Turn Your Face

Lies

A/N: This chapter includes a flashback within the flashback. It should be an obvious transition, but it is indicated with bold and italics.

Once again, hard T rating for drug abuse, light harassment, and cursing. I'm sure y'all get it, but better to be safe than sorry!

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I walked into Alison's house about 10 minutes after leaving The Brew which gave me enough time to calm myself down from yelling at Hanna. As I opened the door, I could hear Alison speaking to someone.

"Yep, I got it covered... Thanks for letting me know... Yep... Yeah, already... I'll keep you posted... Yeah, bye."

I was halfway up the stairs by the time I heard her call out for me, "Em? Are you home?"

"Yeah, I just have to use the restroom! I'll be right down!"

The side effects for not taking any Vicodin since last night were wearing on me. I could barely focus while driving and was continuously shaking and sweating. I just needed two to level me out. I could wipe myself off, and by the time I was going downstairs, the effects would be able to kick in. I could last 4 minutes in front of Alison without showing.

"Whew, finally." I exhaled, closing the bathroom door behind me. Walking to the cabinet, I opened the door to reach behind the storage of toilet paper to open the small red overnight make-up bag. The same spot where I kept them at my house.

But when I opened the bag, the pill bottle was gone.

It had to be a mistake. I had to have placed it somewhere else... I started combing the restroom before I heard Alison's voice again.

"Emily? What's going on? Are you okay? Do you need me to come up there?"

She sounded concerned. There was no way I could have Alison finding me in here looking around. I adjusted myself in the mirror and started wiping off my face, "No, babe! I'm coming right now." My fix would have to wait.

Pinching myself to stop the shaking as I went down the stairs, I attempted to crack a joke, "Sorry, Al. I realized once I got up there that I didn't just have to pee."

I rounded the corner to find Alison with my pill bottle in hand, spinning it in her hands and looking at me with disgust, "Yeah. I'm sure that's not all you were trying to do, Em."

She went silent in front of me. I could only assume that she couldn't find the right words for the level of disappointment she had for me at the moment.

"What are you doing with that, Alison?" The accusation came out of my mouth before I could even process it.

She stood up before I had even finished her name, "What the fuck are YOU doing with it, Emily? What even is this shit?" she asked, opening the bottle and letting the last, one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. pills fall to the carpet beneath us.

"It was leftover. From when my dad last got hurt... I found it." My shaking was beginning to become more prominent, I needed her to lay off. No matter what it took.

"Emily." Alison spoke sternly, looking me right in the eye, "I didn't just find this on my own. Hanna called." She tossed her phone behind her, so it landed on the couch, "Try again."

Internally, I was hitting my head. Of course, Hanna had called. She was the only one that knew my symptoms before. I must not have been as convincing as I thought.

"Okay... it was leftover. From tearing – uh – tearing my cuff last year."

"And how long has this been going on?"