's back with us. Please, find your humanity and let her go, let her come home."

"One of those people who miss her," said the reporter, "is Alison's childhood best friend and neighbour, Halle Brewster. Brewster, along with Alison's other friends, were with Alison the night she disappeared."

"Alison, we miss you," Halle read from her paper, trembling. Both her mother and father stood either side of her, holding Halle up with their strength. "I miss you. Each day is getting harder and harder. There's so much I want to say to you, but can't. Alison, please, if you can, reach out. Let us know you're safe." Her dark eyes fixed to the camera, speaking to Alison in the motel room. "Come home to us. We need to know you're alive."

More footage played. A late night vigil, held by the church, was shown. While the turnout was glorious — certainly on for records — Alison seethed at the hidden touches. Forbidden glances from over the heads of others until they somehow, naturally, ended up at each other's sides. Halle and Jason. Jason and Halle. Even with all the cameras, all the exaggerated attention, the two slid in by one another. Jason's head was dipped down to whisper, close to Halle's cheek as she gazed up at his green eyes, weary from missing what affection they had lost That night from their fight.

Halle was missing him.

Not her.

Not Alison.

Insipid, Alison took action. White, hot rage flowed through her body, down her arms into her hands and then her fingers as she aggressively typed at the laptop that CeCe had given her. On the Channel 7's forum, Alison blasted them via an anonymous comments.

Look at the brother and the so-call bff!
It's clear as day that it's a crime of passion.
They're way too close! He did it and she covered!

The more she watched, the more comments she read, the hotter Alison's rage soared. Safely hidden, Alison exited her motel room with the disposable cell-phone. She only had one number to call and did so in a jealous fury.

"CeCe, call me back," Alison ordered furiously. "They're lying to the cops, they're still screwing each other — it's so obvious. I—Call me back — now!" she fumed.

"Alison?"

Mona's voice was small, entirely confused by the scene she had stumbled upon. It wasn't the first time she had seen Alison's in a dark brown wig; this time, she was without the red coat.

Nervous, Alison gulped as faced Mona Vanderwaal. Apprehension gripped where the rage once did. She had been rumbled four days in. "Mona."

"Ali," said Mona in relief. "Oh, my god, are you okay? The police are looking for you. There's been search parties, we had a vigil last night and—"

"Mona," Alison sternly stopped her. "You can't tell anyone I'm here."

Floored, Mona asked, "Why?"

"How did you find me?" Alison asked instead, more demandingly.

"From the postcard you gave me," Mona answered her honestly. "You ripped it in half, but I could make out the rest."

"So, you came here?" Alison dubiously questioned.

"I came to look around," Mona replied like it was the most natural thing she could've done. "I thought maybe it was important and I—" she grinned excitedly, "I was right!"

"Mona," Alison growled. "Did anyone follow you? Did you tell anyone you were coming out here for me?"

"Should I have?"

Deeper, more concerned now, Alison repeated herself, "Mona — does anyone know?"

"No, Ali," Mona finally said. "But why? Why are you hiding out? Everyone's looking for you."

"If I tell you something, can you keep a secret?" proposed Alison seriously. She struck a deal to keep her location hidden. As expected, Alison saw Mona keenly nod. "I'm hiding because... because somebody wants me dead."

Mona gasped, "What?"

"Somebody hit me the other night, they wanted me dead," Alison gravely revealed.

Shortly after, the pair ended up in room two of The Lost Woods Resort. Alison was perched at the edge of the bed as Mona tended to the wound. The slash to her skull was scabbing over, bruising black and oozing when Mona pressed too hard. "I'm sorry," Mona said with every wince that escaped Alison. "You should see a doctor, you could have seriously hurt yourself," Mona advised. "And it could get infected if you wash your hair and shampoo gets in it."

"No, no—" Alison profusely shook her injury head, "no doctor," she stated. "How do I stop it getting infected?"

"Uh, well, antibiotics," Mona reasoned. "Creams that are antiseptic are good to treat the wound for now, but I wouldn't wash your hair with anything other than water for some time."

"Guess I'll be wearing that wig for a while, then," remarked Alison, glancing to her disguise. She looked to Mona. "What else?"

"I don't know," said Mona. "Ali, I really think you ought to see a—"

"I'm not seeing a doctor," Alison cut in sharply. "I told you, I'm not going back until I know who A is."

