Orange is the New Alison

A/N: Don't hate me for writing another story, I still have After Christmas, Christmas & Strippers, and Feel Good Drag chapters halfway done. But I have crazy writer's block now, and kayweston gave me a prompt (before the airing of last night's episode) to write an Emison jail scene just to get my creativity going again. And then I saw Sasha's #orangeisthenewalison and well this two parter is the result. Will post the second part later tonight. Enjoy.

x-x-x

"DiLaurentis!"

Alison's ears perk up at the sound of her name but she barely moves, her mind in a horrible state of depression and her body mimicking the sluggish mentality she's stuck in. She doesn't move around the jail cell much, mostly she lies on her bunk staring at the ceiling as her brain slowly withers with horrible nightmares and thoughts of the life she had and the people she once knew. Nothing feels familiar, and nothing feels sane.

"DiLaurentis you better get up!"

None of the officers are kind to her- and why should they be? This whole town is convinced she murdered two girls and manipulated everybody. The only person to show her a trace of human compassion is her cellmate who protected her once or twice from other nasty in-mates.

This is definitely her hell. She had been sentenced to hell by her own supposed best friends, by Spencer, Aria, Hanna- and oh god, if she thinks of Emily one more time she may try to find a way to kill herself right now. The way the four of them had stood there without an ounce of remorse, without a trace of recollection of their friendship had really, really hurt. Hurt didn't even begin to describe the pain she feels from their distrust and hatred of her.

The blonde reluctantly sits up, looking towards the bars. An officer stands there glaring at her.

"Get your shit together," the uniformed woman says to her and Alison sighs as narrows her eyes warily.

"Where am I going?" she asks and the exhaustion is evident in her voice.

"New cell," the officer tells her sharply. "Now hurry up."

Alison gathers the few belongings that she has- nothing special really, just the bare minimum hygienic products she's allowed to have, and a journal that she's kept for years.

When she approaches the bars, they slide back, and she steps forward, eyes locked with the officer. She can feel the hatred towards her, and she wonders if she's safer behind bars than in public. Mona's mother would have hurt her even more had Hanna not stopped her, Alison thinks.

They approach the new cell, and it's empty. Alison doesn't know whether to be happy or annoyed by this.

"What is this, isolation?" she asks dryly as the new cage opens and she steps inside, wincing at the sound of the bars shutting behind her.

"Oh no, you're getting a new cellmate," the lady chuckles and Alison's eyes narrow again, confused by her amusement.

"What's so funny?"

"I hear she's a feisty one, violent too," the officer rambles shaking her head. "If you ask me they should do a psych eval on her to make sure she's stable, poor thing. She looks so out of sorts."

"What did she do?" Alison is afraid to ask but has to know.

"Attacked a police officer, severely wounded him. Out of nowhere too," the officer shakes her head again and walks away leaving Alison to fearfully anticipate the arrival of some beastly aggressive woman. She's only been in here for two weeks or so, but she's seen the type of people in jail here. And she fears for her own safety because she's already been harassed, physically and sexually.

As her old cellmate had pointed out, she was an innocent looking blonde with an attitude- and there were some fucked up sick people in this place who would want to mess with her. So she tried to lay low, tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible. It was getting easier as more life left her as her weary existence dragged on.

In the two plus weeks that she'd been here, she hadn't had one visitor. Not Jason, not her father, not those so-called friends at school- nobody. This is Alison's form of hell, and she knows damn well she deserves it.

Time ticks by slowly, and the evening passes without any interruption. Alison can barely bring herself to eat anything at dinner time and picks at her food, sitting alone. When she returns to her cell, she crawls into her upper bunk (she prefers to be on top, that way nobody can surprise attack her).

She starts to fall asleep early, and when there are heavily padded footsteps in the corridor she continues to try and sleep. The sound of the bars creaking rattles her, but she tries not to be bothered as she continues to face the wall, eyes shut, hoping her new psycho cellmate won't bother her tonight. The bars shut, and Alison hears silence- the woman must be standing completely still (how eerie of her).

And then, without warning, she hears footsteps approach her bed and her eyes fly open as strong hands grab her and practically pull her off the bunk. She shrieks as her body flails and the woman grabbing her is a blur of brown hair as Alison tries not to fall flat on her face while struggling in the hands of this brute. She feels her body being shoved against the cold wall and she winces, closing her eyes her as her head hits it painfully.

"Let go of me!" Alison growls, and when she opens her eyes her breath gets caught in her throat she stares in horror- instead of a brutish, aggressive woman in front of her all she sees is the ghost of a girl she once knew- Emily.

x-x-x

Alison can feel her heart breaking all over again. Emily has her hand wrapped around her throat and is aggressively pressing her against the wall, fingers threatening to squeeze Alison to suffocation. Those normally warm, chocolate brown eyes are now dark and frightening, leering at her like a hungry animal. She's afraid to speak, and she's even more afraid to hear Emily speak. Her lips are curled into a feral snarl and her eyes are narrowed with hatred as her hands grasp at Ali aggressively.

Emily had always been like a loyal, protective dog, hence the nickname Killer. But Alison had never been on the receiving end of Emily's wrath. And as scary as this is, it breaks her to know that her sweet, loving mermaid has not only turned on her, but turned into this.

"Emily-" Alison tries to start but chokes as Emily violently squeezes her neck, and Alison's tiny hands fly to her wrist to try and stop her.

"I don't want to hear my name come from your lips ever again," Emily growls and Alison whimpers at the terrifying energy she can feel.

"Please let go," Alison tries to reason, her voice strangled as she struggles to breathe.

"Why? So you can kill me too?" Emily snarls and Alison recalls the officer telling her that Emily had severely injured a police officer. She begins to wonder if Emily has actually lost it, because this is not the girl she had come to love. The person before her is a broken, sad empty shell with hatred running through her veins.

"I would never," Alison gasps and she feels herself growing lightheaded. "Please let go."

As if breaking out of a spell, Emily suddenly lets go and throws Alison backwards as she steps back, her eyes dull and dead (and Alison wants to cry because she swears Emily can look directly at her and not really see her there at all).

The silence in the room is unbearable. If Alison ever doubted she was in hell before, she was damn sure she's in hell now.