2. Game On, Charles
Toby
THREE WEEKS LATER
Mr. DiLaurentis' arms were wrapped around his daughter, Alison, and she had her head pressed to his chest. After a long moment, they pulled out of the embrace.
"This better work," Mr. DiLaurentis said, facing Lieutenant Tanner. He was referring to our plan to trap Andrew Campbell, the person who we were convinced had kidnapped my beautiful and kind-hearted girlfriend, Spencer Hastings, and her three friends three weeks ago.
I grimaced in uncertainty, then turned back to Detective Maple and the other officer, who were working on the wire connection that they'd set up a few hours ago. Detective Barry Maple was big–thick-waisted, but very tall and burly, with chocolate-colored skin and black buzzed hair. A pair of warm brown eyes were set on his open, friendly face.
Lieutenant Tanner turned to Mr. DiLaurentis. "Andrew's been obsessed with the girls since Ali went missing. If he really thinks that she's here alone there is no way he won't pass up the opportunity to grab her."
At thirty-three years old, Linda Tanner was a dark-haired bilingual woman, with a slight olive tone to her complexion. She had transferred in from the Rosewood State Police Department six months ago when Detective Darren Wilden was mysteriously murdered. Tanner had a way of twisting facts into her own theories, but she was able to link things together quickly when it came to A.
I'd joined the police force not long after my family's house had caught on fire, an explosion set up by A. Being a cop also gave me the chance to have access to all the police records and actually do something about the murders and disappearances in Rosewood. To really help people, when we took bad guys off the street and kept this town safe. It was one of the reasons why I loved my job. But mostly it was so I could protect the one person in this world who mattered most to me–Spencer. It was why I showed up every morning; she was what kept me going.
"And if you're wrong?" Mr. DiLaurentis questioned.
"Dad, this was my idea," Ali cut in. "If we don't poke the bear, it'll just keep hibernating."
"I know," he sighed. "I just…don't like the idea of using my daughter as bait."
The sky had just fallen into darkness outside on a Saturday night in April, police officers including me were all gathered in the DiLaurentis' plushly decorated family room, with laptops, phones, and a Stingray device to help us listen in on calls, connected to several wires on the table. Just a few minutes ago, Alison held a press conference outside, stating that her friends and Mona Vanderwaal, who had been discovered to be alive, were in grave danger, and requested no more press or police. She then spoke to Andrew through the camera, begging him not to hurt them.
Resting my hand on my gun holster, I looked over at the Mac LG laptop screen, showing a photographic hybrid map of Pennsylvania that we were using to track Andrew Campbell. If he was still in Rosewood, this map would alert us right to him.
A few other cops had gathered around. Just then, an officer with black, thick-rimmed glasses and dark hair walked up to me with a confidential folder. I nodded a thanks to him and opened it up. Inside were files of Andrew's past criminal records and physical description. I flipped through them page by page, but couldn't find anything related that could tell me where Andrew Campbell was, or where he was keeping Spencer and the girls.
"Your daughter will have police protection twenty-four hours a day," I heard Tanner assure Mr. DiLaurentis. "We will leave nothing up to chance. And if Andrew or anybody else tries to contact her we'll be ready."
"So what do we do now?" Alison asked.
"We wait," she answered calmly. "And we hope that Andrew makes a move."
Ali cast her worried blue eyes towards me from across the room. I set my jaw and cut my eyes at her.
Alison DiLaurentis was the former It Girl of Rosewood High's popular social circle and had chosen Spencer, along with Emily Fields, Aria Montgomery, and Hanna Marin to be her best friends three years ago. Her long, golden wavy blonde hair, big blue eyes, attractive heart-shaped face, charming bow-shaped lips, and fearless personality made it impossible to say no to her and made others feel special. It was those same charms that I'd almost fallen for and I'd hated her ever since, especially when I remembered the way she could manipulate me. Ali used to always savor making my life miserable before she went missing.
When Alison had blinded my step-sister, Jenna, with a lit firework during the summer of ninth grade, she'd threatened me into taking the blame for the accident, saying she'd tell everyone that I'd been forcing Jenna into a sexual relationship if I didn't keep quiet. But little did Alison know that it was actually Jenna who had been forcing me. Whether I'd been guilty or not of raping Jenna, that secret had haunted me for three long years–a secret I'd tried hard to forget. But when I met Spencer, my life changed forever.
I stared down at Alison with hard eyes now, setting my mouth in a tight line. Ali may have been helping the police to get the girls back, but I knew the truth. She was a liar and a master manipulator, and would do anything to get what she wanted. If she hadn't been scheming with Detective Holbrook, Tanner's partner before he'd gotten suspended, and created an army to protect herself against Mona's plot, A never would have kidnapped Spencer in the first place and she'd be safe. But I couldn't think about that now; I had to focus on getting Spencer back. Until then, I would have to put up with Alison, no matter how hard it was.
A couple hours later, Lieutenant Tanner and the rest of the police officers sat around by the Stingray connection at the table, while I stood by Alison sitting stiffly on the living room couch. Mr. DiLaurentis sat opposite her on the chaise. We'd been waiting around for what seemed like all night for Andrew to reach out to Alison, and still there was no sign of him.
I shifted uncomfortably by the couch. Every minute we waited for Andrew to call was another minute Spencer was in danger. She could have been dead for all I knew. The thought of losing her seemed unbearable.
Ali stared at the old grandfather clock impatiently as it made a few loud ticks, then exchanged an uneasy glance with me. I looked towards Tanner and Detective Barry staring into the computer screens, where we were checking for a response from Andrew. Something about this felt very wrong.
"Do you need anything?" Mr. DiLaurentis asked Alison, breaking the tense silence. "Food, soda?"
Ali shook her head. "No, I'm fine."
Now Alison was staring at something along the far wall and let out a startled gasp. I turned to what she was looking at and saw a shadow moving in the hallway across the room. Alison jumped off the couch, her eyes widening.
I pulled my gun out of its holster and moved towards the opening of the hallway, aiming it at the perpetrator. I kept my eyes locked on the hall and gripped the gun, when I heard a scuffling sound, like footsteps, coming towards me.
Finally he came in through the doorway. But when I pulled back the trigger on the gun, getting ready to shoot, I was staring into the blue eyes of Jason DiLaurentis.
Jason sprang backward, startled to see me holding a gun in front of him. "Toby, what the hell?" He looked around at the other police officers in confusion.
I let out a breath of relief and lowered my gun. Jason DiLaurentis was Ali's older brother and had the same golden blonde hair and clear blue eyes, but was taller with broad shoulders, and a perfectly chiseled chin. He also happened to be Spencer's half-brother, after her father had an affair with Alison's mother, Jessica DiLaurentis.
I put the gun back into my police belt. "Why didn't you come in the front?"
"Told me to be discreet, I came in through the garage," Jason answered.
Just then, Alison's iPhone 6 Plus rang, giving out three loud chimes. Everyone fell deafly silent as Ali pressed the speakerphone button and showed it to Tanner. The phone lit up in her hand, and I caught a glimpse of the number in the preview screen. It was coming from a restricted number. My heart pounded. Andrew.
"Everybody stay absolutely silent," Tanner ordered quietly.
Detective Barry immediately sat down at one of the laptops sitting on the table and pressed a headset to his ear to trace the call. He nodded at Alison to answer the phone.
"Hello?" Alison said in a shaky voice.
He didn't answer.
I lingered nearby the phone, fidgeting nervously. An anxious sensation formed in the pit of my stomach, and I was terribly afraid that Spencer was hurt somewhere, cold and alone, and how I might never see her again. The thought made me uneasy.