"Do you think they're the one who hit you?" wondered Mona curiously, having collected information from Alison about her bully.

"I," Alison's felt her lip quiver, "I don't know, I hope not."

Disbelieving, Mona sighed, "I still can't believe somebody tried to kill you." She pulled away. "I'm scared for you, Alison."

A whimper emitted from the blonde. "I'm scared for me, roo." She had never sounded so fragile. Mona was surprised that Alison was allowing her to see her to vulnerable, but Alison's trust was severely fractured, and Mona took advantage of that.

"If this A-person—" Mona withdrew a tad more, "who's after you, is willing to bash your head in, what's stopping them from trying again?"

"Nothing," Alison returned. "That's why I'm here, Mona, that's why I can't go back."

"I don't think you should either," mentioned Mona as she brushed a strand of golden hair from out of Alison's face. "Maybe you should die."

It scared Alison. "What?"

"Let A think you're dead," Mona smartly suggested. "You're already doing it, but maybe you should really disappear, Ali, further than here. Because," she exhaled, "if I found you, A will too." She saw the panic seep in. "I'm sorry," Mona inserted briskly, "I don't mean to frighten you."

"You don't," Alison said, swallowed as she pushed her shoulders back. "Staying gone scares me."

"If anyone can do it, it's you, Ali." Mona finished with a smile as she said, "And I wanna help you."

"I thanked her," repulsed Alison. Her locked jaw rocked back and forth, clenching and unclenching she she fumed. "I thanked her for helping me, and Mona played me like a fool. She got exactly what she wanted. I went to Ravenswood as Vivian the next day."

"Wait," Aria remembered. Her eyes went to the only girl left with their piece. "What about Emily?"

All of them looked to the raven-haired beauty in the middle of the couch, her on the spot with all the stares on her. Her eyes were still bloodshot from all the crying but puzzlement filled them currently.

"That Night isn't just about me," Alison said. "It's her, too. The girl in my grave."

"Faith," muttered Halle lowly.

"Is that her name?" Alison asked, smaller. "Did you find her?"

"No, I, uh—" Halle shook her head, "it's what I call her."

Hanna elaborated, "She didn't like calling her the dead girl, so."

"I like it," said Alison sincerely, with a soft smile.

"So, wait," Spencer spoke up. "What Emily saw wasn't Aria and Halle and you," she said to Alison, "it was Faith."

"Em," Aria carefully said, "what do you remember?

Emily answered, "Not much. I remember it had rained and... and I heard sprinklers."

Rain hung in the air. She felt water droplets hit her forehead and run down her face, rolling off her cheek. Emily looked up at the overgrown trees towering tall over her; its leaves were slick. She heard something in the near distance, a spritzing of some sort, too intelligible to make out. Her gaze went down to her white canvas trainers with a thick sole, realising then that her feet were wet.

With another step, the ground squelched under her shoes. Another droplet fell and this time it landed on the shoulder of her purple fleece. A deep, inky black-blue sky was above her as she emerged from out of the trees, the rustling through the leaves picked up with the wind and Emily found light. It was weak, dim and yellowish. Through a large tree, closer to the light than Emily was, it was plastered to a wall high up. Emily rounded a thick bush, heavy shrubbery left behind as she came to a clearing, entering a large open yard.

The DiLaurentis yard.

She was in Alison's backyard.

Across from her sat a garden table and matching chairs and a lonesome wheelbarrow. Her ears pricked up. Water, Emily thought. It wasn't running, but spurting. The lawn began to get wet again as the sprinklers surprisingly came on, covering the vast grass. It fell across the lawn in multiple thin streams. Emily looked down at her feet, where they were planted, and noted the wetness of the ground.

She looked up. There, she found Alison. Her back was to Emily as she walked towards the tree. Alison was talking with someone. They were arguing. Stepping forward, Emily accidentally trod on a twig.

"Crap," Emily muttered, but when she looked up again, she found that Alison was staring at her. She was in the same yellow top, only her golden tan was gone. This Alison was pale, thinner, more pinched together. Yet, her hair was still beautiful. Floating locks of angel-hair framed her heart-shaped face. The moonlight reflected on it, giving her the appearance of almost being god-like, but her cerulean blues were scared.

Alison was opposite someone, begging, while in that ruffled yellow top. She was scared, Emily could tell even from the distance. Emily couldn't hear what was being said from both sides, but she could tell Alison was upset. So was the other person.

