Her hands shake as she unscrews the lid, and she watches as the pills bounce with every tremor. She swirls the bottle around, mesmerized by the small, orange capsules. She knows it isn't healthy, but she feels as if there's no other way. There's just so much going on, and without it, she won't be able to function.

She pours the pills into her hand. Her usual, non-prescription dosage has lost its edge, so she pops a couple more for good measure. She thinks about what her parents or friends would say if they saw her, what Toby would say if he saw her. She can't think about that. It provokes guilt. She doesn't want to feel any worse about what she's doing, and who she's hurting.

She tosses them back and with a swig of water, they're gone.

So is the guilt.

She throws the pills back into her bag, and hopes that the medication will kick in in time for her AP French midterm, which starts in 45 minutes. She's unsure of how her body will react to the new dosage, but she doesn't care. She figures it has to be better than the constant inattention and forgetfulness she's been experiencing. But who could blame her? Between her current lead in the investigation of A, midterms, and extracurriculars, she's surprised she can remember her own name.

"Spencer?"

Her head snaps up, hearing him call her. She's sitting in her room, at her desk, yet she doesn't even remember coming home. She doesn't really remember much of that day, except the pills. Those little orange pills that seem to have had so much power lately.

"Did you hear what I said?"

She groans a little, wiping her hand over her face. She's beyond tired, and she's worried that he can tell.

"Um, no. Sorry," she mutters, and Toby can hear the exhaustion in her voice.

"Do you want to grab something to eat?"

She looks down at her watch and realizes it's been just over ten hours since her last meal. If you would call a granola bar and two bites of an apple a meal.

"I'm not hungry."

"Is everything okay?" he asks, and her heart begins to race.

"Of course," she lies. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know, you tell me. When was the last time you had a decent meal? Or the last time you got a full night's sleep?"

"Last night."

Another lie.

Toby just sighs. "I'm not even going to try to pry, because it's obvious that you don't want to talk about it. But if it's something serious, please talk to me."

"I will."

"Do you want me stay over tonight?"

"Well, I'm certainly not going to stop you," she tells him, which causes him to smile. "But I should warn you, it's going to be a late night."

His smile falls. "Spencer," he cautions.

"It's just, I have this French exam tomorrow and-"

"I thought that was today?"

"Sorry, I-I meant Lit."

He gives her a disapproving look, and she knows he's wary.

"Look, don't be mad, but there's been a huge break in the A case and I'm so close to piecing everything together."

"Is that what you've been doing every night?"

"No," she lies, but it's not very convincing. She's too tired to put any more energy into the conversation, so she closes her laptop and leans back in her chair. She can feel herself dozing off, but she can't. She has too much to do. She's so close to figuring out who A is. Just a few more stories to decipher from Ali's journal and it'll all make sense.

"Do you want to call it a night?" he asks when she lets out a rather large yawn. He hopes it's enough to convince her how tired she really is.

She nods sleepily, before she can even think.

"Okay," he smiles, relieved she's willing to give things a rest. "I'm going to make you some tea. Hopefully it'll help you sleep."

Spencer smiles back at him and gives him a quick kiss before he leaves the room. She waits to make sure that he's completely out of the room before grabbing the bottle from her bag. Guilt washes over her as she realizes what she's about to do. Her boyfriend is downstairs, he could walk in on her at any moment, and she doesn't want to upset or worry him anymore. She can already see the look of disappointment that would cast over his face, and it only fuels her guilt.

Before she can change her mind, she pops a couple of the pills and shoves the bottle back into her bag. She hopes that Toby will fall asleep before the medication has a chance to kick in, granting her time to continue with the A investigation.

She walks into her bathroom to get ready for bed, and feels the exhaustion overwhelm her. She feels dizzy, flushed, and feels herself start to shake. It's not something she's experienced before while using the medication, so she starts to worry, hoping that Toby won't be coming up anytime soon.

Her frame shakes as she leans her weight up against the bathroom counter. The marble feels cool against her skin, and she soon finds her cheek on the smooth surface. She lets out a shaky sigh, trying her best to ride out whatever this new side effect may be.