"Hello?" Alison repeated.
A few seconds later, melodic music rang out from the other end of the line. There was something oddly familiar about the song, but I couldn't figure out what exactly. I listened to the familiarity of it, tensing at the sound, trying to understand the lyrics and what it all meant.
Tanner motioned for Alison to keep Andrew on the line.
"I know I'm the one that you really want," Ali continued. "Just tell me where you are and I'll find a way to get there. But I have to know that you won't hurt them."
The person on the other end clicked off and the phone disconnected.
Tanner looked at Detective Barry. "Did you get it?"
He stared at the screen and stood up, a serious look on his face. "The caller's in the house."
I froze. Everyone looked around nervously, but there was nothing out of the ordinary nearby. The lights were still turned off and everything was silent. Was Andrew watching us? Was he here right now?
Just as soon as Maple informed us of the caller, Tanner quickly led Alison upstairs with one of the officers, a thickish woman with strong features, to lock Ali inside the closet downstairs to keep her safe while the cops and I spread out to search around the house.
While Tanner and Barry were checking downstairs, I climbed to the second floor and took a look around, holding my bulky flashlight in one hand and my gun in the other. The floorboards creaked underneath me as I moved slowly down the hall.
As I neared Alison's bedroom, I carefully cracked open the door and aimed the flashlight beam across the room. Slowly, I stepped inside, moving along the wall, noticing a creaking sound coming from somewhere close by. Nothing appeared unusual or disturbed. The bed was made, Alison's dresser drawers were shut tight, the curtains hung in long, perfect drapes on either side of the paneled window, picture frames arranged neatly in rows on the walls. The only light in the room was coming from the moonlight outside the closed window. My stomach tightened.
I moved further inside the room, knowing A was in here somewhere. That's when I noticed a movement in the corner. Someone in a dark hoodie was sitting in a rocking chair, rocking slowly back and forth. He was dressed head to toe in black and wearing leather gloves.
"Show me your hands!" I commanded, focusing my eyes on the person sitting in the rocking chair. He didn't move.
"Let me see your hands." I moved closer to him, raising my gun behind him.
A second later, Tanner appeared soundlessly, coming in with a loaded gun as well. She moved to the opposite side of him and glanced at me with serious eyes.
"One," I mouthed to her. "Two…" Then I pulled back the chair, swinging him around, only to reveal someone wearing a pig mask. I sighed in frustration as I examined the dummy, frowning.
I pulled the pig mask off, but the face behind it was plastic and expressionless. It was only a dummy of a real-looking person made to look like A, dressed in a black hoodie and pants. Another sick joke left by A himself. The dummy's face was so worn out that its smooth cheeks shone with age.
A had lots of dolls, and liked to use them for their games with the girls more than anything else. They had porcelain dolls, talking dolls, and baby-faced doll masks for elaborate costumes. Some were half bald. And some were so old that they had arms or legs missing. But every one of them was creepy.
Suddenly, a cell phone from somewhere nearby rang loudly. And chimed. It sounded like it was coming right from the dummy. Tanner felt the fake A for the ringing phone and pulled it out from the outside hoodie pocket.
She pressed the speaker button. "Hello."
The sound of a pig squealing began to surge out from the iPhone's speaker and I looked at it in quizzically. A hot, uncomfortable feeling pooled in my stomach.
Tanner and I both turned at the sound of footsteps coming from down the hall, and were surprised to see the officer who had been watching Alison standing in the bedroom door. She was holding a gun in front of her, which she lowered the moment she saw Tanner and I in the room.
"Why aren't you downstairs?" Tanner demanded. She slid past her without waiting for an answer.
I put my gun away and headed back out into the hall. Then I climbed down the stairs after Tanner to the hallway closet, where Alison had been locked away.
The closet door creaked open as Tanner unlocked it. I peered in from behind her. Rows of colorful wrapping paper lined the walls, wicker baskets held bolts of fabric along shelves of the closet organizer, and racks of wine bottles paneled against the sides. A bottle of red wine had crashed to the tile stone floor, spilling out in a dark liquid that reminded me of blood. But Alison was nowhere to be seen.
"Where the hell is she?" I said to Tanner.
We moved down the first floor frantically, opening every door and closet that Alison could have possibly hidden in. When we couldn't find her, Tanner pulled out her cell phone and called for an APB at the police station to track Alison and Andrew.
Tanner and I reentered the living room, where Jason and Mr. DiLaurentis were gathered with the police. I stood with my hands on my hips, the wheels turning in my head. It then suddenly hit me: the song playing when Alison received the call from the blocked number. It was a classical tune called, Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree. I remembered it from when my mother used to play it on the piano when I was little.
"Put out an APB," Tanner ordered into the phone. "Alison and Campbell should be on everyone's screensaver from here to Lake Michigan."
I remained perfectly still, the realization washing over me. The song was a message from A, asking Alison to meet him at the Campbell Apple Farm.
"What is it, Toby?" Jason asked, noticing my twisted expression.
I turned to him. "It's that song. My mom used to play it on the piano. It's called, Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree."
Tanner looked at me. "Call that in."
I left the room to click on the dispatcher attached to my shoulder, and spoke into the speaker at the police station. "We got a possible location on the van."
"Stop, please!" I overheard Mr. DiLaurentis pleading. "Someone tell us what the hell is goin' on."
Once I was sure no one was watching, I quickly typed in a message to Caleb on my phone's keypad and hit SEND: Tanner sent everyone to the Campbell Apple Farm. You're in the clear.
I kept my face neutral. Just act normal.
We didn't know where A was keeping Spencer and the others, but there was only one way to find them. Caleb Rivers and Ezra Fitz came to me for help a week before with a plan to offer Alison up as bait to A to rescue the girls. The plan was dangerous and could even get us all killed, but it was our only chance at finding them.
After we diverted the police to the Campbell Apple Farm with a phone call made by Caleb, he and Ezra would follow Alison to wherever A took her with a GPS tracking device in her high-heeled stilettos, leading us straight to the girls. If it worked A would be waiting for Ali at the Kissing Rock, the woods beyond the lake where kids from Rosewood High would have secret rendezvous hookups, just like she'd said at the press conference.
If this worked, A would be caught and I'd have Spencer back safely in my arms. I didn't necessarily trust Alison or even like her for that matter, but one thing was certain: she knew how to get results.
I just hoped I wasn't too late.
Spencer
I couldn't shut out the alarms. Darkness enveloped me, pulling me under. I shot up with a gasp on the bed of my old bedroom with no idea how I'd gotten there, my dark brown hair damp with sweat.
The loud, shrieking alarms pierced my skull. My throat burned from screaming, clawing at my throat until it was raw. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to clear my head of all the noise. It took a moment for the alarms and the screams to finally stop.
During the middle of the night, I'd been awoken by a low pitch screeching in my ears, like a computer shutting down. When I sat up in bed, looking for the source of the sound, it suddenly occurred to me that it was the power generator shutting down again. The power was still powering down, every day at midnight like clockwork. The electricity didn't operate when the power shut off, so the locks on the doors didn't work and A couldn't see anyone on the live cameras set up all over the house, but it only lasted for three minutes. The only way out was an exit at the end of the hallway nearby the sealed-off vault door, but there was an old missile silo at the top. A ladder had been built into the steel, but it was about fifty feet up and it was nearly impossible to climb up before the power returned. Whoever Charles was, he'd made a near perfect hostage chamber.
My head started to ache. The room had become frighteningly still, flooding me with memories. Walking away from Toby in the courthouse hallway. The look on his face when I told him I'd kissed my sister's roommate when I was away in London. Toby kissing me, professing his deep love for me.
