"What a wicked game you played to make me feel this way."
Jo Jameson doesn't need help. At least that's what she tells everyone.
Following the disappearance of her best friend, she's made a lot of changes - be it from the hair dye or the...
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"And you're a liar. At least all of your friends are."
"I think I'm going to be sick," Emily had said. "We were just little girls in these. Naked and exposed. Vulnerable."
They were all horrified as they had huddled closely on Emily's bed, watching what twisted piece of history had been found at Raymond Plus Storage. It was waiting for them to be neatly unwrapped in a tin lunchbox like a cruel gift from beyond the grave.
They couldn't make it through all of them, their stomachs too gentle and weak. But not Jo's. Not for that reason, at least. She hadn't expected what was on that flash drive when they plugged it in. She was aware of the videos—even starred in some—but had no idea why Alison would have them. She thought all that time Ian Thomas had something that could ruin her—the reason she'd been so careful not to cross wires with him and the bride of Frankenstein, Melissa—but it was Alison DiLaurentis that had made away with the stolen gold.
So, there was their reason. The reason why their best friend was laid to rest at the tender age of fifteen and taken from the world all too soon. Alison was playing games too big for herself and it had come back to her in a deadly form of regret. She took something that got her killed and Ian Thomas was walking free because of it.
"Well, we all know who had a thing for younger girls," Spencer had whispered hauntingly when Aria wanted to know who could've been filming. They all had looked at each other, letting her words ignite a fight about what they should do first: confront Jenna who wanted the videos or take them to the police.
Jo kept silent. It was an even vote and without her voice, they had no tiebreaker. She played it off as something she needed to sleep on. Come morning she'd give them her answer and they would go forward. But in all honesty, she needed time. She needed time to figure out how she was to save herself in this fight for justice.
They all let her have her way as they curled up together, fighting for space to sleep on the small queen bed, and rested uneasily. She'd laid there quietly for some time until she was sure their steady breathing was from unconsciousness before grabbing Emily's laptop and locking herself in the bathroom down the hall.
She turned on the computer and flipped through the folders of the flash drive. There were dozens of them, each labeled with a short and cryptic name, either by date or initials. She scrolled until she got to a folder labeled LITTLE J. She knew it had to be her, and she was thankful her friends never made it that far; there was no telling what laid inside.
As Jo clicked the folder, thirteen little videos appeared on her screen. She opened the first one, biting down her lip as she watched the video of her strip-teasing the boys next door.
She flipped to the next one, a video of her in the hot tub behind Garrett's house. There were seven people in the video, including herself, the boys of the club, and three tipsy sorority girls. The camera was focusing on the water droplets rolling down the small red bikini top that hugged her chest. Jo watched herself giggle before reaching outside the hot tub for something.