"Please, I just wanna see her. Can I please see her? Maybe if I talk to her, then we can figure this out. We can fix this for everyone, please. I don't wanna go back there."

As Emily surged forward to help, Alison backed herself up. She was crying, tears strolling down her cheeks as she shook her head. She took a step back and the back of her heel clipped against the wood plank in the ground. Alison fell back, surrounded by dirt, but somebody came at her from behind. A black hoodie appeared from behind another tree, a shovel in their hand.

Alison let out her loudest, most guttural scream yet, and the hoodie thrust down the shovel. She smashed it into the blonde's skull.

Emily's skin was coated in sweat as it poured from her. She was disjointed, absolutely terrified. Her hands were clenched around the seat cushion, knuckles white but her face flushed a brilliant sweaty red. "That's all I remember," she said helplessly.

"Em," Alison said carefully. "It wasn't me, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, Aria had already hit Alison," Spencer reasoned. "It has to be Faith in the yard, and you just can't remember it yet."

Emily sulked, beating herself up over it. Halle reached for her and rested a warm hand on her girlfriend's knee. "Maybe," said Halle, "when you see her face, it'll click for you. You just have to know who it is, baby, you did great."

A tiny, grateful smile pulled at Emily's mouth. She appreciated Halle's attentiveness -- her willingness to comfort her through the difficult patch of her memory, but all Emily could do was look at Alison and ask, "So, what do we do next?"

•

Emotions were high, and yet, were at last subsiding. The tears had been cried, shared and wiped away. The truth was out. It set them free, partly. Although, it didn't feel that way. All of them still felt trapped, confined by A and what happened to the girl in Alison's grave. There was still a dead girl and a murderer and A.

There was still A...

Disappointed, Spencer said, "I don't think we're gonna figure this out tonight, but you shouldn't leave, Ali."

They were gathered around the counter when Emily said, "Yeah, we know everything now, we can protect you."

Alison felt the burden of her put on her friends for these three years. Still, she sharply returned, "Yeah, we know everything except who A is."

"But we have an idea," Halle pushed, and Aria quickly backed her up.

"And if the six of us, if we stick together—"

Alison interrupted, "I can't go back until I figure out how it is who wants me dead."

Emily said, "Ali, we can't go back on ourselves now, and it's not just us you have protecting you. You have your mom and Jason," she added.

Unsure but manageably soft, Hanna said, "Ali, come on, you can't just leave." She asked, "Don't you wanna come home?"

"It was surprisingly easy for me to stay gone," Alison truthfully admitted. Her tone slighted with a peeved sourness before it was instantly saved by a sweet delicateness. "Until Mona hit you with a car, until you both got hurt," she said to Hanna and Halle. She surprised them, "God, I was so scared that you were gonna die. It was worth the risk." She kept her stare on Hanna. "When I saw you in the hospital... When I saw what Mona did to you, both," she added, remembering Halle was there also, "I decided to stop running. I tried to keep one step ahead of A, and I did everything to keep you safe."

"Arghh!"

Spencer released an almighty scream as she tried to flee from Ian Thomas. He came at her from the rickety, old elevator, leaving Halle's head bleeding out in the chapel. He charged at her, seizing Spencer by the scruff of her coat. In the fight, Ian was victorious. He had Spencer on the ledge of the bell tower, begging him for her life.

"Please," Spencer said desperately, "if you love my sister, you won't do this."

There was a crazed sheen to Ian's eyes. "I'm doing this because I love her."

He meant to push Spencer, but she fell anyway. She lost her balance, her foot slipping, and she dropped. Spencer screamed out. She had kept a grip to Ian and dragged him down to his knees while she clutched to him and the wooden bannister. He wanted to push her off — to kill her.

A hooded figure appeared first. Ian's worried gaze flashed up and was meet with Alison's scarily even face. "What are you doing here?" he asked her, confused more than shocked.

Hesitation didn't exist. In a flash, Alison had used all her strength to shove Ian Thomas. His body dove over the ledge, him not having a chance to save himself. Spencer let out another scream as he yelped, plummeting to his death. The fall tangled him in rope, a loud crack following.

"Ian died in the bell tower," Alison informed. "I don't know which A got his body out of the church, Mona or this new one."

Halle recalled, "Mona said she found Ian's body at that old barn, she said there was a diary of yours next to him."