"Hey."

Of course, she thinks. Of course.

"I'm gonna put the cup on your desk, alright?"

No answer.

"Spencer?"

He walks further into the room, and notices the half-closed bathroom door.

"You decent?' he jokes before pushing open the door. But his smile fades when he sees her, still pressed up against the marble counter.

"Spence?"

She tries to lift her head, but she can't, and it only worries Toby more. He comes up beside her, and wraps his arms around her trembling frame.

"What's wrong?"

Spencer just shakes her head. How can she explain to him what she's going through? How can she tell him what she's done?

"I think I just really need to sleep," she tells him. It isn't a total lie, but she knows it's going to take a lot more than just a night's worth of sleep to fix her problems.

"Come here," he soothes, and brings her over to her bed. He grabs her tea off of her desk and carefully hands her the cup, watching as the mug trembles with her hand.

"Are you alright?"

His question prompts her to laugh. "What even is alright anymore?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. No, I can't."

He gives her a disapproving look, but knows not to push the issue. She'll come around on her own- he doesn't want to pry and upset her even more than she already seems to be.

She hands the mug back to him before leaning back into the pillows. His arms wrap tightly around her, partly to protect her, partly in an effort to stop her tremors. He's extremely worried, but he doesn't even know how to begin to help her.

"I love you," he says, kissing the top of her head. He hopes that she'll be able to fall asleep in no time, but she knows otherwise.

"Try and get some sleep, babe."

"I can't," she whispers, and he sighs.

"Spencer."

"I'm sorry."

"Promise me you'll try?"

She shrugs. That's all she can give him. She can't promise anything, because she knows how this night will go. Just like every other night.

Spencer listens to the steady rhythm of his breathing. He's been asleep for the past hour, yet she's just lying there, unable to sleep. She's thankful he's a heavy sleeper, and gently slips out of bed without making a sound. She quickly grabs her bag and heads downstairs, hoping he'll remain asleep.

A new wave of fatigue hits her as she sits down at the kitchen counter, and she decides to pop another pill, hoping it will help her to focus. She heats up the remnants of that morning's pot of coffee and gets to work, pulling out the pages she's copied from Ali's journal.

The words blur together, her eyes clouded over with sleep. She traces under the lines with her index finger, helping ease the strain on her tired eyes, and lets out a sigh of relief when she hears the ding of the microwave. Time for some liquid energy.

She takes a big gulp, relishing the taste as the warm liquid slides down her throat. Coffee's her savior, and while she knows it'll only fuel her jitters and irritability, she doesn't care. She needs to stay awake; she needs to finish the puzzle.

Hours pass as she continues to flip through the pages of Ali's journal. She's held up by a few of the stories, and half of her wants to disregard them. Yet for some reason, something's telling her that they're important, but she can't figure out why.

Soon, it's 4 am and Spencer can't stay awake any longer. Defeated, she shoves the journal into her bag and plops down on the chaise in front of the fire. It probably isn't smart for her to start it before falling asleep, but she doesn't care. She's freezing, and she hopes the warmth of the flames will help relax her if even for a little bit.

It doesn't take long for her to doze off, and before she knows it, she's woken by a gentle nudge. She immediately sits up in the chair, still on edge. Despite being able to sleep for a couple of hours, she's as anxious and exhausted as ever, and she hopes that her boyfriend won't pick up on it.

But he does.

"How late were you up?" he asks her, and she can tell he's worried.

She tries to lie. "I, uh, came down here a little after you feel asleep. My room was too hot, and I thought it'd be cooler down here."

Toby gives her a disapproving look. "And you thought the best way to cool off was to sleep in front of a fire?"

"I-"

"Spencer, what were you doing up so late? Were you reading through Ali's journal again?"

"N-no, I-"

"Don't lie to me," he tells her, and she flinches at the tone of his voice. "Where is it?"

"Toby-"

"Even from the grave, Alison is still torturing you. You're a mess, Spencer, and I'm tired of seeing you this way."