But when I rolled over on my side, another image replaced it. Toby, a tortured expression on his face. He was alone in a small, dark room ahead of me. I was standing in an empty long, white hallway. Behind me, there was nothing but darkness, and ahead of me, only bright light. I took a couple steps, but the more I tried to reach him, the further he became. My heart rammed against my ribcage, and it felt like the walls were closing in around me.
This wasn't happening. It felt like I was trapped in a dark fairytale I couldn't find my way out of, with monsters and looming shadows following my every move, where my prince wasn't coming to kiss me awake from my enchanted sleep. Suddenly, a blinding light flitted in front of my eyes and I found myself sitting next to Toby on one of the upholster chairs in the Rosewood Police Department's main office. His normally untidy dark brown hair was combed, and he wore his navy-blue police uniform. My skin turned to ice, and when I looked at my reflection in the one-way mirror, a different version of myself stared back. I was still wearing an orange jumpsuit, and my hair was twisted back into a ponytail.
"Officer Cavanaugh."
When I turned, a police officer with dark hair and thick-rimmed black glasses walked into the room, handing over a thick manila file. As Toby opened up the folder, the officer rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We haven't given up yet."
No! I screamed. He thought I was dead.
"Toby," I said desperately, standing up. "I'm here."
But Toby looked right through me, as if he couldn't see me. "Thanks."
"There haven't been any new leads to Spencer Hastings whereabouts yet," the officer said. "I'll notify you when there's been a change."
It felt like someone had just slapped me hard across the face. "Toby!" I cried. I shook Toby's shoulder. "Toby, it's me! Look at me!"
Toby stared at me with agonized eyes, and right then I saw how much pain this was causing him. I stepped back, mystified. He didn't know I was alive. Toby thought I was still missing. And then another blur of light shone in front of my face.
My surroundings slowly eased back into plain view as I woke from the dream, but it still clung at the edges of my mind.
The last three weeks had been brutal, not so much because I'd been locked up in my room without any showers or source of hygiene, but because whenever I tried to sleep, the same reoccurring nightmare plagued my mind. Even after the pain from my wrists eventually subsided, the nightmare always came. It was always the same, with me trying to get to Toby, calling out his name. When I realized he couldn't hear me, that there was nothing but emptiness and there would never be any chance of being with him again, I would wake up sobbing. Even though I had no desire to revisit the horrid dream, it followed me during the day like a shadow, playing on a loop. And just when I thought my suffering couldn't get any worse, the nightmare returned at night.
I looked around warily. I was sitting on my clean-lined, four-poster canopy bed in the middle of my bedroom. I felt the fabric of my creamy toile duvet comforter and glanced over at the thonet bentwood rocking chair Toby had made for me in the corner of the room. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my stomach flipped as I realized that this wasn't my bedroom; it was a replica of my room back home. I was still in the Dollhouse.
I threw back the covers and pressed a hand to my stomach, my insides instantly warming at the bulge against my fingers. I was still pregnant. I was wearing a blue argyle cardigan over a light blue collared shirt and beige khaki pants, but I had no memory of changing into it the night before. There was no light coming from the windows blocked off by concrete walls. My eyes adjusted to the dim light as I scanned the room, noticing the whiteboard hanging over my desk. Welcome Home was written across the board, along with a schedule of activities to do during the week.
I glanced towards my bookshelf, which was empty except for a few blank picture frames. The details of last night were fuzzy, but I vaguely remembered hearing wheels squeaking down the hall outside and then the wire mesh door from inside my room sliding open. A moment later, I saw two hands set down a tray of food in front of me.
I'd quickly pushed the tray aside and gotten down on my belly to look through the slot. A girl with Mona's long blonde hair was kneeling down in front of the door, and was dressed in Alison's yellow top from the night she went missing. I had called after her, asking her to help us. My friends' voices echoed from the hallway too, yelling out to her for help. After that, she'd shut the door and run off.
Another memory rushed through me suddenly. The night before Ali took the stand in court for Mona's supposed murder, Toby came to visit me. When he became a police officer to protect me, he had to choose between his job and me. But during our rift, I'd briefly kissed two other guys, and despite my sickening guilt, it felt good to be with someone who wanted me, something that Toby hadn't wanted in a long time. After Toby arrived at my house, he came inside to talk.
He tossed his police badge across the kitchen counter island, his blue eyes hard. Toby didn't speak for a long moment. "I have done a lot to get that. I got my butt kicked in the academy for it, I fought with my dad about it, I even got a buzz cut."
I felt tears brimming over my eyes. I knew perfectly well everything Toby had done for me, and it killed me to know that I was the reason joining the police force was tearing him apart.
"I did it because I was tired of not being able to protect the one person in this world who matters most to me," he went on. "And I am not gonna choose, Spencer. I'm not gonna choose between it and you."
"I never asked you to," I said softly. I averted my eyes away from his face, unable to look at him.
"I know," Toby said. His voice choked with emotion. "But Tanner has." He stepped towards me, closing the space between us. "And that's why I'm gonna tell her if she's not okay with me being with you and being a cop, then she's gonna have to kick me off the force."
I stared at him in shock, my heart thumping hard in my chest. His eyes had glassed over with tears, reflecting my own.
We stood there for a moment, staring at each other in silence. I watched his chest collapse, as if his heart was beating as fast as mine. My lower lip trembled, unsure of what to say. Then, before I could react, Toby grabbed me and instantly smashed his lips onto mine, slipping his tongue into my mouth, sucking me in.
And then, unable to resist him, I grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him back desperately, feeling his lips harden against mine. Toby moved his lips lovingly against mine, twisting his tongue with my own. I melted into him and forgot about everything else, letting all of my worries slip away.
I tilted my head, trying to get even closer. Our lips parted, and Toby slid his arms around my lower back. He recaptured my mouth, kissing me like I was his oxygen and he couldn't breathe without it. My hands ran along his arms, moving from his chest to his face, soaking up the sunlight of his intoxicating kisses.
I locked my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. We let out a series of smacking noises, lost in each other's arms.
It was the most amazing, romantic, passionate, and loving kiss we'd ever had. This was Toby. My perfect, sweet, caring, loving Toby. After all those torturous months of being away from him, I finally felt loved and appreciated again. Toby was my forever.
After spending several minutes kissing endlessly, we broke a kiss that took my breath away. Toby reached out to touch my face and stroked my cheek tenderly. Unable to resist, I leaned my cheek into his hand, kissing the inside of his palm. He trailed his fingers ever so gently over my lips, and I parted them underneath his touch.
"I love you so much," Toby murmured.
He bent his face toward mine again and kissed me full on the mouth. My eyes were still closed when he reluctantly pulled away, in disbelief that this was happening.
"I thought you didn't want me anymore," I breathed, my voice cracking. Finally, I opened my eyes and tears began to form.
Toby stared into their depths, shaking his head at me. "Spencer, nothing could ever make me stop loving you. Nothing. I'll always want you, I'll always love you." He paused, staring at my face, looking vulnerable. "Do you still love me?"
"Toby, my feelings for you will never change," I answered, meeting his eyes. "I will always love you."
Toby greedily placed his hands on both sides of my face and molded his mouth onto mine. I kissed him back, not wanting to stop.
As soon as I felt his body molding against mine, I was reminded that he was really here with me, that tonight was real, and suddenly nothing else mattered. I could feel all my responsibilities, A, and the drama of Alison's trial, slowly seeping out of my body and fading away. The only thing that mattered was that the love of my life was holding me, my soulmate.