"It wasn't Mona who dragged him out, then," Alison concluded. "A's playing her like she played you guys. The night Ian died was the same night Noel found out I was alive," she added, causing Halle's head to whip up. "He saw me in the crowd outside the church, he offered to help me because you got hurt again, Halle. It's always been about keeping you safe for him, and the only way he could do that was by helping me. Noel understood how much danger you were in — how much danger we were all in. He swore to help me protect you until we could figure out how to stop A."

Hearing it, Hanna then voiced the smoky memory she had been doubting. "Were you at the lodge the night of the fire?"

A smile graced Alison's face, and she nodded. "I helped you, Hanna," she said. "I got you and Mona out, but by time I got there, the rest of you were already safe."

Quickly, Aria asked, "Did you see who pulled us out?"

With another nod, Alison stated, "It was Noel. He was in a hoodie that night, he was supposed to be my eyes to see who got off that place, but.. when the fire started...."

Getting ready to head back to the plane — wait for Red Coat to leave — Spencer's ears picked up. She heard running. Her head span around. She saw another bulky figure in a hoodie go sprinting ahead of her, picking up such speed it frightened her. That fear wound around her neck and then the smoke hit Spencer again. It wasn't coming from the plane. It was coming from the lodge.

Branches hit Noel in the face. They whipped at his skin; slapped him with severe panic. He had never ran so fast in his life. His chest felt the tightest it had ever been. He smelt the smoke and saw the flames. They glowed amber furiously, scaling up the height of the lodge.

"No," he panted. "No — Halle!" he shouted over the roaring fire. "Halle! HALLE!"

From his frantic search of the inflamed property, Noel heard cries for help. Then, banging. It was dying out. She was dying out. He was terrified the smoke would kill them. Soon, he located where the noise was coming from. Discovering the lock was blocked by a screwdriver, noel reached out to touch it.

"Argh—Crap!"

Noel yelled out in pain. His hand seared. He jolted back at the scolding heat of the metal, his palm now red and blistering. His flesh was burnt as he covered it with the fabric of his hoodie to attempt to retrieve it once more. He could feel the hotness through it and once it was out, he chucked it to the ground and wretched the door open.

"Halle!"

A cloud of black smoke engulfed him. Noel coughed at the shock. His eyes stung at the hit. The room he face was roasting, melting from the fire. When he could see, Noel found Halle and her friends unconscious on the floor. He wrestled the cabinet blocking the door out of his way, tossing it to the side, before he braved the smoke to go collect Halle. She brought her to safety, her drooping body in her arms as he carried her out.

Outside, a metal clunk sounded. It pulled Emily from the Ali-trance and towards it. She was too fixated on the darkness through the window to listen anymore.

"And you and Noel?" checked Hanna. "You're the two voices I heard? You fought?"

"I was annoyed," Alison conceded, ashamed. "I messed up finding out who A was and who's A's Red Coat was and—and it's all I could think of." She lowered her head. "Noel just wanted to call an ambulance, he wanted to let the cops know. So, we fought, badly," she said.

In the pitch black, Emily swore she saw a block spot more.

"But," Alison continued, "I told Noel that I couldn't come back yet and that we had to—" She cleared her throat, "that we have to leave you there and hope you were okay." Tears welled in her eyes again. "He hated me for that, and your friendship with him was never the same after I made him leave you, Hal," she explained earnestly.

Tortured, Halle let her eyes fil the same. "He begged me to tell him," she began. "The last time I was in New York, he begged me to tell him A was back and I couldn't do it. I lied to his face, I've lied to him so much."

In concern, Emily inspected, "Guys, I think somebody's out there."

Alerted, the six were up. They joined Emily. Alison darted across the cafe the quickest, leaping into action as she scurried to switch off the light. The dark swallowed them whole, and the girl stared out of the front window of the Mockingbird cafe. A tunnel of white light shove through at them.

While they huddled together, Aria asked, "Is that Noel?"

A light tap hit the window. They let out shaky gasps. Tap, tap. Suddenly, the glass shattered. The entire window broken and fell from its frame, crashing to the floor in a thousand pieces. In pure shock, the six girls jolted back. Dread sunk in fast, crippling, as a black clothed figure was revealed to have been the shape Emily had seen. Slowly, A raised their arm and a gun was pointed at them.

They gasped out of fright, delving deep in their collective panic. "Ali, run!" yelled Emily. "Go!"