"It's not a big deal. I'm fine."

"Are you though?" he asks, and walks over to the kitchen. He starts rifling through her bag, trying to get to the journal, and Spencer's heart begins to race. The pills- she'd forgotten she'd put the pills back in her purse.

"Toby, stop," she tells him, running into the kitchen. She grabs onto the strap, trying to rip the purse from his hands, and the contents spill all over the floor. She hears a loud shatter and presses her eyes shut. Maybe when she opens them it will be gone, and he wouldn't have seen anything. But he does. Of course he does.

"What the hell is this?"

"It's nothing," she blurts out, bending down to salvage the pills. Toby reaches out his hand and grabs onto her wrist.

"Spencer, do not lie to me. What is going on?"

"Nothing," she tells him, but her voice breaks, convincing him otherwise.

"What are these?" he asks, turning a pill over in his hand.

"They help me focus."

It's not a complete lie.

"Adderall?"

Spencer flinches at the anger in his voice. She tries to grab what's left of the pills and walk away, but he's faster. Much faster.

"Give them to me," he demands, but her fist remains clenched.

"Spencer. Now."

She reluctantly hands them over, her hands shaking with fear. Or was it from the caffeine and medication?

"Why wouldn't you tell me about this?"

"You didn't need to know," she whispers, trying to keep her composure. But she can't, and soon the tears start to fall.

"I didn't need to-" he booms, but he can't finish his sentence. He's too upset; too angry, too worried.

"You didn't think to ask for help?"

Her voice breaks. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Look me in the eyes right now and tell me that this isn't serious. No, you know what? Even better. Go look at yourself in the mirror right now and tell yourself that this isn't serious."

"It's not that bad," she cries, but it's not convincing. They both know it's a lie, and she soon finds herself sitting on the kitchen floor, her arms wrapped around her knees. She's shaking, and she doesn't know if it's from the unrestrained sobs, the fear, or the concoction of pills and coffee, but she can't seem to stop.

Toby's anger dissipates into sadness, seeing her like this. He's not used to this, it's not like her. She's generally the rational, composed one. Not him.

He bends down to her eye level, trying to get her to look at him, but she won't. She's too ashamed to look him in the eyes.

"Spencer," he says, and the sadness in his voice is enough to send her over the edge. She releases a loud, shaky sob and thrusts herself forward into his arms.

"I'm so sorry."

Toby just holds her. He doesn't know what else to do, or what else to say.

"I-I," she tries to talk to him, but she can't. It's not like he'll be able to understand her anyway.

"Shh, it's okay," he soothes, but it's not working.

"No, it's not!" she yells, causing him to jump back.

"How is this okay? Please, tell me. Humor me."

"Spencer-"

"Weren't you just the one telling me that this is a problem? That this is serious?"

"I want to help you."

She just laughs. "I can't be helped."

"Why would you even say that?"

"This isn't the first time this has happened," she tells him, and he feels his heart break all over again.

"When?" he asks. It's all he can say.

"The summer that Ali disappeared," she mutters.

"Do your parents know?"

She begins to panic. "Toby, no. Please, you can't tell them," she begs, and she's crying again.

"You need help, Spencer."

"Telling my parents is the exact opposite of helping."

"If it's happened before, they'll know what to do to get you the right help."

"Toby," she sobs. "You can't."

"I don't know what else to do."

"I can stop," she tells him. "I'll just stop taking the medication. I'll be fine."

"You can't be serious."

"What?"

"Spencer, you're taking amphetamines. This is a serious drug! You're not going to be able to quit cold turkey. Even if you do, I don't want to see you go through that."

"I've done it before," she tries to argue, but he doesn't buy it.

"Yeah, and how was that?"

She's silent, and they both know he's won.

"I can't talk about this anymore," she tells him, standing up from her spot. She runs her hands through her hair, trying to brush out any kinks or knots, and tries to walk out the door.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"School," she tells him, her voice still shaky.

"I think you should take the day off," he tells her, but she shakes her head.

"I have a midterm today. I can't miss it."