Toby quickly unbuttoned my blouse and skirt, and I took off his shirt and pants. We moved over to the living room in a passionate haze, kissing each other all over our bodies. Then we sank down onto the carpeted floor by the fireplace, and he lifted me on top of him. I could feel every muscle in his body as I pressed my thighs hard against him.
The flickering flames from the fireplace cast Toby's face aglow. He grabbed the throw blanket that was resting over the top of the couch and pulled it over us, and we kicked off the rest of our clothes where we had sex. We made love for several hours, grinding and rubbing our bodies against each other. Both the heat of the fire and Toby's body pressed against mine flamed my skin. Afterwards, Toby held me in his arms by the fire the entire night, kissing me and telling me how much he loved me.
When we grew tired from lovemaking, Toby and I fell asleep together on the pillows and covered with the blanket, snuggled up closely in each other's arms.
With my head buried in his chest, Toby kissed my forehead. "I love you, baby," he whispered.
"I love you, too," I whispered back. I couldn't remember feeling so loved in my entire life. I could still feel the brush of his hand against my cheek, of his soft lips on mine.
"Please proceed to Ali's room and prepare for arrival," the voice over the speaker echoed, startling me from the memory.
I jumped and looked to my left at the bedroom door. The sound of the door unlocking thudded in my ears painfully. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and planted my feet on the carpeted floor. I staggered slightly, wincing from a stabbing pain that sliced through my wrists, a reminder of what had happened last night. And just like that, the memories from the last three weeks came floating back to the surface. But I pushed them down, refusing to face the painful events from my memory. I couldn't handle thinking about it.
When I reached the door, I turned the knob and opened it to reveal the lit up hallway. The other three doors opposite mine creaked open as well, and I peeked out into the dim light. Across from me, Aria stood at her door wearing a violet flowing top underneath a black leather jacket, and denim shorts cut off at her thighs over stripped leggings. Her hair had been cropped at her chin, dyed with the same pink stripes that she'd had from ninth grade.
Tentatively, I stepped out into the hall, flinching as the door slammed shut behind me. Then suddenly I saw Emily appear in her blue Rosewood High School swimming jacket and sweatpants as she walked around Aria, and noticed that her expression looked exactly as I felt–pained, distraught. The words to speak stuck in my throat; words couldn't even begin to describe the horrors of what had happened in that locked room.
I looked at Emily, troubled, and she stared back at me for a few long seconds before she finally spoke. "I'd ask if you were okay, but…"
"Let's not talk about what we just went through," Aria cut her off. "At least not until we get out of here."
I felt my eyes water with tears. "I don't know if I could even find the words," I admitted. I heard my voice crack as I said it, taut with emotion.
A door creaked open, and we all turned to find Hanna standing in the doorway behind Emily. She wore a long-sleeved floral black shirt and a pair of slim-fitting orange jeans. They were smudged with dirt and tattered with holes.
I stared at Hanna, noting the evident tortured expression on her face. She swallowed miserably and looked away, avoiding eye contact. I crossed my arms over my chest and bit my lip, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to spill over.
Emily stepped closer to her. "We're all together again. Okay, it's going to be okay." She leaned in closer to Hanna and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her.
Aria glanced down the hall nervously. Her face looked haunted, full of secrets. My lower lip quivered as I let out a shaky breath, following her gaze towards the dark hallway ahead. I shuddered, my thoughts consumed with what would come next.
"Please proceed to Ali's room and prepare for arrival," the voice repeated. We all looked at each other with anxious eyes.
Hanna pulled out of Emily's arms. "I don't wanna get in trouble again. Let's just go."
Everyone watched as Hanna bravely headed down the hall. But after taking a couple steps, she stopped abruptly at the corner. I peered into the hallway. It was dark and wide with cemented ceilings that arched above. Flat cladding moldings ran through the tall, hard grey stone walls and floors, making the house seem colder and more ghostly.
Hanna continued on, and everyone followed. We took slow steps through the gloomy hallway as we followed her. I still wasn't comfortable going to Ali's room, afraid of what I would find there.
The further we walked, the more terrified and uncertain I became. The hallways turned left and right like a maze, confusing me even more. The place was shrouded in darkness except for the lights along the pathway, which glowed eerily against the floor. We passed many doors until we finally reached Alison's.
Finally, we came to a singular white door directly ahead of us, with no other doors on the right and left of us. The hall was narrower than the one we'd come from. My stomach twisted as Hanna pulled the door open, making the hinges creak.
We walked into a replica of Ali's room that looked like something that could have been pulled out of one of Paris' sophisticated townhomes. A floral mural was painted in the corner of the cream-colored wall, with a solid wood vanity and dressing table pushed against the north side. In the center of the room was Alison's deep-coffee full trundle bed with the same gold calligraphy script duvet covers and pillows that we'd all slept on during our many ninth grade sleepovers together, and an elegant soft pink curtain was draped above. The familiarity of the room tightened my nerves.
I noticed a clutter of boxes sitting on top of the bed and stopped short. A million thoughts raced through my mind, but nothing could have prepared me for this. After a moment, Emily moved around Aria and walked into the room.
"Be careful," Aria cautioned.
I moved towards the bed after Emily, and we started to unfold the packed boxes. Inside were pink satin pillows, old books, and some of Ali's clothes. Squinting, I realized it was all Alison's stuff from her bedroom.
Emily pulled out a hanging bedroom sign with a French quote written across. "This is all Ali's stuff from her room at home."
I looked down at the bed and saw a newspaper article sitting next to it. Across the front page was a portrait of Mona from one of her family photo albums and a mug shot of Alison, with the words DILAURENTIS MURDER CONVICTION OVERTURNED written above. My spirits rocketed. Alison's guilty verdict over killing Mona had been overturned.
I picked it up and said, "You guys, Ali's murder conviction was overturned. They're letting her go." I looked up at them with a feeling of relief.
Hanna crossed her arms. "If that's even a real paper."
Emily opened up another box, where a light blue guitar poked out. "How did A get all this stuff?" she wondered out loud.
"You're seriously still asking how?" Aria said sarcastically.
"Yeah, Aria's right," I agreed. "Question down here is why."
"Did A force you guys to sign the welcome card for Ali?" Hanna blurted.
No one answered. I looked at Hanna to see if maybe she was joking, but her mouth was taut and serious. Aria opened her mouth, but no words came out. I suddenly felt very faint.
During the three weeks that A had locked us in our rooms, someone had left a creamy, rectangular envelope in the door slot for me with Alison's name written across the front. When I'd sliced it open with my fingernail, I stared at it in horror. It was a welcome home card for Ali. The front of the card had a picture of a pink house on an apple-green lawn. Printed in rosy-pink letters inside the card read, See You Soon!
What was that supposed to mean?
Several signatures had already been scrawled across the parchment. I stared at the handwriting, immediately recognizing it as Aria, Emily, and Hanna's. My hands shook wildly as I read the messages my friends wrote to Ali. There was a small, square note on heavy cream card stock stuffed inside the envelope, accompanied with a black and white photograph. Someone had written something in big, bold red letters on a post-it note over the photo.
Sign for Ali or your fetus will get a surprise. Kisses! – A
I turned over the photo and my heart dropped. It was an ultrasound snapshot of a woman's uterus, the dark and light shapes blurry and confusing. My uterus. I looked at the familiar inside walls of my stomach. I couldn't tell where the head was, or if it had arms and legs yet.
The picture slipped from my hands and I let out a small gasp of disbelief. But it was the image of my unborn baby that made my stomach heave. What did A want from my baby? How did he perform an ultrasound on me? And how did he know I was pregnant? I hadn't even gone in to see the doctor yet about my pregnancy. The newfound information shook me to the very core.
