Nothing good ever seems to come from opening her door to unexpected visitors and yet, Emily finds herself walking listlessly to answer the knocking. When she pulls open the front door, she's met with a surly looking Hanna glaring at her in the fading sunlight. Caleb stands somewhat awkwardly behind the blonde, offering Emily a smile and a wave in greeting. Emily cautiously sizes up the pair, shrinking back a little at Hanna's icy demeanor. Her stomach twists with nervous energy as she wonders what the couple could possibly want with her.
She gets her answer soon enough.
"Caleb's here to de-bug," Hanna explains curtly, brushing past Emily to enter the Fields' home. The blonde sweeps her eyes around Emily's living room like she's searching for something before huffing quietly to herself and rolling her eyes away from Emily.
Caleb brandishes his fancy chrome brief case for Emily to see and follows his girlfriend inside with a sheepish lopsided grin.
"Oh, right," Emily says, nodding slowly as Hanna's words click in her mind. She knew Caleb was planning on checking the other girls' houses for wires or recording devices A may have planted like he did at Alison's, but since she hadn't heard from anyone in a couple of days—not that she expected her friends to reach out to her after what transpired in Alison's room—she assumed she had been removed from the official de-bugging list as punishment for her heinous behavior.
"I'll start in the bedroom if that's cool with you?" Caleb asks as he pops open the briefcase and removes the frequency detector.
Emily shakes herself out of her momentary daze to acknowledge the boy. "Yeah, of course, go on up."
As Emily watches Caleb climb the stairs she's suddenly very thankful her mother isn't home so she doesn't have to explain why Caleb looks like he's ghost-busting her bedroom. She's also pretty glad her mother isn't around to hear whatever venom Hanna is about to spit at her.
With Caleb out of sight, Emily swears she can feel the temperature in the room rise as she's left alone with Hanna and the blonde's simmering hate for her. She can barely bring herself to make eye contact with her one-time best friend—her eyes bouncing awkwardly around the room as she tries to focus on anything but Hanna's grim expression.
The truth is, Emily has been preparing for this confrontation all weekend—she's had lengthy conversations with each and every one of her friends in her mind where she eloquently explains herself and emotionally expresses her regret. But those conversations were easier when they were one-sided—when she didn't have to face her friend's disgust and disappointment head-on. And despite having spent two days rehearsing what her next words to her friends would be, her mind is now completely blank and she feels woefully underprepared for this confrontation. What is she supposed to say to a girl who has previously voiced a very strong desire to take a golf club to the knees of the person responsible for hurting Alison?
Taking a deep breath and bracing herself for the worst, Emily glances up at Hanna and waits for the blonde to rip into her. But Hanna looks resistant, arms folded across her chest and hip popped to one side as she studies a photo of Emily with her parents that sits on the mantle.
As the seconds tick by, Emily grows more and more unnerved with the tense and awkward situation. No longer able to withstand Hanna's unique blend of disgust and indifference, she decides to bite the bullet and break the ice herself.
"I didn't think you'd want to see me," Emily says softly—so softly in fact, she wonders if Hanna has even heard her until the blonde is slowly turning to face her.
Hanna presses her lips together and shakes her head before speaking. "I didn't think I'd want to either."
"So what changed your mind?" Emily asks as she takes a seat on the sofa.
"Ali," Hanna confesses, crossing the room to sit besides Emily with a heavy sigh.
Emily startles at the mention of Alison's name. "What?"
"I went to see Ali yesterday," Hanna starts and Emily can sense a reluctance in the other girl's tone— as if Hanna doesn't want to even speak Alison's name in Emily's presence.
"And?" Emily implores eagerly. Despite her fear of hearing what Alison might have to say about her, she's hungry for information about the blonde. She needs to know what Alison is thinking, how she's feeling, what she's been doing since that dreadful day in her room—and if anything Alison has said might suggest that she'll eventually be open to speaking to Emily again.
Hanna takes a deep breath and speaks without meeting Emily's eyes. "We talked for a while and she told me not to hate you on her behalf."
"Oh," Emily mouths quietly. That's not at all what she was expecting but somehow Alison always manages to surprise her.