"Spencer," he warns, but he can tell she's telling the truth.

"I'll come home straight after school, okay? Will you be here?"

"Of course."

He gives her a sad smile as he watches her walk out the door, and he sighs. He knows what he has to do, and he knows she's not going to be happy. But he's worried about her, and her health is far more important.

She pulls up to her house, nervous as to what she'll walk in on. Will Toby force her to talk about what he saw that morning? Will he drop it? His truck is parked outside, so she assumes the worst. With a deep sigh, she jumps out of her car and makes her way into the house.

"Toby, I know you probably want to talk about this morning, but-" But she can't finish. Her heart races at the sight of her three friends, sitting at the breakfast bar in front of her.

"What the hell is this?" she asks, and Toby knows she's angry.

"An intervention."

Spencer laughs.

"I don't see why you think is funny."

Emily.

Her voice is cold, something Spencer's not used to hearing. It shuts her up real quick.

"I know that Toby's concerned, but seriously, it's nothing. I'm sorry he brought you guys into this."

"Stop. This is a big deal, okay?"

"You guys, seriously. I'm fine."

Lies.

"Reality check, Spencer? You look like shit," Hanna tells her, and she flinches.

"I appreciate your input, but I didn't ask for it," she shoots back.

"Spencer, stop, okay? We're all really worried about you. So could you just chill for, like, five minutes and tell us what the hell is going on?"

She lets out a deep sigh, and reaches into her bag to pull out Ali's journal.

"You're still working through this?" Aria asks her, and Spencer just nods.

"There are a couple of stories that I'm still trying to figure out, but I'm so close."

"You need to take a break, Spence."

"I can't."

"Spencer," she cautions, but it's no use.

"This person has been torturing us for two years, Aria. Don't even try to tell me that you don't want to put an end to this bullshit.

"Of course I do," she answers. "But this isn't the way to do it. And I hope you know that."

"Well, you know what they say about hope. It breeds eternal misery."

"God, Spencer. Just stop."

She jumps. She's not used to seeing her tiny friend this upset.

"We're all worried sick about you, and you're acting like this is no big deal. And, quite frankly, you're being a real bitch about it," Hanna all but yells at her.

"There is nothing wrong!" she shouts, and her friend lets out a sigh.

"Hand over the pills."

"I gave them to Toby this morning," she tells her, but her friends can tell she's not being entirely truthful.

"I know you have more."

"Well, I don't, okay?"

"You were late to English this morning. Tell me, were you studying, or replacing your stash?"

"Leave," she orders, and everyone's eyes widen.

"Spencer," Emily soothes, but Hanna interrupts her.

"No, Em. Just forget it. Come on."

She glares at her friend before the three girls leave the house. Toby stays in the kitchen, and looks at his girlfriend in disbelief.

"What the hell was that?"

"I-I don't know," she whispers, and a tear falls down her cheek.

"You need help, Spencer. Actual, professional help."

"No."

"I'm not going to continue to sit here and watch you deteriorate."

"I'm sorry," she whispers. She doesn't know what else to say.

But he wasn't having it. "I've heard that one before."

"Are you going to give up on me?" she cries, and his face softens.

"I would never do that," he tells her with such conviction, he almost sounds angry.

"What's happening to me?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to help you, okay? Whatever it takes, I'm going to be here for you."

"Toby, no. This is my mess, not yours."

"What's yours is mine, right?" he asks, and a she gives him a small smile.

"Where are the pills?"

Her hand shakes as she reaches into her bag, before pulling out a full bottle.

"Spencer," he whispers, and his voice breaks.

"I'm sorry."

"Is this all of them?"

She nods her head, but he's doubtful.

"You don't have a few stashed in a drawer somewhere?"

She shakes her head, lying. She needs those.

"How will I know you're not buying more at school?"

"I don't think they'll let me out of their sight. I'm probably going to be assigned a bathroom buddy after that episode."

"If I catch you with these again, I will tell your parents."

"Understood," she tells him. She goes to reach for the journal on the countertop, but stops short when she realizes that it's gone.

