Hi everyone! So, I'm not very good with opening author's notes, but all I can say is that if you love the OT4, adore little kids, and worship Mona Vanderwaal to the grave, then you've come to the right place. Over winter break, I spent some time with my little cousins, and I thought to myself, "What would it be like if the Liars had children of their own?" And since the whole second-generation Liar thing is kind of overdone, I wanted to put my own spin on it: one where the Liars have moved away from Rosewood with their spouses, had kids of their own, and haven't seen each other for ten years, until Mona is put on trial and they all have to come back to testify. So you're going to see the Liars being distant with each other, you're going to see them interacting with their kids (and my little cousins helped me pick out the names for the kids, so that was fun), and overall just a lot of stuff that was fun for me to write and hopefully should be fun for you to read. This story is one of the lighter ones I've done, but considering how dark I tend to write, that's not really saying anything. This story will not be short on feels. You will cry several times during this story, but I can promise you that it won't be from any character deaths or random crimes or tortures... it'll just be from a variety of other things. But anyway, for fear of droning on, enjoy the story, and don't forget to leave a nice little review at the end!

Prologue

Mona Vanderwaal stared blankly at the concrete walls in front of her, her mind too clouded to focus on any one specific thing. She had set up a routine for herself ever since she had been thrown in Rosewood's local prison: she would begrudgingly wake up when they told her to, slump her way into the cafeteria to inhale whatever pile of mush they had served up, and tried to classify as actual food, do the day's task of vigorous and tedious labor, until finally, when she was allowed to retire to her room, she would sit down in the position she was currently in and just stare ahead.

Her roommate, Kazan, a dark, muscular woman of 38 with the worst case of facial hair Mona had ever seen, would constantly poke and prod at her, trying to get her to react, but Mona remained still, frustrating her fellow inmate. She didn't know why she continued to settle herself into such a meditative state when there was nothing to meditate on, but she figured little patterns like these would be what kept her from going crazy in a place like this.

From behind, Mona could hear gentle whistling sounds coming from the bunk bed above her, and she smiled as she realized these were snoring sounds. Kazan had fallen asleep. This often would happen, as Kazan would exhaust herself trying to pester Mona, who would always stubbornly resist Kazan's annoyances. At first, Mona's behavior became a dangerous game for them to play. Kazan would get so angry at Mona's silent objections to the point that she would just lift Mona's unusually small body up into the air and slam her against the nearest wall. Now, while she was still persistent in trying to get Mona to speak, she gave up easily, which relieved Mona. It wasn't that she was afraid she was going to give in - she had made a promise to herself the minute she had set foot in Rosewood County Jail that she was never going to speak to anyone, a promise she was still keeping to this day - but she could do without the physical pain. It had been years since Kazan had tried to hurt her, yet Mona could still make out the outlines of purple and yellow bruises on her upper arms.

Mona, happy to have time to herself now, scrambled up from the ground and made her way over to the far wall, a small pebble in hand. She ignored the way her burlap orange jumpsuit swallowed her petite frame and kept scratching against her skin as she walked, and took the pebble to the wall in a long, straight, vertical line.

It wasn't the first either. She took this time to count all of the tallies she had made at this time of night when Kazan had fallen asleep, in groups of five.

There were 730 groups of five, with four left over.

3,654 days. 3,654 days since those pesky Liars had finally grown a pair and contacted the police. 3,654 days since everyone on the A team had bailed on her, selling her out as their fearless leader, and 3,654 days since she'd been thrown in the slammer, abandoned without even a fair trial as there wasn't a lawyer in sight who had wanted to speak at her defense.

Mona smiled crookedly as she thought back at the memory. In truth, it was pretty stupid of her. She had managed to get away with tormenting the girls the first time when she was put in Radley and she should have just stopped there and known not to push the envelope. But the minute she got back into it, the envelope had burst, and she wasn't given another chance. The Rosewood PD was merciless and arrested her on the spot.

At the time, she was the talk of all the town, but it didn't take long for them all to forget about her the minute something exciting had entered the scene: a new restaurant that had opened up on Lake Braddock Square, the town's local priest retiring, and other things that grasped the town's interest more than that of a diabolical team of sociopaths who were tormenting a group of high schoolers, led, of course, by a five foot tall, multiracial school girl with assumed adrenalized hyperreality who had started it all by murdering the 14-year-old, blonde-haired beauty who had given her so much trouble in the past and, in Mona's mind, had really started the whole thing.

So Mona was left alone to rot in her jail cell, her careful reminders that writs of habeas corpus still applied to her hopelessly ignored as the rest of the town moved on. The girls had all married their significant others from high school and then moved far away from Rosewood, and the case on Alison DiLaurentis had been put to a close until further notice, but Mona was constantly left wondering when that notice would be... well, noticed. 3,654 days later and it didn't seem like anyone had even remembered she even existed.

But of course, when she thought about it, maybe that's what the girls were trying to do. Forget. Maybe they were trying to move on from her, move on with their lives.

She didn't know anything about where the girls were now. Did they have kids? Families of their own? For God's sake, hadn't anyone arrested Ezra for having an affair with a student? Why did he get to go off scott free, and she had to be restrained like this? So she had blackmailed, stalked, and maybe killed a few people who had gotten in her way of blackmailing and stalking. Big deal.

Mona sighed as she let the pebble slide from within her fingers, falling to the floor with a thud. She laughed to herself as she tried to imagine one of the girls lasting a day in here. Emily would be crying in the corner, Hanna would be complaining about how orange wasn't even her color, Spencer would probably start gnawing at the metal bars with her teeth the minute the guards left, and there was a 50/50 chance Aria would either be having an anxiety attack or utilizing her time and the vast amounts of dust particles and dirt around her to make a pair of earrings for herself. But Mona had remained strong, and had even made a reputation for herself among the other prisoners. She had been called "mute", "deaf", "crazy", and "silent terrorist", and she treasured all of those names greatly. She knew she would have plenty of good stories to tell once she busted out of here...

Mona slumped to the ground in a huff. What was she even saying? She was never going to get out of here. It had been 10 years, and she still hadn't gotten used to the fact that this was her home now.

Or was it...

Just as Mona was about to drift to sleep, ignoring the chill of cold in the air as she was too lazy to crawl under her tiny wool blanket on her bottom bunk, there was a knock on the concrete outside.

Mona lifted her head, confused, as she never had visitors before. Suddenly, through the dark she could hear the jingling of keys and the turning of a lock, and when her eyes adjusted she was able to make out the metal bars moving from their normally dormant position as a pair of burly hands maneuvered them.

"Vanderwaal," a deep voice said, and Mona froze. The voice came from a towering figure, and the sound of her name made her flinch, as if he had just summoned Lord Voldemort.

Since she hadn't given any of the other prisoners her name since she had refused to talk, no one had spoken her name, even her last name, to her in 3,654 days.

Afraid to break her clean slate, Mona subtly nodded her head, not uttering a word, yet she couldn't help the squeak of fear, joy, and confusion that escaped her mouth when the guard spoke his next four words.

"You're free to go."

Intrigued? Stay tuned for the next chapter by tomorrow! And don't forget to review/follow/favorite/ALL that good stuff :)