"If she doesn't hate you, then maybe I shouldn't either," Hanna continues with a half-hearted shrug, although she doesn't sound too sure.
"What does that mean?" Emily asks, her forehead creasing and her mouth drawing closed as she tries to decipher the motive behind Alison's words to Hanna.
"It means I'm still trying to wrap my head around all this," Hanna answer a little impatiently. "Hearing that recording was disturbing," the blonde pauses to shake the frown from her face. "And I don't know if I'll ever be able to get Alison's cries out of my head. Or look at you the same way again and not picture you doing that to her," Hanna adds with a shudder and Emily feels queasy at the description. "Knowing what you did—hearing it—it's a lot to process." Hanna pauses again to take a breath and look at Emily before continuing, "But you're still one of my best friends and I'd like to think we're not the worst thing we've ever done."
Emily offers a watery smile in Hanna's direction as she starts to feel a little hopeful—like maybe she hasn't lost her friends for good.
"That doesn't mean I'm don't hate what you did though," Hanna adds firmly.
Emily nods, feeling the tears slip down her cheeks. Spencer had expressed a similar sentiment to her when she had first found out and Emily doesn't fault either girl for feeling that way.
"I know. I hate it too," she agrees.
She hears a sniffle and the release of a shaky breath and glances up just in time to see Hanna swiping at her own tears. Emily quickly looks away—feeling useless at her inability to offer her friend the comfort she needs or face the damage she's caused.
"So have you heard from Charles again?" Hanna asks after a beat, seemingly trying to change the subject and ease the tension in the room. Emily doesn't fail to notice that A is now considered a light topic of conversation in comparison to herself.
"No," Emily grounds out, her jaw tightening at the mention of their tormentor.
"That's good."
"Is it?" Emily asks, her voice rising as she gets herself worked up thinking about the shadowy figure who continues to make their lives hell. "He's probably just laying low while he plots out the next phase of his plan to ruin my life. I still can't believe I did exactly what he asked and he punished me anyway!"
Hanna arches an eyebrow at the brunette's little outburst. "When has A ever played fair, Em?"
"This isn't a game, Hanna! This is my life!" Emily rants. She knows she's the one who hurt Alison, but A exploited their privacy and humiliated the blonde in front of all their friends. A did this to her. To Alison.
"This is all our lives now," Hanna notes plainly.
"And we're just supposed to accept that? A can record us having sex and blast it through a bluetooth speaker for everyone to hear and we're just supposed to suck it up and deal with it?" Emily demands, temper flaring.
"That wasn't sex," Hanna reminds her sternly.
Hanna's words feel like a punch to the stomach and Emily sinks back against the couch cushions in shame. "I know," she agrees softly.
"You got to stop feeling sorry for yourself, Emily. You're not the victim here," Hanna tells her in that blunt no-bullshit tone of hers. "I mean technically we're all A's victims, but when it comes to you and Ali, you're not the victim."
"I know. I just...God. I don't know how to live with this," Emily mutters, grinding the palms of her hands into her thighs and flexing her fingers against the denim.
Hanna shifts a little closer and places a hand on her knee. Emily's heart soars a tiny bit at the small sign of comfort.
"Look, Em, the situation is horrible. You messed up—you more than messed up," Hanna says. "But you can't go back and change the past. It's done. All you can do now is focus on the future. Figure out why you did what you did and make sure you never do it again."
Emily shakes her head vigorously. "Never. I would never hurt Alison or anyone else like that ever again," she declares soundly. "I just wish I could get Alison to see how sorry I am—make it up to her somehow."
"If Alison needs you to stay away so she can heal then that's what you need to do. You owe her that much at least," Hanna says, turning and looking Emily in the eye to emphasize her point.
Emily nods as if she agrees but truthfully, she doesn't know if she's capable of staying away from Alison.
"How is she? Did she seem okay when you two spoke?" Emily asks, careful not to sound too eager.
"She's okay," Hanna answers. "Upset and embarrassed but she'll be okay."
Emily feels a small amount of relief at hearing Alison is doing somewhat okay but that relief is short-lived. "God. If A really is Charles and he's her brother, then he's sicker than I thought," Emily muses out loud as she thinks of Alison's secret sibling recording and listening to their most intimate moments.