"Toby, where's the book?"

"What?"

She's frantic now. "The journal! Where's Ali's journal?"

"I gave it to Emily."

"Why? Why would you do that?"

"Why are you the only one that can read through it? They're plenty capable of deciphering what's left."

"What the hell? Toby, I was so close. Why would you do that?"

"You're not going to get any better if you're constantly obsessing over that stupid book."

"It's not stupid. It has all the answers."

"You need to give your brain a rest, Spence. The more you obsess over Ali's journal, the more tempted you'll be to use again."

She sighs. She hates when he's right. "Now what?"

He gives her a grim smile. They both know what the next step is, and neither one is particularly excited about it. To be quite honest, Toby is terrified. From what he's researched, amphetamine withdrawal isn't pleasant, and some users fall back into the habit, trying to ease the symptoms. He hopes that between himself and her friends, they'll be enough, but he's not sure. He knows the next few weeks are going to be hell, and they are.

Her body shakes, and she feels like she's going to be sick. It's been five days since she's stopped taking the pills, and she's regretted every second of it. It would be so much easier to just give in. She's sure she'd be able to find another way to get the medication, but she can't risk anyone finding out. She doesn't want her parents to know. She can't be sent away to a clinic. She tries to convince herself that she doesn't need it.

Her breathing becomes rapid, and she can feel another wave of anxiety wash over her. It's crushing. Suffocating. She's already prone to it, but the withdrawal has made it worse.

"You okay?" Toby asks her. He knows it's a dumb question, but he's not sure what else to say. It's killing him to see her like this.

She nods, still trying to steady her breathing. He can tell she's lying. She's trying so hard to stay calm. It's obvious Toby's worried, and she feels so guilty.

"I don't expect you to be strong right now."

She leans her head on his shoulder and he feels her cool, clammy skin against his own. Her breathing is still shallow, and Toby's worried it's the start of yet another anxiety attack.

"Spence, can you look at me?" he asks, his voice soft.

She continues to shake, but tries her best to meet his eyes. She looks worried, scared. Exhausted. It breaks his heart.

"Focus on your breathing," he coaches, and talks her through a few deep breaths. He's witnessed plenty of these in the past, so he knows what works best for her.

"Remind me why I stopped?" she whispers.

"Because you are so much better than those pills. You're handling this really well, and you'll feel better once it's out of your system."

She nods her head, but is still skeptical. She's been through a withdrawal before, and knows how terrible it is. She doesn't ever see this coming to an end, even though, eventually, she knows she'll see the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Are you feeling better?"

Again, she nods. "Less anxious," she answers. "Thank you."

He smiles at her. "I'm glad. Do you want to try to eat something?"

Truthfully, she was starving. Toby is aware of increased appetite being a possible side effect, but he hasn't seen her eat this much in a while. Of course, it seems like a lot compared to the minimal amounts she ate while taking the Adderall.

He makes her a large bowl of soup, and hands her a plate of crackers. He knows she'll need more than that, but her ability to hold down food has been hit and miss. She hadn't experienced this in the past, so she's frustrated, but Toby keeps reminding her that it will all be over soon. That it's just a part of the process.

"Can I please have something else?" she asks after polishing off the bowl. He gently shakes his head, and instructs her to wait for her stomach to settle before trying to eat anything else. She's starving, and she's annoyed.

"I honestly don't even care if I get sick, I need food."

He sighs and watches as she reheats a plate of Chinese food Toby ordered the night before. Unsurprisingly, she wolfs it down, and rinses the plate off before sitting down next to her boyfriend.

"Feel better?" he asks and she nods.

"Not as hungry. But still a bit shaky."

"Are you cold?"

She shakes her head. "I think I just need to lie down."

He nods and helps her up the stairs, and into her room.

"Are you…feeling okay?" he asks, not exactly knowing how to phrase the question.

She curls up in her bed before giving him a questioning look. "Um, in what regards?"

"I read online that you can experience severe depression during withdrawal. Are you…?"

"It didn't happen last time. I doubt it'll happen this time."

