Three weeks.
She thinks they've been gone for three weeks. 21 days exactly. Or so she thinks. She's lost all track of time, her mind warped from partaking in Charles' mind games.
She's delirious. She hasn't slept in days. She hears the loud ring of the buzzer every time her eyes flutter shut. Even while she lies wide awake, paralyzed with fear, she can hear it. The alarm that rings signaling her to return to her room, the shrill sound that causes her head to throb, and her heart to race. She'd made the mistake of not making it back on time once, and she'll never be able to forget the consequence.
She starts to stir awake. She has no idea she's been out, but she doesn't care. She'd finally been able to sleep. She forces her heavy eyelids open, trying to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. She can see a few dark spots across the room from her, but she can't make them out. Sitting up in her place, she examines the room, and follows the trail of spots until they land at her feet. She strains her eyes and feels her mouth drop open.
It's blood.
She starts to back away, as if she could somehow escape it.
But she can't.
Spencer feels her back press up against the cool wall of her room, and notices the blood trail up her leg. She follows it until she looks down at her trembling hands. She doesn't know how she hadn't realized it before, and her heart begins to race. Whose blood was it? A's? Her own? The uncertainty made her stomach roll. Had she done it while she was out? Was she drugged?
She shoots up in her spot, looking down at herself. She notices the blood that stains her shirt. Her pants. She wipes her hand across her face and notices the red smudge that stains the back of it. Her breathing becomes rapid. Shallow. What the hell had Charles make her do?
"Who do you love more?"
She hears the question repeated over and over in her head, vaguely remembering it. Had she dreamt it? She tries to put a meaning to it, when she feels her stomach roll.
Toby.
"What did I do?" she asks, not even able to recognize her soft, fragile voice.
Panic washes over her as she tries to process what's happened. She steps closer to the camera, as if trying to see who's watching on the other side.
Her face contorts with pain. Her eyes sting, as if she's crying, but no tears escape. She doesn't have any left. "What did you make me do?!" She screams, so loud she wonders if her friends are able to hear her.
She has no idea how she'll cope if it's true. She'd gotten Toby involved in this mess. If it wasn't for her, he would've never joined the A team to protect her. He would've never joined Rosewood's finest in hopes of finding the person who's been torturing her for the past two years. He wouldn't be dead if it wasn't for her.
No.
"He's not dead. It can't be him," she whispers, trying to reassure herself. It couldn't have been. It must be another mind game. Surely she'd remember if she had actually killed someone. But then again, she doesn't remember much. She's convinced. "It's him."
She figures it's been a week. A week since she'd woken up in a pool of blood. A pool of blood that very well could've belonged to her boyfriend. But it feels like an eternity has passed. She doesn't even want to think about it. All she can think about is being reunited with her friends. They haven't seen each other at all. She starts to wonder if they're even still there. If they're alive or worse, dead.
She doesn't want to think about that. She can't think about that. She's already lost so much, she can't lose them too. So she lays awake in her bed, her bloodshot eyes pried open. She can't fall asleep again, she won't allow it. She doesn't want to leave again. She hasn't even tried to see if her door is unlocked, but she won't. She can't risk the consequences. Not again.
She clings at her sweater- an argyle cardigan- that seemed to have appeared in her closet. Maybe Charles thinks she deserves a little slack for everything he's put her through. After all, it is a bit different than the tattered tank she's used to wearing. More comfortable. More familiar.
Tears start to form in her eyes as she recounts what she's been through, from what little she remembers. She feels so alone. Unbearably so. She wants Toby, she needs him, but she knows she'll never see him again. It's all her fault.
"Toby," Spencer whispers, her voice broken. She curls up in her bed, clinging to a nearby pillow. It helps a little, but the pain is still unbearable. The guilt. The uncertainty. She can't wait until they escape. If they escape.
Suddenly, she hears a small click come from her door. It startles her, making her heartbeat quicken. She doesn't hear another sound, and decides to cross the room to check it out. Reaching out a hand, she shakily grips the knob and, taking a deep breath, realizes it's unlocked.
Finally.
She opens it, albeit hesitantly, and slowly enters the hallway. She sees the other doors open as well, and feels relief course through her. Her friends are alive. They're okay. Well, they appear to be.
They can barely look each other in the eye as they recount their own personal hell. It takes Spencer a moment to recognize them, notably Aria, whose long locks have been chopped, and streaked with red. Something Spencer hasn't seen since their freshman year of high school.
"Is everyone okay?"
She doesn't know who asks this. For all she knows, it could've been her. She's too stunned to process any of what's going on. Surely Charles wouldn't let them out this easily?
They have a few moments to reunite before the alarm sounds yet again. The liars are quick to cover their ears, and Spencer tosses her friends a worried look. This time though, she feels something she hasn't felt since they'd arrived. Determination. In this instant, she is more determined than ever to escape the hell hole of a dollhouse that Charles has created for them. More determined to reunite with her family- to formally reunite with her friends.
"Let's go," she finally says, and begins to lead her friends down the hall.
"Spence, what are you doing?" Hanna asks, her ears still covered. The alarm continues to blare, seemingly amplified by the concrete walls. Spencer can barely hear her, but she continues on anyway, desperately searching for a way out.
"Prepare for Ali's arrival."
This causes the girls to come to a stop, and Spencer feels her face contort with worry.
"What do we do?" this time, it was Aria who speaks up.
Spencer feels conflicted. She wants so much to escape, but upon remembering what happened the last time she'd disobeyed Charles' orders, she decides to wait, and follow the instructions.