"Okay, your room is clean," Caleb announces as he waltzes into the living room with his trusty frequency detector in hand, seemingly oblivious to the tense conversation he's breaking up.
"Great. Thank you," Emily says sincerely, thankful the interruption.
Caleb flashes her a small smile. "I'll just do a quick sweep down here and then you'll be good to go."
Emily nods and watches the boy disappear into the kitchen before turning back to Hanna. "Does he know? About me and Alison?" she asks cautiously, curious as to how many people are privy to the details of her most despicable act.
Hanna bites her lip and shakes her head. "He knows something happened up in Ali's room that day but he doesn't know the details. I didn't think it was my place to tell him."
Emily expels a breath in relief. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. I'm not keeping it a secret for you. I did it for Alison."
Emily nods in understanding and lets the room fall quiet for a few moments before turning to address Hanna again. "Hey, so maybe when Caleb's done here we can all go to the Grille to grab something to eat?" she asks hopefully. "My mom won't be home till late and I don't really feel like cooking."
A conflicted look crosses Hanna's face. "Em...I don't know," she starts slowly, apologetically. "I don't think I'm ready for everything to go back to normal just yet. You still did what you did and it's going to take time before we get there."
Emily's heart drops at the rejection but she still manages to force a tight-lipped smile. "Right. Of course. Maybe some other time."
After waking up entirely too early, Emily decides to stop for coffee before school. She's going to need about a gallon of the stuff to get through the day if her tired eyes and throbbing headache is any indicator. Facing Hanna had been tough enough, she can't imagine how difficult it's going to be to see the rest of the girls at school today. Alison especially.
She's sitting at a table in the Brew sipping her second cup of coffee when she notices a flash of neon and leopard print. She looks up to see Aria handing the cashier some money in front of her. Feeling like she's been caught doing something wrong, Emily quickly averts her eyes and lowers her head. Her eyes dart nervously around the cafe as she contemplates the fastest route to the exit. Her need for caffeine forgotten as she's confronted with her fear of facing her friend in a public place—a public place she was once employed at.
She hears Aria cheerfully thank the barista and instinctively looks up just as Aria's turning in her direction, latte in one hand and car keys dangling from the other.
"Emily," Aria gasps as she stops short, mouth agape and eyes wide.
"Aria—hi," Emily sputters out, equally thrown by the encounter despite having spotted the other girl moments ago.
Aria ducks her eyes awkwardly and readjusts her purse on her shoulder. "Hi."
"Getting your caffeine fix before another never-ending day at Rosewood High?" Emily gestures to the cup in Aria's hand with a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood. Talking to a friend shouldn't be this hard but Emily can't help feeling anxious and afraid in the presence of the small brunette.
Aria grimaces in response, as if the thought of engaging in small talk with Emily is physically painful for her. "Yeah."
"Why don't you sit? We still have some time before first period," Emily suggests, motioning to the chair across from her. She isn't exactly eager to face her friends but she knows she'll have to get it over with sooner or later. Seeing Hanna hadn't been too bad, hopefully she can get on the right track with Aria and Spencer too.
Aria looks at the offered seat and shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Emily. I can't do this right now. I have to go."
Emily watches the other girl flee the coffee house with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Aria can't get away from her quick enough, she can barely look at her in fact. Her talk with Hanna had left her somewhat hopeful that she could eventually piece her friendships back together, but what if she can't with Aria—what if things remain broken between them?
Emily finds it somewhat surreal to realize that one of her closest friends is now so disgusted by her that she can't stand to be in her presence—but Aria is right to be disgusted by her, she's disgusted by herself.
She spots Alison in the hallway just after second period. The blonde is standing outside Mr. Richardson's classroom discussing something with the History teacher. Mr. Richardson's face is serious as speaks but Alison appears uninterested in whatever the older man is saying. Emily watches the pair for a bit before Mr. Richardson stops talking and disappears into the classroom. Alison rolls her eyes dramatically once he's out of sight, as if she had been suppressing the urge the whole time.