My breathing picked up as I searched frantically for some sort of clue that could tell me how Charles had gotten the ultrasound, but found nothing. My eyes moved to the A note.
I'd been beyond terrified when I first saw that line of pink on the pregnancy test, but I couldn't imagine losing the baby now. I blinked away tears that began filling my eyes. I rested my palm against the center of my stomach. I can't lose you, I thought to the baby. You're my life now.
I heard a ruffling sound as Emily unwrapped crumpled newspaper paper from one of the boxes, disrupting me from my thoughts. She pulled out a glass-shaped Eiffel tower–I recognized it from Ali's room. Alison had been dreaming of going to Paris for years.
It suddenly hit me, sending my heart dropping at my feet. I could think of a very good reason why A would have taken all of Alison's stuff. A was planning on luring Ali here into the Dollhouse.
"Oh my god," Emily said. "I think we're getting ready for Ali's arrival. The real Ali, not Mona."
I looked down at the newspaper and skimmed over a few lines of the article, trying to find anything that would give us some answers. I gasped when I read the last line of the paragraph. "Oh, Ali. No."
"What?" Aria leaned in to take a look. "What is it, Spence?"
"'DiLaurentis was offered police protection, but declined citing the need to heal privately with her family,'" I read out loud.
"So Ali's a sitting duck," Emily said.
Something whirred above on the ceiling, and we all looked at the blinking camera. I glanced at Aria, Hanna, and Emily worriedly, thinking about who was watching us.
Hanna stared nervously into the camera and then stepped towards us. "If A brings Ali here, does that mean that he won't need Mona anymore?"
"So where is she?" Aria demanded.
Everyone fell silent. I cut my eyes away, my stomach spinning in relentless circles.
As the others unpacked more boxes of stuff, I rifled through one that was full of Alison's childhood toys that she'd had as a kid. Aria began putting away Ali's clothes in the wardrobe closet on the far right by the bed, while Emily unfolded more crumpled newspaper at Ali's cherry-wood dresser that A had used as tissue paper for the more fragile items.
Sitting beside me in a French split loveseat, Hanna examined a small, tawny scrapbook filled with photos of us from ninth grade–I recognized it from the day we'd spent at the lake by the Kissing Rock. We used to hang out there during our summers with Ali. "I can't believe Ali saved this. This is from the day we were at the lake."
I glanced at a photo on one of the pages. It was of all of us lying on our backs together on the fresh summer grass, grinning from ear to ear, as happy as fifteen-year-old best friends could be. Another was of us all lying out on the sand by the lake, wearing nothing but our bikinis, except for Hanna who had refused to strip down to nothing but her baby-blue oversize T-shirt and boyshorts. Several lush photographs of the five of us together were glued to the pages.
Back in ninth grade, Ali was the kind of person who would start rumors just to torment people. It was Ali who called Jenna Marshall Jenna the Jerk. She'd spread the rumor that Toby sacrificed squirrels. She insulted everyone and they just took it.
"Well, Ali was in rare form that day, remember?" I said. "She insulted everyone we'd ever met." I went back to the box and continued to search through it.
"We let her call Lucas, Hermie," Hanna pointed out.
An uncomfortable, guilty feeling washed over me. Lucas Gottesman was a boy in our grade at Rosewood High and used to be one of Alison's favorite targets. He had a huge crush on Hanna before she started dating her new boyfriend, Caleb Rivers, who was kind and sweet to Hanna, and also happened to be a genius at hacking computers and people's phones. The rumor about Lucas being a hermaphrodite had started when he'd accidently spilled his drink all over her boots in the Rosewood High hallway. Ali had mercilessly laughed and called him Hermie in front of the entire school.
"We let her blind Jenna," Aria piped up.
"We are not the same people we were back then," Emily said, looking at us. "Including Ali."
I peered into the box that I had been rummaging through and picked up a wooden toy sailboat with a string rope attached, painted red, blue, and white. It looked dusty, as if a much younger Alison had just left for dinner and would be back any minute to resume playing. There was the brown stuffed teddy bear that Ali had when she was seven, a ballerina jewelry box, and multi-colored dance scarfs were still strewn over the top.
I lifted the boat over and saw someone's initials carved in the wood on the front: C.D–Charles DiLaurentis. I frowned. Why would Charles' things be in Alison's stuff from home? Then something in my mind clicked, like two important mechanism gears finally joining together. The familiar feeling of déjà vu settled over me once again, except this time I was getting the strong sense that Charles and Alison grew up together. Maybe Charles was related to the DiLaurentis family somehow. And maybe he had darker secrets than we did.
A horrible, swooping feeling began to wash over me. I didn't have much evidence to back up the theory, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. And it explained a lot of other things, too. Like why Alison's mother always seemed to favor Ali over Jason. How there were almost no photos of him in the family albums. Maybe the DiLaurentis family weren't snubbing him after all–maybe they were hiding pictures of Charles for some unexplained reason. But why hadn't they told Alison or Jason about him? It all seemed so bizarre.
Remembering we were being watched, I looked up at the camera in the corner of the ceiling. A was somewhere in the Dollhouse, watching us from the set-up cameras in every room. If this A really knew everything about us and could see our every move–and was poised to hurt us at any moment–then it was going to be harder than I'd thought to get out of here alive.
"Hey, Spence, can you come help me with this?" Aria called from beside the closet.
I looked up, startled, and quickly hid the toy car behind the box. "What?" I pretended to keep sorting through the box of Ali's things. "Help you with what?"
"Uh, the rod's just a bit loose."
"Um, I don't know," I replied. "Hanna, can you please do it?"
"She's busy," Aria said quickly. She gave me a knowing look.
Unwillingly, I got up and walked over to where Aria was standing at the closet. "What?" I said, and froze.
Carved in the wood in the back of the closet were five simple words:
HE'S GOING TO KILL ME – M
I realized that Mona must have written the message for us when she'd been in here, the same room she was sleeping in as Alison. The blood pounding behind my ears made it hard to stay upright. This was it–Charles was going to kill Mona. And we were the dolls playing along in his game.
"You see what I mean?" Aria asked in her most casual-sounding voice.
"Oh, yeah, I see," I said. I tried to keep my voice light.
Emily turned around, meeting my eyes. I stared back at her, hoping the fear wasn't evident on my face. Hanna, who was still flipping through Ali's old scrapbook, followed Emily's gaze. I was too terrified to move. My mind still couldn't process the horror and the confusion of what I had just discovered.
A wouldn't need Mona around as Alison anymore now that he would be abducting her soon. What good would she be to him now?
I knew we needed to leave this place, but how long would our families keep looking for us until they finally lost hope? Or would Charles go back for them and kill them, too? And what was worse, he could kill Toby…
My heart throbbed painfully in my chest. Even being separated from him now, imagining Toby getting hurt in any way tore at my insides like a blunt knife ripping into my skin. It was not something I cared to think about, ever. Wherever Toby was, I prayed desperately that he was safe. But one thing remained clear.
We were all going to die.
Toby
"Andrew Campbell remains the top suspect of the kidnapping case and he's presumed to be dangerous," a newscaster from the security tape reported.
Detective Barry and I sat at the police station's mahogany table inside the break room, watching footage from the press conference of the news report that they had filmed prior to Alison's disappearing act a couple hours ago. The room was small, with bland white walls, and the lights were dimmed. A box marked EVIDENCE sat on top of the table, full of files of the kidnapping case.