It was immediate — the call to run. Each of them had it; it coarses through them alongside the adrenaline that spiked. Their panic reached a new height, them all rushing up the stairs to safety. They sprinted up them, feet bounding up towards the apartment above. Muscles burned, searing, as they stammered inside. Alison led them, her scrambling for her life.

"Oh, my god!"

"Lock the door!" shouted Aria, panting heavily from overexcretion.

Spencer did. She shut the door with all her might, her violently shaking hands hurrying to bolt and lock it.

"That's not gonna hold — here, help me," Halle instructed in her heated rush. Instantly looking for the best way, Halle grabbed the cabinet from the left wall and dragged it to the door. Spencer helped her, them shoving the heavy wood to the door as a makeshift barricade.

"—Call 9-1-1!" ordered Alison adamantly afraid.

Eyes bulging wide, Emily shrieked, "Noel has our phones!"

BANG!

BANG!

They screamed, petrified. They were torn from the six teenagers as two gunshots were fired through the door. They ducked and covered in fright. A was at the door. A was after them. A wanted their second chance to kill Alison.

"Fire escape!" shouted Spencer urgently. She was hitting the back of Aria and Hanna as she ushered them to the far wall. "Fire escape!"

It was collision of flailing bodies. They bumped and shoved each other in the blind panic; some pulled. Emily pushed open the window in her wild panic and was the first out, turning to help Alison out afterward. Alison immediately ran up the metal steps, the group following as fear continued to soar.

Behind them, another loud band thumped. The door crashed open. Halle screamed at the back and her head whirled around just in time to see A appear at the window. The gun was brought out and lifted, and Halle screamed, "Faster, move! Move your ass!"

Frantically, they sped up the steps to the floor. They cried out as they reached the top, immediately splitting to search for an escape. Mass hysteria terrorised them as they ran around to the only available exits.

"We can to hurry," fretted Hanna, as she almost dove headfirst into the door to the roof's hatch on the opposite side.

"We have to get out of here," rushed Alison.

"Oh, my god!" exclaimed Emily. "He's right behind us!"

Hanna yanked at the door to the hatch. "It's locked!"

Overwhelmed, her head throbbing, Halle concluded, "There's no way out, the only way is down."

"No!" screeched Alison. "I'm not going back down there!"

"We might not have a choice, Ali!" yelled Aria.

Desperation gripped at Emily. She lurked over the ledge of the building, examining the distance between it and the one next to it. "Do you think we can make it?"

They didn't need to look to know. "NO!" they chorused in collective refusal.

"Okay, okay—" Halle's alarmed stare darted around the roof, torn between the two doors that A could use. "We're just gon' have to rush him."

"What?!" cried Hanna, tensed.

"We're gonna have to rush him," Halle repeated. "Okay — we attack, that's our best chance—"

Hanna interjected hotly, "Yeah, our best chance at being shot!"

"Six on one — I like those odds," Spencer said, not listening. She was too wired, too shaky to hear anything other than that. "Okay, we just have to—"

The left door creaked. Their heads whipped to face it, fear-struck and hungry for revenge.  The girls banded together, encircling on each other to protect their friends. The fear was too great — too immense. All that ran through their minds was the last two years. Every box they had been shoved in, every lie they told, every injury they hid or had ruin their futures, every humiliating or violating thing A had done to them or their bodies. They were hurting, in complete and utter agony, so when they saw the black hoodie from the nightmares, they charged.

The girls cried out as they attacked together. Emily dove low with her shoulder, colliding with his gut; Alison and Spencer tackled him backwards into the wall; Aria yelled as she pummelled him with jabs; Hanna dug her nails through the mask, causing him to wail out in pain while Halle fought for the gun. In the brawl, Halle grunted as she shoved his wrist to the wall. She slammed it several times until he yelped, Aria having forced the heel of her boot down into his foot.

BANG!

They shrieked as the gun rang out. It had been knocked out of his grasp and fell to the ground in the fight. They jumped back, startled and afraid. The girls and A panted, him slumped up against the wall after he had been abused by them. They saw it. Every single one of them connected with the gun in middle and all of them reached for it.

Halle's knee bolted up into A's face. He grunted as he tumbled backwards, losing his balance, and Hanna was able to snatch up the weapon quicker than anybody else. Once she had done that, the girls backed off. They created distance from him, closing back to each other for their core strength, while he took a step back with his hands up on defence.

