Pretty Little Liars

Chapter 20: The Guilt Thickens

Bree gets home that day to find her front door open ajar. She slows in her footsteps, glancing in the driveway for any sign of her dad or brother but they're both scarce. She inches closer to the door, pushing it open with the toe of her boot.

"Is anyone here?" Bree calls out, hearing her voice echo through the house. She plunges her hand into her purse, clutching onto her pepper spray-- something her father made her get after Alison went missing.

"Baby?" Her mother comes rounding the corner from the kitchen wearing a crisp white sweater dress and jeans. "Hey."

Bree's brow furrows. She hasn't seen her mother in this house since her parents' divorce. Seeing her standing in the foyer is almost like seeing a ghost... mostly because Bree has been dodging her since before Alison's funeral. All of these messages from this A person is making her feel like garbage all over again. Like how Ali used to make her feel.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Bree finds herself saying instead of greeting her with a warmer welcome.

"Well it's good to see you, too." Her mother grins but her eyes look sad. "And, I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd stop by and see how you're doing."

Bree blinks. "With?"

"With Alison." Her mom reaches out to squeeze her wrist. "I was trying to get ahold of you after the funeral but you haven't returned my texts."

"It hasn't been that long."

"I know, but I want to make sure that you're holding up okay," her mom says. "You don't have to deal with it alone, you know. I'm here if you want to talk about things."

"You keep saying that," Bree snaps at her, annoyed. "And I told you that I'm fine."

"But you don't have to be fine," she pushes, almost like she knows what's going on under the surface.

Does she? There's no way she could know a thing about A. If she did, she wouldn't be standing here caring for the daughter that betrayed her. She would be heartbroken and demanding answers. And Bree would be unable to give them to her. She did what she did because in her eyes, her mother ruined their family for John. Bree wasn't about to leave her dad and Cameron just to be with her mom and her new boyfriend. It wouldn't make any sense.

"How long do you plan on staying?" Bree looks away from her, using this time to shut the door behind her. "Don't you think it'll be a little awkward when Dad comes home?"

"I thought about that, too." Her emerald green eyes glance out the front window. "Not sure if he'll be too happy to see me here."

The last time she was here, it was Christmas night and Bree and Cameron both spent the whole day with their dad. Their mother, on the other hand, drunkenly stumbled onto the front lawn and threw beer bottles at the front door, demanding to see her children. Ever since then, Bree's father never allowed her to return-- which is pretty reasonable. Neither Bree nor her brother blamed him.

"But you'll call if you need anything?"

Bree nods her head. "Thanks for stopping by."

She leaves with a parting smile and Minx finds herself alone in the foyer. She remembers the night she told Alison about her plan to make her mother look unfit to care for her. It didn't start out seriously and Alison never thought Bree would go through with any of it. They were in Ali's bedroom, flipping through magazines and folding over pages they liked, Jason's emo music blasting down the hall.

"God, feather earrings are so tacky," Alison said, oblivious to Bree's jittery nerves over having to choose one of her parents in just a couple days. She was laying on her stomach, sprawled out on the bed next to Bree, kicking her legs through the air.

"Yeah, tacky," Bree mumbled in agreement, her eyes flossing over the magazines without absorbing any of the fashion tips or in-season outfits. "Can I ask you something?"

"Please don't tell me you've been putting a tampon in the wrong way this whole time," Ali growled. "Because Dakota--"

"No, it's not that." She shifted. "Do you think I'm a bad person?"

"Only when you disagree with me." Ali winked at her. "But overall, I guess you're good. Why?"

"Because I don't want to live with my mom," she revealed, exhaling. "I just feel trapped when I'm with her. And I'd rather my dad have full custody instead of being around her."

Alison looked at her, letting the seriousness of the conversation set it. "So what do you plan on doing about that?"

"What?"

"No offense, Bree-Bree, but I refuse to hear you be a victim." Alison sat up, almost looking bored. "And even more no offense, your mom is like, not even good at raising kids. The only thing she can nurture is something out of a bottle."

"Well I have to talk with social services at some point," Bree explained, licking her lips. She fiddles with the end of her orange ponytail. "Maybe I'll tell them I want to live with my dad instead."

Ali snorted. "You think that's how it works? You're thirteen, doofus. They don't take what you want into consideration. They leave everything up to the courts. You'd have to go through great lengths to make something happen."

"Like what?" Bree watched as Ali climbed off the bed. "Fake a few bruises? Claim child abuse?"

Ali tossed her head back in laughter as she waltzed toward her dresser. "I like the way you're thinking."

"I could bring stuff up that she's done," Bree continued. She hated herself for it, but Ali's acceptance over this plan was somehow turned into adrenaline, coursing through her veins. Alison was like a drug and when someone took a hit, they couldn't stop. "You know, pictures of her drunk at holiday parties." She frowned, realizing she was going too far. "No, I can't possibly do that."

"Why not?" Ali retrieved socks from her drawer, slipping her feet into them and shooting Bree a bored look again. "That won't do anything. And besides, you're not lying, you're just retelling the truth."

Bree bit down on her bottom lip.

"You know, I know a guy that can score us some stuff," Ali said next, pursing her lips. "A few things to plant around her house. That way they have even more physical proof."

"What, like, alcohol?" Bree guessed.

"Something a little more hardcore." Ali returned to the bed, sitting on her knees. "Alcohol is legal. Cocaine and heroin, for instance, aren't."

"Ali!" Bree hissed under her breath. "My mom might be many things but she's not a drug addict."

"Social services don't know that." She smiled devilishly and then shrugged her shoulders, snatching up her magazine again. "But whatever. I knew you'd back out of it anyway. You don't have the balls to do anything that monumental." She gasps at one of the pages, showing Bree some Bravo celebrity sporting a black and white jumper. "We want?"

Bree snaps out of her memory, wincing at the pain she must have caused her mother and how Ali was so on board to encourage it.