"You also didn't have a problem holding your food down last time, but now," he trails off.

"I don't want you to have to worry about that."

"But I am going to worry about it," he tells her. "I know you've had a history with it in the past, so of course I'm going to worry."

She's silent.

"Please tell me if it changes, okay? We can take you into a doctor, something we should've done anyway."

"No, we can't. If we do that, my parents will find out and I can't have that happen," she argues, and he can tell she's starting to panic.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he soothes, running a hand through her matted hair. "Technically, though, you are 18. You're not a minor anymore, so they wouldn't have to know."

She laughs. "Rosewood's a small town, Toby. Everyone knows everything about everybody."

"Aren't there laws against that? Patient protection laws?"

"Yeah, well when your mom's Veronica Hastings, those laws are nonexistent."

"Hasn't she noticed what's been going on? She hasn't recognized the symptoms?"

"Oh, I think she has. But she doesn't want to admit what's going on. And god forbid I tarnish our family's 'perfect reputation.' Again."

"That's not right," he tells her. She knows he's angry.

"Did you expect anything less? My mom practically tried to drag me out of Radley because she was too worried about what her friends at the club would think if they found out about me. Never mind the fact that I thoroughly believed I had nothing left to live for and was ready to end my life. Apparently mental health is a nonexistent subject in the Hastings household."

He flinches at her last comment, but Spencer's too upset to notice what she just said.

"Try and get some rest, okay? You need the sleep. I know you're exhausted.

She nods sleepily and, unsurprisingly, she's asleep within minutes. Toby sighs with relief. It's the most at peace he's seen her in a while, and he hopes that things will continue to get better.

It's been a week and half, and Spencer can't take it anymore. The depression is crippling. She hadn't expected to deal with it this time around, but of course, she is. She's too afraid to tell Toby, but she feels he's already noticed.

And he has.

He feels helpless, watching her go through this. He doesn't know the full extent of it- she's too afraid to tell him- but he's still incredibly worried nonetheless.

She hardly sleeps. Instead, she spends her nights staring emptily up at the ceiling, for hours on end. She's exhausted, but wide awake at the same time. There's not enough sleep in the world to cure the exhaustion she's feeling. She finds herself crying, and mostly for no reason at all. Her chest aches, it throbs. It feels so hollow, like there's a hole where her heart used to be. She recognizes all of the signs, all of the symptoms, but she doesn't want to acknowledge it. This won't last too long, she convinces herself. It's part of the withdrawal process.

But it doesn't make it any easier.

She pulls her knees up to her chest, hoping the contact will bring her a sense of comfort. Toby's gone to work for the day, despite his wishes. It took a lot of convincing on Spencer's end, including one hell of an acting job. She wanted to persuade him that she was okay, even though it couldn't be further from the truth, and now she berates herself, wishing he wouldn't have left. His presence makes her whole again, almost as if temporarily patching up the empty cavity in her chest.

Spencer feels the first of many tears slide down her pale cheek, and she wishes now more than ever that she wouldn't have taken that first pill. It wasn't worth it. The nausea, the dizzy spells, the crippling anxiety, the god awful depression, none of it was worth the weeks spent rifling through Ali's journal. It's not like she pieced anything together anyway. And, like Toby said, why is she the only one capable of reading it?

Out of desperation, she picks up her iPhone, ready to call her boyfriend. She wants him- needs him. She waits impatiently for him to pick up, but is confused when she hears someone else's voice on the other end.

"Spencer," Hanna sighs with relief. She hasn't heard from her friend in days. She hasn't been in school, she won't answer her phone, and neither would Toby.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry, I thought I dialed Toby's number," she confesses. She must have accidentally clicked on "Banana" (Spencer's nickname for Hanna since the seventh grade), instead of "Babe." "I'll let you go."

"No, wait," Hanna interrupts. "How are you?" she asks, her voice filled with concern.

"I've been better."

Hanna's seen her friend go through a similar depressive cycle in the past, and it suddenly dawns on her why Spencer's been trying to call Toby: she's alone.