All of the anger built in her chest as Hanna shockingly brandished the gun up to meet A. Her aim was scarily steady, her finger on the trigger as she kept it on A's covered face.

"TAKE OF THE MASK!" Spencer yelled, with Alison clutched at her side for safety.

"NOW!" Hana raged.

Angrily, Aria demanded the same, "TAKE IT OFF!"

All six panted heavily. Their hearted thumped loudly, throats clenched tight, adrenaline pumping through their veins. Chaos rolled around them, swirling them up in whirlpool of anxiety and angst. This was the moment they weren't against him. They were winning. They were going to silence A.

A reached for the mask. He was raging at the defeat. Finally, it was off. Dumbstruck, they gasped as he threw down the mask to the floor.

"Ezra?"

"Hello, Alison," was the first thing Ezra Fitz had ever said as A. Stood, disarmed, in the all-black uniform, Ezra appeared equally and unphased as he was tense that his little game with them had finished.

He was A.

Ezra Fitz was their A. He had out-lied the girls the whole time, and they had him cornered. Caught in the crossfire, Ezra underestimated them as a six where he knew them confidently as a five.

"I—" Hanna tried not to release her stern hold of the gun, "I don't understand," she said.

Emily added, "You lied to us, you said it was just the book."

"It's so much bigger than the book," Ezra declared to them, a sick sort of smile twisted at his mouth. "It's a legacy."

"Why?" Aria was heard to say, tears kissing her eyes at the anguish in her heart. "Why, Ezra? I trusted you, I loved you," she wept.

"Because every story needs a villain," Ezra gave impossibly breezy. "And mine was only good when Mona was A, and when went away to Radley..." He seemed disappointed a the memory, "I just couldn't write unless I was thinking of all the things she did to you. All the ways she could get you to move and play her little game. It was like you weren't real." Miraculously, he said, "You were characters, and I could only ever write you if I didn't see you as real people."

"You played us," Spencer said, small.

"No, you see, that's where you keep going wrong," Ezra pointed out. "You're thinking about this as a game with all the pieces and taking turns. It's not like that — it's too unfair to be a game. It's a book," he said clearly. "It's a story."

"A story about Alison," Halle finished from him, gathering what she could from the shards of the betrayal he stabbed them with.

"A story about all of you," Ezra announced, his arms out and wide like to signal the end of a show when the curtains were set to be drawn. He explained, "It wouldn't exist without every single one of you girls. You're all part of what Alison created, so you have to have your place in my book. I'll admit—" his shaky hand came to point at them, "you got me good. I slipped up," he confessed. "I got too ahead of myself, playing with you to hurry the story along. It can do that to you, you get so caught up in it, and before I knew it you were in Ravenswood and you found Alison. It was only a matter of time before we ended up here. Together—" his cold eyes full of hatred landed on their old leader, "Alison," he said.

"It started with you," Ezra went on. "With your lies, and like everything, they got everyone else into trouble but you." He stepped forward. "You didn't care what you did, who you hurt, what legacy a family had built that you could've destroyed. None of you do," he jeered. "You lie and you steal and you fester. You rot from the inside out until there is nothing left, then you move on." He raised his voice, "If I'm not allowed to move on, neither should you."

"I thought you loved me," Aria said, crying. Tears wet her face, leaking down it in streams of hurt.

"And I did," Ezra said swirly. He took another step, his hand out towards her. "Aria—"

"Don't you dare," warned Hanna, her grip on the gun grew tighter. "Don't you dare touch her."

Ezra laughed at her. "What's are you gonna do, Hanna? Shoot me?" He scoffed at the lack of drive within Hanna. "Put the gun down before you hurt yourself," he ordered her. "You don't think I know you well enough to know which of you is capable of murder." He taunted her, "It's not you, Hanna, you couldn't even kill Wilden."

"Did you?" Emily pushed, her voice cracking.

"No — I had prior engagement the night," Ezra bragged. "But I am the reason your friend CeCe Drake is sat in a police station," he informed Alison. "And CeCe may say she's the loyal type, but she's with that detective ratting you out as we speak, Alison."

Bravely, Alison said, "CeCe wouldn't do that, she's helping me."

"She's helping you, is she?" Ezra wryly mocked her, "She's telling the cops you're alive and who's the dead girl in your grave right now."

"Wait—" It clicked for Spencer, "you're the second witness?"

"How? You weren't even there," said Halle.