I rested my elbow on the solid wood, my hand pressed against the side of my face, resisting the urge to gauge my eyes out of boredom. The last few hours had been agonizingly long. We'd been watching the security tape from the camera that had been set up outside of the DiLaurentis home in the hopes of catching something suspicious, but for the last two hours nothing had changed. I couldn't concentrate on anything but Spencer's face, of her beautiful chocolate-brown doe eyes looming in my mind. Every time I tried to relax, the anxious feeling dwelling in my body shot through me, growing stronger than ever.
A new picture appeared on the screen as Barry clicked on the nine o'clock news. The camera focused on the building at Radley Sanitarium, stating it would be closing soon, before cutting back to the newscaster in front of Alison's house. "The four teen girls who were abducted–"
The computer screen faded to a neon blue as it switched back to the video from the DiLaurentis property, where curious bystanders loitered around. No one had seen or heard from Alison since she met up with Caleb and Ezra in the woods to find the girls. But I knew exactly where she was.
Fifteen minutes after I left the DiLaurentis house with Tanner and Detective Maple, I'd received a text message from Caleb saying that he and Ezra tracked Alison to the Kissing Rock to meet A just as we'd planned. Caleb had inserted a GPS tracking device in a pair of high heels for Alison so they could transport the signal to a satellite, enabling us to follow her right to the girls.
The camera continued to focus on Alison's house, and the time from the clock on the far wall sent me panicking. Maybe A wouldn't wait for Alison to show up after all.
I felt the first tremors of a new kind of fear cascading through me. Every minute that ticked by intensified my dread, but only one thing was on my mind: keeping Spencer safe. She was in the worst possible danger and I was powerless to do anything about it. The realization absolutely terrified me.
"No one moves from that spot, you hear me?"
I looked up as Tanner strode into the room, barking into her black iPhone. She stood in a sleek black suit, but had taken off her jacket, revealing a deep blue button-down shirt.
Tanner hung up, seeming all business. "No sign of Alison or Andrew at the Campbell Farm." There was an edge to her tone as she turned to me. "If you have any idea where she could be right now, you better tell me before it's too late."
She stared down at me with skeptical eyes. Eyes that were trained to filter out lies. My eyes flickered to the wall nervously, ruining my bluff. I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The question made me stall.
But before I could think of a good lie, Barry peered into the computer screen, frowning. "Did you see that?"
When neither of us responded, he nodded toward the video. "Look. Behind the reporter."
Tanner and I leaned in to take a closer look. After rewinding for a few seconds, Barry paused the tape. "There. The guy in the hat."
Sure enough, a boy who resembled a lot like Andrew stood behind the news reporter–tall, muscular physique, with dark blonde hair–and had a charcoal grey baseball cap concealing his face. He walked towards a small navy-blue Sedan that was parked behind the news van truck.
"That could be him," I said. "That could be Andrew."
"Can you get a plate number?" Tanner asked him.
Barry zoomed into the video frame of the car's license plate and enhanced the image, showing three single numbers. "Here we go," he said after a moment. "Blue sedan with a partial plate. 1-8-0. That's the best we're gonna get."
Tanner headed for the hall. "I'll call it in."
I watched as she walked away, my stomach twisting in knots. I had to stop myself from shaking, and I wondered if Tanner noticed. Lying wasn't my forte. The only time I ever lied was for Spencer. Making tough decisions was one of the things I hated most about being a police officer–it was what nearly tore me apart from my relationship with Spencer.
Tanner seemed normal, but I could've sworn she could see right through me.
An hour later, I sat in the back room of the station amidst the indiscreet chatter from the other deputies outside. In the police bullpen, phones were ringing off the hooks. The kidnapping case had been all anyone could talk about.
And then my phone rang, making my heart jump. I'd been feeling on edge ever since Caleb and Ezra drove down the highway to follow Alison to the Kissing Rock. I pulled it out of my pocket, wondering if it was Caleb with any news of the girls' whereabouts.
I answered on the first ring. "Caleb?"
"We're at Tyler State Park," Caleb answered. "Make sure Tanner and the cops get here." My eyes widened. Tyler Park was thirty-one miles away, in the middle of nowhere of Bucks County.
"What happened to Ali?" I glanced at the closed door leading out into the hallway. "She was supposed to meet A at the Kissing Rock."
"We lost her on the highway. She stopped just outside Tyler Park."
A cold sweat gathered at the back of my neck. "What?"
"Just tell Tanner you found the stolen car at Tyler Park," Caleb said. "We'll meet you there after we find Ali." He abruptly hung up. I slipped my phone into its holster, feeling my pulse quicken.
I stood, walking out into the hall toward the break room. The fluorescent lights beamed down on me harshly. Several cops stopped and stared at me as I turned the corner.
I knocked on the solid wood door before quickly entering the room. Tanner looked up from reading a brown leather journal, which I presumed Andrew had used to keep tabs on the girls.
"We got a lead on Campbell's car," I explained breathlessly. "A vehicle matching that description was reported stolen two weeks ago. We got the rest of the plate number and we tracked it to a toll road." My words spurred out incoherently.
"Where?" Tanner asked.
"Outside Tyler State Park," I said.
"Okay, let's go." Tanner stood up, grabbed her jacket, and pulled her car keys out of her pocket as she followed me out to the squad car.
Spencer
Later that night, I stood in my room, staring at the unmarked box of my things from my bedroom back home. After A had sent all of us back to our rooms, I'd found a box sitting on top of my bed filled with all my stuff and had been trying to calm myself down ever since. But as I looked through it, my eyes glazed over.
Nestled in a heap of clothes in the corner of the box was a gold necklace where a Scrabble tile hung from the chain, with the letter of my first initial engraved into the tile. It was the necklace Toby had given me when he'd come over to my house after our cancelled romantic date, a reminder of our night together at the Edgewood Motor Court motel.
Two years ago, Toby and I suspected Jenna was the one who'd planted a jacket Alison had been wearing the night she went missing inside his closet to frame him for her murder, so we stayed overnight at the motel where we thought she had checked into, in the room next door. While we waited, I played a heated game of Scrabble with Toby, which he gleefully beat me. We ended up cuddling in bed together, with me sleeping in his shirt, as I didn't have anything else to wear that night. Then, outside in the parking lot the following morning, Toby kissed me for the very first time.
A new memory swarmed through me then, pulling me in against my control. I could see Toby's face, hear his velvet-soft voice, remembering the way he'd held me against him the day I'd lost my necklace. It had happened during a rainy day back in February. I'd gone into a crying fit when I realized that I couldn't find it and tore apart my room looking for it. Toby had come upstairs into my bedroom and found me in hysterics. "Spence, what's wrong?" he'd asked me, taking my hands.
I looked up into his eyes, saw the concern on his face, and couldn't seem to stop my lower lip from trembling as more tears slid down my cheeks. "I lost the necklace," I wept. "I've looked everywhere, I can't find it."
Toby reached out to stroke my cheeks with his thumbs, wiping away the tears. "Then I'll help you find it. I don't care if you lost the necklace, I care about you. I love you."
When I gazed back into his eyes, I realized how true those words were, and my heart instantly melted.
"I love you, too," I whispered. I reached up on my tiptoes to meet his lips, and we kissed with the sound of the rain hitting against the glass window outside.
Toby cupped the back of my head as he moved his lips slowly against mine, lingering. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging to him, every touch sending tingles all over my skin. In that moment, I knew there was no one else for me. And there was no doubt in my mind that we would always be meant for each other, of how well we fit.
I sighed against Toby's lips, and he pulled me against his chest, stroking my hair gently. I closed my eyes, feeling my heartbeat slow.
Suddenly, the rest of the world came hurtling back, and the agony pierced me as I grappled with the irreparable loss. The hollow sadness that I'd been able to ignore resurfaced, overtaking me. Toby.