"Do you want me to come over?" she asks. She sounds extremely concerned.

"After how I've acted, I'm surprised you're even speaking to me," she whispers.

"I'm really worried about you, Spence."

"I'm sorry."

The line is silent for several seconds, and it's long enough to remind Spencer of the pain she's in.

"I'll be over soon," her friend promises her. "Hang tight."

Spencer hears the click on the other end, and her phone drops from her hand onto the bed. Every emotion, every ache, every pain, rushes to her. It's almost as if her mind's aware her friend is coming over, and is forcing it all out of her before she arrives.

She takes a shaky, steadying breath, and drags herself out of bed. She walks into her en suite bathroom, and flinches when she looks at herself in the mirror. Her hair is an absolute mess, tangled beyond repair. Her eyes are bloodshot from all of the tears, and her eyes look empty. She looks empty. She considers cleaning up a bit before Hanna shows up, but decides against it. It would require too much energy.

Not even a few moments later, Spencer can hear an urgent knock on the door downstairs. She flinches. She isn't expecting Hanna for another fifteen minutes.

"That was fast," she says when she opens the door.

Hanna gives her a sheepish smile. "I was kind of already on my way when you called."

She looks at her, confused.

"I told you, I'm worried about you."

Spencer's bottom lip begins to tremble, prompting her friend to all but throw her arms around her.

"I'm here for you, Spence," she soothes, holding her as her body shakes with sobs.

She hasn't experienced this much pain in such a long time. It was something she'd never expected to endure again- something her loved ones prayed would never happen again.

But here they are.

"Why did I do this to myself?"

Hanna's heart breaks. She's not used to seeing Spencer this vulnerable, and she's almost in tears herself.

"Don't focus on that. You've taken such a huge step in trying to solve the problem. Focus on that instead."

"Toby's right: even from the grave, Alison continues to control me."

"Hey," Hanna whispers, "you did what any one of us would've done. I mean, we would've probably gone about it in a different way, but I don't blame you for doing what you did."

"I feel like such an idiot."

"Don't. It's done, it's over with. It's not like you can go back and change it. But you can prevent it from happening again."

Spencer pulls back from her friend and gives her a small smile. "Thanks," she sniffles.

Hanna returns the smile and leads her over to the couch. She takes her friend's pale, clammy hand in her own.

"How's the journal investigation going?" Spencer asks, but Hanna just shakes her head.

"You don't need to worry about that right now."

"It's all I can think about," she whispers truthfully. When her mind isn't occupied, it always seems to wander back to it. "Have you guys made any progress?"

"Spencer-"

"Hanna, please," she begs.

Her friend sighs. "Yeah, we have. Um, Em was able to pick out a web address. Caleb's been trying to hack into it all day."

Spencer perks up a bit. "Any luck?"

"He's getting close. A lot closer than any of us would've gotten. He thinks he'll be in by the end of the night."

"Then what?"

Hanna shrugs. "We don't know yet."

Spencer lets out a defeated sigh and sinks back into the couch. She runs her hands through her hair, pressing her palms into her temples- something she always does when she's stressed.

"You don't need to worry about this right now, okay?"

"I just want this nightmare to be over with."

"Which part?"

"All of it," Spencer whispers. "I'm so tired of living a life of fear. I'm afraid of A, I'm terrified of myself. Every step we've taken to stay safe, A's ahead of us. They've hurt every single one of us. Physically, mentally, emotionally. They've hurt our family, our friends, Toby…" she trails off.

"It just-" she pauses, swallowing the lump in her throat. "It hurts so much."

Hanna's heard this before, and it worries her. "What does?" she coaxes.

Spencer lets out a sad laugh. "Uh, all of it."

"A lot of this will go away once we figure out who A is."

"Yeah, a lot of it will. But not nearly enough."

Hanna's quiet. She doesn't know what to say, so Spencer continues.

"The schoolwork, the pressure to follow exactly in Melissa's footsteps, my over-obsessive need to be perfect, the addictions, A's aftermath: it's just too much right now, and I don't ever see it going away. I'm going to have to live with the trauma from all of this for the rest of my life, and I don't know if I want to."