"I did what you bitches do best — I lied." He smirked. "Guess I'm the better one after all, and with what's about to happen next, I'm lucky I learned from you, Ali." Ezra's eyes hardened, more sinister as he spoke. "My life's over now. I may be out on bail, but it's still going to trial. I'm going to jail, but I'm not going down for just you, Aria," he told her cruelly. "Like I said, it's not my legacy. It's not going to be my legacy. My immortality is you, Alison—" he locked onto as they both took a step forward, "and the only way I live on forever is if you're dead." With another step, Ezra decided already. "Only one of us is leaving New York tonight, and you girls come as a group—"

BANG!

It happened in a flash. Ezra was gearing up to step closer, and Alison reacted. Her fear didn't paralyse her as it had her friends; it surged her forward. Her hand had shot forward and grabbed the gun over Hanna's hold on the weapon and Alison pulled the trigger, forcing Hanna do to it as well.

"No!" An abrupt cry ripped from Aria. "No!" She darted out to Ezra, gripping at him as he collapsed to the floor.

"Ali!" exclaimed Spencer. "Ali, what did you do?"

"He was coming at me—at us," Alison panicked in a ramble. She justified her action with a tremor, dithering as her eyes watered at what she had done. "I'm— he was gonna lunge at me. I had no choice. I—" She broke down into floods of tears. "He was gonna kill me."

In a frantic hurry, Aria unzipped the hoodie to reveal Ezra's shirt. It was grey at first, then it gradually turned crimson. His blood pooled from his stomach as Aria cried hysterically over him.

At the sight, Halle uttered, "Oh, my god, oh, my..."

"Hanna," Emily said coolly. The dark blonde still held tight to the gun, it aimed where Alison had shot it. Hanna was frozen, crippled at what she had done— at the person dying in front of her. "Hanna, give me the gun, okay?" coaxed Emily gently. "Let me have it, let go."

"Shh, don't," panicked Aria. Her voice cracked, her hands running all over his ashen, quickly fading of colour face. "No. you stay awake, do you hear me?"

"Aria, he's A—"

"He's dying, Spencer!" Aria snapped furiously. "He's never gonna go to jail if he dies! No!" she yelled at him, slapping his cheeks to frighten his drooping eyes open. "No, don't you dare close your eyes!"

"I killed him," whispered out Hanna, as she stared enchanted at the bloody scene. "I shot him, I shot him, Em."

"Hanna, just give me the gun," Emily said again, more softly, more considerate. Once she was certain Hanna would be unable to break free on her trance, Emily closed her hands around Hanna's and removed the gun from her solid grip.

"—No, no, please!" begged Aria madly. "Help! Halle, help me!" Her desperate gaze whipped to a stunned Halle. "Please, help me save him! Somebody call for help! Halle!" she shouted. Her tears cascaded down her cheeks in thick streams. "Please!"

It stirred the girl on. It hit her hard, and Halle grappled to her knees. Without thinking of who he was and what he had done, Halle shoved her hands down to the wound. His groaned at the impact yet Halle kept at the pressure.

"Oh, my god!"

The cries for help returned. They were wailing from the top of the roof, screaming for help, as the warm blood kept leaking out of Ezra Fitz. His face was white. From the ledge, the girls sobbed and screamed. All they shouted was for help, desperate for somebody to hear them. They cried and cried while Ezra paled and bled out.

A was dying.

There was nothing to win. No game to be played. A new secret was sprung and they'd hoard it with the others and spread more lies. Perhaps that was why, on the rooftop, it didn't feel like the end. The wound of A hadn't closed when a new one appeared. They were Alison and The Liars — all of them at a tremendous loss.

After all, they still had to escape from New York.

•

SEASON FOUR IS OVER, BITCHES!!
Oh my goodness — thank you so much if you've made it this far. Thank you for reading, voting, and commenting. It means the world to know how much you guys are enjoying reading my little series!!

Over 30,ooo words — my longest chapter to date. My fingers are officially wrecked from finishing this. God, I hope you all like the changes and are following along with the ones I've made🤞🏽💗
If you have any questions (and don't feel comfortable writing on my wall), I've set up an email for this specific account:
[email protected]

Obviously, season five is coming soon. Certain twists are coming too... 👀 From here on out, there's going to be some pretty big differences from the show. Halle and Jason are coming back this season; I can't believe we've gone all season four without them.

Anyway, thank you again!!
See you in season five!!

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