Just like she ran.

This ant, this fucking ant was braver than she was.

This is about the time when Spencer vomited.

Barely able to sit up in time to pull her hair out of the way, she felt everything, her pathetic attempt at being a friend, her disgust at her actions, her lingering guilt over Patrick, everything, just pour right out of her.

God, did that feel good.

Spitting to try and remove the remaining taste from her mouth, Spencer lifted her hand up to her face to wipe the corners of her mouth when she noticed that Marty was no longer on her arm. Panicking for her newfound friend, she quickly scanned the ground until her blue eyes, now clouded with a bit of gray, landed on him. In all of the hustle, Marty had gotten thrown to the ground and was now on his side on the dirt, his front two legs twitching in the air and his middle two and back two unmoving.

Apparently Spencer wasn’t completely out of tears because upon witnessing poor Marty’s condition, one rebel drop escaped from her right eye and slowly, silently, patiently made its way down her cheek until it reached the edge of her chin and fell to its demise on that red clay making one spot a shade lighter than all the rest.

I’m an idiot.

Spencer lifted herself up on one arm, then on both.

A fucking idiot.

Pushing herself up off the ground, she gave herself a minute for her legs to steady.

An insensitive, cowardly, fucking idiot.

And then, once again, she ran.

Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam.

Do you have any idea how much it must have taken for her to get up the guts to tell me that?

Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam.

Fucking insensitive Spencer – Bam, Bam – Always thinking of herself.

Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam.

She tells you her deepest, most personal secret, and you do what?

Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam.

You run.

Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam.

She pretty much tells you she’s dying, and do you console her?

Bam.

No.

Bam.

Do you comfort her?

Bam.

No.

Bam.

Do you assure her everything’s going to be okay?

Bam.

No.

Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam.

Fucking idiot.

Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam.

So, she ran.

Her Bams turned into Crunches as Spencer turned onto the gravel drive. God, it seemed like days ago when she was running out of it. Who knows? Maybe it was.

Slowing herself down to a stop, she ended up right in front of the cabin, taking it all in. The lights were off, but that wasn’t uncommon. During the day enough natural sunlight came in to illuminate every room. Waiting a minute to catch her breath, she began walking carefully up to the door. She grabbed onto the handle and turned it a little to the side. It was unlocked.

Spencer finished the turn and pulled, allowing a gust of cool air to escape from the house and greet her like a welcome mat. Stepping into the cabin, she didn’t know where to look first so she decided to start where she had left off. Their couch.

Her feet no longer pounding, everything seemed quieter, as if any noise she were to make would sound like thunder. So, she tiptoed toward the back of the house, holding her breath with every tip and every toe.

Rounding the corner, Spencer stopped in her steps. Ashley was there, right where she left her, the overgrown couch enveloping her small frame and her head pulled straight up leaving brown eyes to lock with her blues.

Never breaking contact, Spencer spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

You know no matter how many times you swear you will never go back on the teacups, you always do. Always.