She thought about Nick’s figure looming next to her over the hole in her parents’ backyard that night Courtney died. After it was over, he’d grabbed Ali and hugged her hard, repeating over and over that he loved her so much and he was so, so proud. That was true love, she figured: Someone who would kill for you, over and over again. Someone who would go to the ends of the earth to wrong all your rights.

But now, something inside her turned to steel. Only the strong survive, she incanted. Even if Nick, when on trial, professed again and again that Ali was alive, there was no trace of her: She always made sure of that. Besides, he had been the one who’d murdered Tabitha. That video didn’t lie.

She rolled over in bed, poking her tongue into the space where her tooth was missing. “Screw him,” she said out loud, testing out her voice. “It’s time to move on. I’m Alison. And I’m fabulous.”

And she knew, suddenly, and without a doubt, that whatever she did next, she would do it well. And someday, when those bitches weren’t looking, she’d come for them again. But let’s face it: She was impatient. She had a feeling it would be sooner rather than later.

She couldn’t wait.