She wants to ask Alison what that was about—if everything's okay, if she's having trouble keeping up with her classes, if she needs help catching up on her assignments—but she knows she can't. Hanna was right, she has to give Alison space to heal.
Emily swallows her concern and just as she's about to turn around, Alison looks up and locks eyes with her. Emily's breath hitches as she's suddenly met with Alison's bright blue eyes. Unlike her, Alison doesn't look surprised to see her, just wounded and weary, but the blonde's eyes quickly harden in her direction. Ashamed, Emily looks away and turns to head to her next class. She doesn't know how she's going to get through the remaining few weeks of school at this rate.
Emily decides to skip lunch and instead slinks off to the gym to get a workout in. Hanna may not hate her but Aria clearly wants nothing to do with her, and she's not so sure where Spencer stands after hearing the recording, but she rather not find out in a crowded cafeteria in front of half the student body. Not to mention, Alison will probably be sitting with the other girls and Emily doesn't think she has the emotional strength to withstand another run-in the blonde today. Alison had looked so tired and defeated, and Emily's too much of a coward to face the consequences of her actions—to see the pain she caused written so clearly on Alison's face. Besides, it's not like she has much of an appetite these days anyway.
She snags a power bar and a bottle of water from the vending machine in the girls' locker room and forces down her snack before signing into the weight room, hopping to quiet her mind by exhausting her body.
As her wrapped fists hit the heavy bag in the center of the room she thinks about what Hanna said—that she needs to figure out how to make sure she never hurts Alison that way again. She had been so confident when she told Hanna she would never do something like that again, but how could she be so sure? What makes her think she'll be able to control herself next time when she hadn't been able to in the first place? It's not like she had planned to hurt Alison, or ever thought about what she was doing—she just did it. Everything had sort of just happened and that's what terrifies her—that she couldn't stop herself, that she had been so out of control that she had done things she never would have imagined herself capable of. But that's the thing about control—no one realizes they're losing it till it's gone. So what's to stop her from losing control again?
She squeezes her eyes shut and hits the bag harder—images of herself hovering over Alison's pained face flashing in her mind as her fists slam into the canvass. She needs to remain in control, she can't let herself get to that point ever again. She punches till her hands throb and her body slumps tiredly against the bag. She'll do better, she has to.
She keeps to herself the rest of the day, intentionally avoiding the spots where she knows her friends are likely to be in fear of another painfully awkward run-in like the one she had with Aria before school, but Spencer spots her at the end of the day and approaches her at her locker. The last bell has rung and she's making quick work of gathering the books and belongings she needs to bring home with her.
"Hey," Spencer says as she leans back against the locker beside Emily's.
Emily glances at her out of the corner of her eye. "Hey," she echoes.
Despite Emily's obvious moodiness, Spencer presses on casually. "So how's it going?"
Emily scoffs at the absurdity of such a simple question for such a complicated situation. "Aria can't even look at me. Hanna wants to hate me but Ali told her not to. And well, Alison probably wishes I'd get hit by a bus," she says in one breath.
Spencer frowns. "Ali doesn't wish that. But it's gonna take some time for Aria and Hanna to process this."
"Process. There's that word again," Emily says drily.
Spencer raises an eyebrow at Emily's moody mumbling but doesn't question it.
Emily shoves her Math book in her bag and zips it closed. "Why are you talking to me?"
"Because you're my friend?" Spencer answers slowly. "God, you and Alison both have a thing for asking the obvious."
Emily feels a stab of hurt at the words "you and Alison" because there will never be a her and Alison. She fucked that up.
"But you're more protective of Alison than anyone. You should hate me most of all," Emily points out.
Spencer doesn't hesitate in her answer, "I'm protective of all my friends. You included."
Emily shoulders her bag and frowns at the dirty linoleum. "I don't deserve your protection. You should be with Alison right now."
"Well, I probably would be," Spencer admits, "but she's not here right now."
"Yes she is. I saw her this morning."
"She was here but she left sometime before lunch."
"She cut class?" Emily demands incredulously. "She already missed one day this week and a bunch this month. She's never going to graduate if she—" she stops mid-rant, reminding herself that it's not her place to worry about Alison's attendance and that she's the reason the blonde has been avoiding school.