"Spence," her friend whispers, heartbroken.

"I'm pretty messed up," she whispers back, fighting the tears that sting the corners of her eyes.

"But you're not. Spencer, what you're feeling is completely normal for anyone under the amount of pressure you've been under."

"I don't see anyone else falling apart like this."

"It doesn't help that you've suffered from these feelings in the past. Or that the drug you're withdrawing from just happens to have 'extreme depression' as a side effect. But you can't give up."

"I'm so tired, Hanna," she exclaims, and a tear rolls down her cheek.

The blonde feels her heart break. Spencer's voice seems so empty, emotionless. It's like she's already given up.

"Spence, this will get better," she tells her fiercely.

The girls stare at each other for a moment, and Hana watches as Spencer bites furiously on her bottom lip. She knows how hard she's trying to be strong right now and it kills her. It kills her to see her like this, and she almost feels helpless.

"Spencer?"

"Everything hurts so much right now," she cries, leaning into her friend. "Why did I do this to myself?"

"Everything will be better soon," Hanna tries to soothe her, but she's not convinced.

"You know what's so fucked up about all of this? It'll probably happen again."

"Don't think like that."

"I told myself it would never happen again three years ago, but here I am."

"It doesn't have to be that way," Hanna tells her. She's trying to be hopeful-optimistic- but she can tell it's going to take a lot more convincing.

"Spencer, I've seen you go through some pretty heavy stuff over the years, some related to what you're going through now," she says, referencing her past struggles with mental illness, "and you've always pulled through. Every single time. Whether it be by leaps and bounds, or by the skin of your teeth, you've always made it to the other side. I know you can do it again. It's going to take a lot of work on your end, and a lot of support on ours, but you can bet your ass we'll be here with you the entire way. Relapse or not."

"You didn't seem that way earlier," she tells her, in tears. She thoroughly believed that her friends gave up on her.

"We were all just extremely worried. We weren't sure how to react. But I promise we're all here for you."

Spencer's eyes well over with fresh tears, and Hanna wraps her arms around her. She patiently waits for her to let it all out. Every tear, every sob, every scream, she's held in. She's never seen her so distraught. It scares her tremendously, but she just holds onto her, rubbing a gentle hand up and down her back.

"Dammit!," Spencer yells. She's angry, and she's determined. She suddenly jumps up from the couch and stumbles up the stairs, her eyes clouded over by tears.

"Spencer!" Hanna yells, jumping up after her.

Upstairs, Spencer paws through her desk, dumping out the contents of every drawer. She completely forgot about the stashed handful of pills she bought from Andrew. Now more than ever, she needs to get rid of them.

"What the hell are you doing?" Hanna asks, standing in Spencer's doorway. Her eyes narrow in on the small plastic bag of orange pills in her right hand, and she's furious.

"Take them," Spencer demands, shoving them into her friend's hands.

"I thought you'd already given the rest to Toby?"

"Yeah, well, I lied," she mumbles, embarrassed. "Those were the last of them."

"You were planning on using these, weren't you?" Hanna asks, disappointed.

"I was going to take one or two to pull an all-nighter for our History test, but it's not worth it."

Hanna smiles at her, her anger dissipating. Sure, she's upset that she lied to her friends about being rid of her stash, but the fact that she's willingly giving up the rest is a huge improvement for her.

She hands the bag back to Spencer, who gives her a beyond-confused look for the gesture.

"Uh…"

"I figured you should do the honors," she tells her and shrugs.

Spencer smiles ever so slightly. She crosses the threshold into her bathroom and throws the toilet lid open, dumping the five pills into the water.

"You don't control me anymore," she all but yells, slamming her hand down on the lever. She watches as the pills swirl around the drain, and lets out a sob of relief once they're gone. Out of the entire withdrawal process, that, to her, has been the most difficult part. Taking back what little control she has left in her life. She knows the war is far from over, but with Toby and her friends by her side, she feels a lot more optimistic. She can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Let me know what you think :3