My chest tightened thinking about him, struggling to breathe. I didn't want to be here. I needed Toby, my safe place to land. I bit my lip, trying to keep myself from crying.
My fingers clutched at the necklace. Even in the dim light of my room, it gleamed, the gold glinting like diamonds. I closed my eyes, picturing Toby's blue eyes and angel face.
Then something occurred to me. I'd lost my necklace months ago, and I hardly found it a coincidence that it suddenly reappeared after A kidnapped me and my friends. I felt my whole body leaden as I had a sinking thought. Stashing away our stuff in orderly boxes constituted advanced planning, so Charles must have been preparing to lock us up here for years. What did he want? How was he connected to the DiLaurentis family? Staying here in my room was not an option right now.
I slipped from my room, with no idea where I was going. The only thing guiding my sense of direction were the twisting hallways of the house. As I walked, I stroked the Scrabble tile necklace with my forefinger, memorizing the lines and details, the way it felt in my hand. Toby had given me this necklace as a symbol of his devotion to me. It was the only thing I had left of him now.
My somber thoughts were interrupted by the soft voices coming from down the hall, and I noticed Emily and Aria had gathered in Hanna's room. I glanced at the door cautiously. Part of me wanted to see my friends, to find out what they knew about the strange boxes appearing in our rooms, but another part of me was still too unsettled by this place. Too many things about the Dollhouse filled me with terror. Not only by A, but my own choices as well. What could I have possibly done to Charles that would make him want to trap my friends and I in here?
Taking a deep breath, I followed Aria and Emily into Hanna's room. The walls were painted with black and pink floral pedals against creamy beige wallpaper and only a few lamps glowed, illuminating the low light of the broad space. Another security camera was hitched above in the very corner of the ceiling, blinking a bright red. I found Hanna sitting on the floor at the edge of her upholstered bed, reading a newspaper from the Rosewood Observer, which was very unlike Hanna. Her face was tight. Emily was holding a gold swimming medal she'd won at one of her swim meets in ninth grade. Aria clutched her pig puppet, Pigtunia, in her hands that her dad had gotten her when she was ten. Something was wrong.
"You got a box, too," Emily said, looking at Hanna. Still, Hanna didn't look up.
Aria gripped Pigtunia in her hand furiously, clenching her teeth together. "A is making this house our home."
"You guys, Charles took our stuff before he took us." I looked at Aria and Emily, holding the necklace carefully in between my fingers. "I thought that I lost this ages ago."
"A planned on binging us here the whole time," Emily realized. "To live like his dolls."
Hanna stood up, the paper in her hands. "This article is about our families. All of them." She handed it to Aria. "They're barely hanging onto hope."
Hope breeds eternal misery. The words echoed in my head from the distant memory, the same words that had come out of my own mouth. The room spun, making me dizzy. My knees threatened to give out while I stared at Hanna. Had I known how true those words were now, I never would have uttered them.
"I don't wanna hear that," Emily said. "Like you said that's probably not even real."
I could barely hear her from the blood rushing in my ears. I peered over Aria's shoulder at the newspaper and scanned the page. I read the section four times before it sunk in.
"Well, real or not, they don't know where we are," Aria said, her eyes watering. "They don't even know if we're alive."
I felt my throat constrict, thinking about where Toby was. A sad, tender look crossed Emily's face and she looked down.
"Can you just imagine what they're going through?" Aria added.
"It plays in my head on a loop," I said quietly. "Day after day, night after night."
I felt my insides twisting in anguish, picturing the panic and the worry Toby was suffering at my expense. Surely, he believed it was his fault that I'd been kidnapped and that I was possibly dead. Maybe time had weakened his will to find me, to keep the hope alive. The pain burned through my chest from the thought–the aching loss that sent wreaking waves of hurt through my limbs.
I was gripped in a sudden agony of despair so intense that it caused me physical, emotional pain as I considered the idea that Toby would have stopped looking for me. My eyes glassed over with tears. What if I never saw him again? He couldn't give up on me. I didn't want him to lose hope. I was still here, and I was alive.
Aria whirled around to face the camera attached to the ceiling, her eyes blazing with fury. "I will kill you for what you're doing to our families! Do you hear me?"
Emily and I quickly grabbed Aria by the shoulders, trying to calm her. "Aria, stop," I said to her. "Calm down."
Aria stopped squirming, but her eyes stayed focused intently on A's security camera, which continued to blink bright red. I realized that it reminded me of one of those red-eyed monsters from Grimm fairytales.
I reread the newspaper article on one of the pages. It read, The four teen girls who were abducted a month ago are still missing. Their friend, Alison DiLaurentis' murder conviction was recently overturned due to evidence of Mona Vanderwaal's possible survival. DiLaurentis was offered police protection, but declined, citing the need to heal privately with her family. Andrew Campbell, a star athlete and honor roll student of Rosewood High School, remains the top suspect in the kidnapping case and is presumed to be dangerous.
"Not knowing if we're okay has made my mom physically sick," Hanna said glumly. "They took her to the hospital." She sniffled.
I looked up, feeling more thick tears blurring my vision.
Aria put a hand on Hanna's arm. "Hanna…"
I pressed my lips together, choking back a sob. "Hanna…" I trailed off, when suddenly an idea struck me.
I set down the newspaper and searched through Hanna's box for something to write with so A couldn't see. "Let's just all help Hanna unpack," I told the others.
I found a plush brown bear wedged in between a set of My Little Ponies and a makeup kit. Emily and Aria looked at me quizzically.
I looked to Hanna and handed her the stuffed bear, who was staring at me with a blank expression on her face. "Hanna, I'm gonna help you unpack." I lowered my voice. "We're gonna find Mona and we're gonna get out of here tonight."
"How?" Emily whispered.
Instead of answering, I grabbed a red Etch-A-Sketch from the top of the box. "Did you guys know that, um, I won an Etch A Sketch contest when I was in third grade?" I stuttered.
"Of course you did," Aria said flatly.
"I can draw some really, really pretty pictures." I made my voice as soft as I could. "The generator still shuts down with the switch-over."
"Yeah, I heard it too, but I was too scared to leave my room," Emily whispered back, eyeing the camera.
I turned the knobs on the Etch-A-Sketch to scribble a note across the board: Charles is a DiLaurentis. When I was finished, I lifted it over to show Aria, Emily, and Hanna what I had written.
"See?" I stared at them meaningfully, trying to get the message through to them.
Everyone stared at my note with wide eyes, looking stunned. Aria glanced involuntarily towards the camera, reminding us that Charles was watching.
"How are we supposed to get into the vault without A punishing us again?" Aria whispered.
"When the generator shuts down, we get into the vault," I said quietly. "But we have to do it fast. We only have three minutes until the power turns back on again."
Emily hesitated. "What if we get caught again?"
"We won't this time," I replied confidently. "We wait until midnight to go into the vault, so A won't be watching. Then we'll grab Mona and run." My determination was fueled by the desire to escape this horrid hellhole tonight.
"Let's do it," Aria said.
We all turned to her in surprise. "I want to end this," she explained.
"It might work–and it's our only option," I whispered.
"How are we supposed to get Mona out?" Emily asked silently. "We have no idea where she is."
"After we leave the vault, we'll look for Mona," I said calmly. "Charles won't be able to stop us once we're out."
"And if this doesn't work?" Hanna asked skeptically.
"I have a plan. If we don't try this tonight, we may never get another chance. Charles could hurt Mona." Despite my brave words, I was shaking on the inside. I thought about Toby, miserable and alone, and then tried to muster up some courage.
We could do this. All of us could.