"Let's go."
"Wait, are you serious?"
Hanna.
"What else are we supposed to do?"
"Leave?"
"Yeah? How do you suppose we do that?"
Hanna feels her gaze fall to the ground. "I don't know," she mumbles.
"Look, I want to escape just as much as you do. Believe me, we all do. But we all know what happens when we don't abide by Charles' 'rules.' I don't know about you, but I sure as hell can't go through that again. So I'm going."
"Please follow the lighted pathway. Prepare for Ali's arrival."
Spencer, still frozen, decides to push on, feeling exhausted with each step she takes. When they finally arrive in the room, they're met with an assortment of boxes. They seem to be filled with all of Alison's belongings. As she looks around the room, she finds that it's, no surprise, decorated like Ali's, yet it still seems different. It causes her to shudder, having only seen the inside of her room. Had all the rooms been replicas?
"What's this?" Emily asks, beginning to rifle through a box.
"It looks like it all belongs to Alison," Aria answers.
Spencer finds a photo album, and begins to flip through the first few pages. She recognizes two of the children almost instantly- Jason and Alison. But she sees a third person she's never seen before.
"Guys?"
The three girls turn to look at their friend, noticing the album in her hands. They begin to examine the picture, and find themselves just as confused as she is.
"Who is that?"
"I- I don't know. A cousin maybe?" Emily answers. It doesn't occur to her that he could be a DiLaurentis.
Spencer notices a small movement occur across the room, and looks up to see a film playing in front of them. "Or a…brother?"
"Give your sister a kiss." Jessica DiLaurentis's voice can be heard on the screen.
"Charles," she breathed. "He's a DiLaurentis. He's Ali's brother."
The girls are silent, ruminating in their thoughts, until they are startled by Spencer's sudden movement. She notices the camera in the corner of the room and, walking up to it, holds up a photo she had removed from the album.
"I know who you are."
Of course, there was no response. But she could swear that she saw the lens focus in a bit.
"Game over, Charles."
And with that she pulls out a lighter that she had found, lighting the picture on fire. She stares intently into the camera, as if watching him watch the photo burn.
She proceeds to light other objects in the room on fire. Dolls, more photos, a crib. Soon enough, the entire room is engulfed in flames, and they flee. The alarm begins to blare, causing the girls to jump. Spencer figured it would happen, but she didn't care. She can't go back to her room, not after the stunt she's just pulled.
"Please proceed to your rooms," the automated voice sounds. But Spencer isn't having it.
"No!"
Her friends are worried, but still follow close behind. Although they're terrified, they trust her. They trust she knows what she's doing, somehow, and that she'll lead them out. She's their only hope.
They run towards what Spencer believes is an exit, before hearing a familiar voice screaming from a distance.
"Help!"
She runs in the direction of the voice before stopping in front of a large well. Looking down, she can see the source of the screams.
Mona.
"Spencer, get me out!"
"Just…hang on," she answered. "I think I know a way out."
"No, you have to get me out of here, now. Please!"
She gives her an apologetic look before taking off in the same direction she had been headed before. She thinks she can see it- a flood of light. It appears to be blue. Red? Are they police lights?"
They burst through the door and stumble out, overwhelmed with joy at having escaped. Right away, police officers rush to the girls' side and a series of questions follow. They all seem pretty obvious to Spencer, but she knows they're just trying to do their job.
No, I'm not okay. No, I am not physically hurt. No, I don't know where we are.
She mentally answers the questions in her head, but does her best to comply with the officers.
An officer, who entered the dollhouse moments after the girls had escaped, appeared again a few minutes later with a filthy, disheveled Mona by his side. Spencer immediately ran up to her, wrapping her weak arms around her in a best effort to comfort her. The two had never been particularly close, and had their reasons to dislike each other in the past, but in this moment, they couldn't be more glad to see each other.
"Spencer?"
The girl's head jerks in the direction of the voice. She knows that voice. She'd recognize it anywhere. But it couldn't be. She'd killed him. He's dead.
This time the voice calls out a little louder, causing her to focus on the figure approaching her. "Spencer!"
It's him; he's alive. She hadn't killed him. It was another one of Charles' games.
"Toby?" she cries, dropping her arms to her side. When she realizes that, yes, it's him, she takes off in a sprint to close the distance between them. They run at each other and nearly collide when they meet.
"Spencer," he sighs, holding on tight. "I found you."
She feels tears welling up in her eyes, and soon she's sobbing. She can't believe they escaped. She can't believe they found them. More importantly, she can't believe that Toby's alive.
"You're here," she cries, clinging to him.
"I'm here, babe," he assures her, not understanding the meaning behind her words.
They share an urgent kiss, and they feel whole once again. Nothing will be able to repair the damage the two suffered, but while they're in each other's arms, it seems bearable. It's almost easy to forget the circumstances of their reunion, as they're too distracted by each other's presence.
All too soon, Toby pulls away from his girlfriend and wipes the tears from her face. "It's okay, Spence. We got him."
"What?" she croaks.
"It's Andrew, babe. They got him."
"What?" she asks again, this time louder. "No, Toby-"
"Don't worry, you're safe now. He can't hurt you anymore."
Except he can, she thinks. Because Andrew isn't A.
She can't utter the words- she can't tell him that he's wrong. She's too overwhelmed to say another word. She hopes that, even though she knows otherwise, he's right. Because if he's not, it's not "game over." The game's just begun.