Chapter 3
“I don’t think the others are happy to have me back,” Alison says in a soft voice that sounded sad. She knew she sounded sad and probably pathetic by how Emily’s face softened. She couldn’t even bring herself to feel embarrassed.
She needed her friends. She had been home for a few weeks now and she wasn’t any less miserable. She saw Emily a lot. She saw Hanna a few times—the other blonde was friendly but there was a barrier keeping her from fully accepting her back. Aria had been withdrawing, but she understood. Aria killed someone and it weighed on her, even though the person was ready to shoot them with a gun. And Spencer, well Ali barely saw her and couldn’t get a read on the new leader of the group.
Home life wasn’t much better. Her mother still barely spoke to her, she barely even looked at her. Jason had been great, but she didn’t like the pity she got from him constantly. He was too protective, more parental than brotherly. But she didn’t want him to stop either. She needed someone to care for her. After all, she was still a child in the eyes of the law and if her care was in just her mother’s hand, things wouldn’t go well. As for her father, he had shown up a few times, mainly to argue with her mother, insult Jason or try to forcefully take her. Jessica always threatened to call Tanner, but she never actually did, which is why he always came back with something to do or say. Alison wasn’t surprised at her mother’s lack of actual defense. Someone hit her on the head and instead of calling an ambulance she chose to bury her in the backyard.
“They just need time. We thought you were dead for two years, Ali. Everyone's happy you’re alive, trust me. It's just a lot to adjust to. And with Ezra in the hospital and Shana dead, it’s a lot to process.”
“You’re here.”
“I don’t need a lot of time to process.” Emily smiles at her. “I think I was the only one who never fully moved on after you’re funeral.”
“Part of me wishes you had so you could have been happier. The other part is glad you didn’t because I need you. You and Jason are all I have.” Alison hated feeling vulnerable. Emily was one of the few people she could be vulnerable to. “They still need me to go in for an exam.”
“For your head?”
“For everything. A full exam. I haven’t seen a doctor in years, and I lived out there on my own the whole time. I don’t want to go. They want to make sure I wasn’t...hurt in any way out there.”
“Were you? Hurt?”
“I was barely fifteen, out there in that big scary world with no one. That made me an easy target.” She thinks of the various cuts and bruises she had received, some leaving scars. Scars that made her go from a scared barely fifteen-year-old to an adult overnight. She had been robbed, betrayed, tricked, beaten, exposed, assaulted. She had experienced things she never should have had to.
“Easy target for what, Ali?” Emily asked, fishing for answers. The look on her face told Alison that she feared the answer.
“Everything anyone has it up for grabs out there. Everyone's desperate. Clothing, blankets, food. Anyone can take what they want if they’re stronger than you.” Including your body, she thinks but doesn’t say it aloud. “It’s not a good place for a kid to be alone in. I thought I was invincible,” the forced laugh has no humor to it, “turns out I was anything but. I may have been tough and scary here in Rosewood, but out there, I was nothing more than a scared little girl with nowhere to go and no one to turn to.”
“I think you’re one of the strongest people I've ever met.”
“Thanks, Em.” This time her teary smile was genuine.
Emily rubbed a hand on her arm comfortingly. She was almost thankful for her tears. Tears welled in her eyes when her hand brushed against the bruises her father had left on her upper arm when he dug his fingers into her flesh like talons, trying to take her with him. Emily didn’t notice because she was already crying, and for that she was grateful. If she could spare her best friend from the horrors she faced, she would do everything she could to do so.
****
Alison was standing in her backyard, staring down at the ground. It was grassy now and undisturbed. Anyone looking in would see no difference between this grassy patch to the rest of the large yard, but Alison knew. What's now just an ordinary lawn was her own personal grave. She's standing in the same spot she once stood in, facing the big window. She was standing right here, and her mother was standing inside at that window. And then she was hit. It felt like a lifetime ago and like yesterday all at once.
She hears soft footfalls approaching. She knows it’s not Jason, she had memorized his steps by now.
“Alison?” Alison didn’t look up from the grass even when she heard her mother’s uncertain voice. “It’s time to get ready for dinner.”
“Why?” is all she mustered.
“Why what, Ali?”
“Why did you do it?”
“Alison?” her voice faltered.
“Why did you bury me alive?” She looks at her mother now, blue eyes full of tears threatening to fall. “Why did you do that?”
Jessica takes steps closer, reaching out. Alison stumbles away from her. Alison sees now that Jessica truly thought her child didn’t remember what had happened to her. Alison herself wished she didn’t remember.
“I was st-standing right here,” she chokes out. Her throat was closing, her vision blurring, and she felt wetness on her face as the tears fell. “You were there,” she points at the window now illuminating the living room. A light was on inside now. She wonders if her mother flicked them on before coming out or if Jason was home from work. She hadn’t realized the sun was setting and the world was darkening. It was fitting. “I saw your face change and I was so confused but then my head hurt.”
“Ali, honey,” Jessica reaches for her again, but she took another step back.
“I woke up and I was trying to tell you I was alive, but the words wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t move, I could barely breathe. I wanted to scream but I was just frozen. You just kept throwing dirt all over me. You were crying and saying the same thing over and over again. ‘What have you done? What have you done?!’”
Jessica lurched forward towards her sobbing daughter and Alison was frozen yet again. She didn’t fight when her mother enveloped her in a hug, holding her close. She heard her mother’s rapid breaths and sobs against the top of her head. She hugged her mother back tightly, holding fistfuls of her jacket in her hands. She hadn’t realized how much she craved her mother's love until this moment.
“Why, mommy? Who are you protecting? Who is so important that you buried me alive instead of calling an ambulance?”
Jessica let her go and cupped her cheek, wiping the tears away. “It’s time now, I suppose. Your father isn’t here to stop me.”
“Time for what?” she cries.
"To talk to you and your brother the secret I've held dear for years. Your whole life, my dear. Come on,” she takes Alison’s trembling hand in her own. “We’re going to go inside and get ready for dinner. Jason will be home soon, and we’ll eat dinner--I've prepared your favorite. And then we’ll have that talk.”
“Okay,” she whispers tiredly.
Alison DiLaurentis was a lot of things. Before there was plenty of names thrown her way: confident, brave, scary, mean, bully, smart, fun, partier, slut, daredevil, sly, secretive, liar, pretty, sexy, reckless, popular. And after? The only words she might use to describe herself now was secretive, liar, and pretty. She'd add anxious, angry, hurt, and most of all, tired, to the list.
She was tired of her life, of the treatment, of her past. But most of all, she was growing tired of being Alison DiLaurentis.