"That's what I plan to tell her when I go by her house after school to yell at her."
"Go easy on her," Emily requests, smiling lightly at the other girl's intensity.
Spencer smirks. "Don't I always?"
Emily cocks her head and shoots Spencer a pointed look. "I'm not convinced you know the meaning of the word easy."
"Easy: Adjective. Achieved without great effort; presenting few difficulties," Spencer recites smugly.
Emily laughs. Genuinely laughs for the first time in weeks.
"So Hanna, Aria and I were talking this afternoon at lunch," Spencer starts after a brief lull in the conversation and Emily can tell from the sudden shift in her friend's voice that the small moment of levity between them is gone.
"And?" Emily asks. She had intentionally skipped lunch knowing that she wouldn't be welcomed at her usual table with her friends, and she guesses that left her friends with plenty of time to discuss what a vile monster she is.
"Well, as I'm sure you know, prom is in a couple of weeks. And I know we were all planning to get ready together at my house and then ride there in the limo together..." Spencer trails off nervously.
Emily sees her typically composed friend struggling to get the words out and decides to put her out of her misery. "But you guys don't want me there now," she finishes knowingly.
Spencer sighs and bites her lip. "It's not that we don't want you there. We just think it might be best that we give everyone a little space—just for the time being—so that we can all heal and move forward."
Emily meets her friend's weak explanation with a roll of her eyes and a snort of derision. "You mean so you guys can move forward without me."
"That's not true. We just need time. Tensions are high right now and everyone's still—"
"Processing," Emily interrupts petulantly. "Yeah. I know. So you're dis-inviting me from prom?"
"We're not dis-inviting you. You can still go to prom. In fact, I hope you do come."
"I just can't go with you guys."
"I'm sorry, Em. We're just trying to avoid any awkwardness." Spencer looks truly apologetic and Emily feels a little bad for being so huffy with her.
"Did Alison say something? Did she tell you guys she doesn't want me there?" Emily asks desperately.
"No," Spencer starts, shaking her head for emphasis. "Ali wasn't at lunch today, but some of us feel that you being there might not be the best idea right now."
"Is 'some of you' Aria?" Emily questions, unable to shake the feeling that the petite brunette was likely behind this prom embargo.
Spencer's non-answer is confirmation enough for Emily.
"So does this mean Alison is going to prom?" Emily presses.
Spencer shrugs, rocking back on her heels. "Last we talked about it, she said she was planning to. Bought a dress already and everything."
Emily chews on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. She wasn't even sure she wanted to go to prom, but it still hurts to be excluded. Not just excluded, banned. She and her friends had been discussing prom since they were freshmen—when Alison had made them all make a pact to be each other's dates if one of them didn't have someone to escort them, and now she had messed up so badly that she was being intentionally removed from the plan, like some sort of cancerous tumor.
"This doesn't mean we can't hang out together at prom. In fact, you better save me dance," Spencer says, offering Emily a playful grin. "It's just with Alison being there, and after everything she's gone through, we think it'd be best if we..."
"It's fine," Emily cuts her off, not needing to hear the end of whatever lame platitude Spencer was going to feed her. "I get it. I wasn't even planning on going."
Spencer gives her a disappointed look. "Em, come on, don't be like that."
"No, Spencer, it's fine," Emily repeats as if to convince herself. She isn't lying, she had been considering skipping the dance for a while now, so she doesn't know why her chest is hurting and her eyes are burning. Maybe it's the thought that this is the last school dance they'll ever attend together and she's not going to be there. She's not going to be there to see Hanna's intentional bad dancing, or to hear Spencer's rant about the tactlessness of spiked punch and paper streamers, or to see Aria pout about not being able to dance with Ezra while the rest of the group teases her. She's going to miss out on all the silly photos she knows they're going to take, awkward prom pose included of course. She won't be apart of those memories. And she's not going to get to see Alison in her dress. She's not going to get to dance with Alison. Kiss her. Hold her. Tell her how she truly feels about her. Because she fucked everything up and she has to live with that—even if it's killing her inside.