This is how I heard the story: A girl was so full of light and dark that she gathered a circle around her. Witches, princesses, ladies and queens; it doesn't matter anymore. She told them the truth and she told them lies. She wanted them to be strong, and she wanted them weak. She was terrified of being alone, and alone was all she was. She left a mark on them, like a scar or a bruise; she made them strong, and she made them weak. And this is the story she told:
"This is how I heard the story: The twins played so nicely while they waited for their parents to get home," she said.
But the girls in the story didn't play too nicely, for too long. Girls never can. They aren't allowed. Something gets in the way, always. And eventually you realize your parents are never coming home, and you're all alone. Alone is all you are.
There was a doll. They were dolls, playing with dolls, and there was -- especially -- a specific doll. Twice the size of every doll on the table. The most perfect, the most beautiful one.
"But they wouldn't get to go trick-or-treat that night," she said. "Or ever again."
She was interrupted by her friend. Not her favorite, but probably the weakest. Her friend was babysitting, and that was why she was telling the story that she told. This is how it went, once the baby they were sitting had given his wide-eyed permission:
"She lifted the knife high into the air," said the girl, raising a knife high into the air. "And then plunged it, deep into her sister's chest! A sick smile came across her face, as she watched the blood ooze out of her sister's heart." Her parents watched, terrified, in the story the girl was telling; the twin still standing smiled, beatific. The most perfect, the most beautiful one.
"And they had no choice but to send her away to a home for the criminally insane. And that's where she remained... Until yesterday, when she escaped and vowed to return to Rosewood and stab to death every child who dares to go trick-or-treating on Halloween!"
The girl stabbed the pumpkin on the table, and that was the story the girl told. That was one ending, to the story of the girl.
Alison asked Emily, of course, which Britney Hanna should be for Halloween. Should she be the Cute one? Or the Bald one? Emily and Aria knew Hanna could be whatever she wanted, but Alison wasn't so sure. She wanted them strong, but she wanted them weak. Spencer wore glasses, but not like a hipster. Like something that hasn't been born quite yet.