I was lying on the side of my bed, but I was too wired to sleep. The only light in the room was coming from the lamp on the bedside table. My mind spun as I went over the plan for the eighth time that night. This wasn't going to be easy. If Charles was in fact a DiLaurentis, then all of his most valuable possessions were inside the vault and we could try to use them in exchange for our freedom. But there was still the important question of how.
After I'd snuck into the vault on the night of our fake prom, Charles had lurked behind me, ready to pounce. But when Mona entered the room looking for me, he mysteriously disappeared. He couldn't have magically vanished out of thin air–he must have found some other way out. I was sure there had to be a trap door or a secret entryway in the game room leading into the vault, since the vault was on the other side of the room. But the strategy that mattered most were the number of steps from the prom room to the vault, which I had counted in methodical order of eighty-four steps. There was no way Charles could have walked the distance between those two rooms in only a matter of seconds without a secret door. But there was more. During Alison's murder trial, Emily, Aria and I had gone over to the Vanderwaal house to look for clues to the murder. As we searched Mona's old room, I'd found a handheld mirror on the dresser and removed the glass, pulling out a notecard: Chandelier's rituals. Sister launched lair. A ruler's list chained.
I'd stared at Mona's note hard. It looked as if it had been spelled incorrectly, as if it was saying something different. Mona had the IQ of a hacking genius–why would she be putting together random words? Something about the note seemed strange at the time, and now I knew why. It was actually an anagram for Charles DiLaurentis. The sentences had been spelled out in perfect chronicle grammar, but the same amount of words were arranged in different order, which spelled out C-H-A-R-L-E-S D-I-L-A-U-R-E-N-T-I-S.
And then I heard it. The loud, clanging sound drummed in my ears and buzzed, vibrating throughout the walls of the house.
I sat up in bed to the sound of the generator shutting down again. I was acutely alert, my skin tingling to life. I reached for the doorknob slowly, listening for the noise to stop. When the power shut off, I pulled the door open. I sprinted down the hall towards Hanna's room and peered inside the room, lingering in the doorway.
"Hanna," let's go," I said urgently when I spotted her. Hanna had been sitting in the small, empty space of her closet with a picture frame in her hands.
Hanna quickly got to her feet, and we raced through the dark hallway. When we met up with Aria and Emily, I hastily guided them through the blackness. I finally broke the silence, keeping my voice low in case Charles was still listening.
"Chandelier's rituals," I said, recalling the note Mona had left for us. "Sister launched lair, a ruler's list chained. They're all anagrams."
"For Charles DiLaurentis." Hanna said the words slowly, emphasizing the last words.
I marched around a corner. "Some of those toys in Ali's room were hers, but some of them were his."
"I feel like they grew up together," Aria broke in.
We moved deeper within the labyrinth of the house, twisting through corridors and more hallways. At last, we stood at a charcoal granite-stone door that led to the vast game room beyond.
"If I'm right, everything that matters most to Charles is in this vault," I said. "And if we can get in there, we can use what's inside to bargain our way out." I turned around to look directly at them.
"Yeah, but Mona said we won't make it to the vault before the power comes on," Emily argued.
"Okay, well if I'm right, this is as far as we need to go," I replied stubbornly. I yanked open the heavy door, making a low whine. "I counted the steps to the vault from the prom room."
I rushed to the cherry-wood bunk bed that was overlapping with big, stuffed animals and flung them to the floor to clear the bed.
"Of course you did," Emily said in a slightly annoyed voice.
"It's eighty-four," I countered, ignoring her. "And that's just one hallway over. Coming back this way, it's eighty-one steps. I think the vault is on the other side of this wall."
"Yeah, but how does that help us?" Emily asked. "We can't bust through there."
"Charles disappeared like Houdini when Mona came into the room," I said anxiously. "So there's gotta be like a secret passageway, or like a trapdoor or something."
I crawled onto the lower mattress and traced my hands along the back of the cement wall, searching for an opening of some kind of door. Then I pounded on it with the heels of my palms, trying to break through the wall completely.
After a couple minutes, my palms started to ache and tingle with numbness. Still, I continued to hit the wall with extreme force, trying to figure out where the possible entryway inside the vault was, but I couldn't feel anything hollow.
"Wait, do you guys hear that?" Hanna said, sounding panicked. "I think the generator is coming back on."
I strained my ears to listen for the sound, but couldn't hear anything. Suddenly, the lamps on the tables flickered on and a high-pitched siren blared inside the room. I covered my ears, trying to block out the roaring noise.
"He knows that we're out," Aria yelled.
"Just help me move it." I moved to the end of the bunk bed and clutched at the solid wood, trying to push it back. "Come on!"
I pushed with all my strength, but it wouldn't budge. Nothing was working, even when I leaned my weight against the bed to try to make it move. I let out a groan as I pushed harder with my hands.
"There's something behind this," Emily announced.
I looked over across the room and saw Emily hovering over a stark white cabinet. Several German antique dolls adorned the top, and the glass doors were filled with tons of board games. A small, bright light shone from a crack in the wall.
She pressed her hands against the cabinet and started to move it back. "Come on, it could be like a passageway or something."
Aria, Hanna and I moved over to cabinet and helped Emily push it away from the wall. Finally, it scraped across the hardwood floor. When we scooted it forward, I noticed a metal-looking air vent nailed into the wall. Emily dug her nails into the grille of the vent, grunting in frustration as she tugged off the steel door.
A second later, the siren stopped. A nervous, jittery feeling coursed through me. After a pause, Emily crawled into the open space. "Come on!"
"Go." I pushed Aria forward and climbed in after Emily.
I pushed my hands and knees forward, crawling through the low, arched vent. Inside it was dark, but I could just make out a sphere of light seeping in from the other end of the entryway. My pulse quickened in fear as we hurried through the vent. The ground beneath our feet began to turn cold, making me shiver.
We faced another steel door with small, open gaps. Emily shoved it open and climbed through into the room. The door fell over with a clang. I crawled out and stood, surveying the room.
Unlike the rest of the rooms, the walls were paneled in wood, the floor carpeted in a posh, thin burgundy carpeted floor. There were no windows, but large photographs lined the walls everywhere. Elegant, silver-colored chairs were arranged by a popcorn machine, and the table sitting beside it held a video projector with a velvet red cloth underneath. Beside it lay a stack of film reels. In the middle of the room was a large, white blackout cloth. It reminded me a movie theatre.
I gaped in astonishment at an ivory infant's shirt that hung inside a black wooden frame on the wall. The center of the shirt read, IT'S A BOY! on a round, blue sticker. Two baby portraits were shown underneath, along with two matching square boxes of the birth announcements.
Near the door was a glass side table, full of childhood toys inside. Framed photographs of two little boys sat on the surface. They looked to be toddlers, with pale blonde hair, and enchanting blue eyes–the same boys from the movie that I'd watched when I had snuck in after running out of the prom room.
"A does have a soul," Emily said, sounding bewildered.
I walked over to the movie projector and clicked on the power button. The others turned as the same video I'd seen started to play.
"Wanna say goodnight to your sister…and give a little kiss?" I listened to the sound of Jessica DiLaurentis' voice. "What a good boy you are."
Jessica was kneeling in front of the Campbell barn with the small toddlers, and they leaned down to kiss a baby wrapped in a yellow blanket. "Oh, good boys, good boys."
I took a couple steps and stared straight into the camera. "Game on, Charles." The mechanical whirring continued and the small light flashed red, indicating that Charles was still watching.
My body filled with rage, and the sudden adrenaline made me forget all my fear. Turning, I reached out to grab the reel of film, holding it still while it rolled. I stared at the blackout cloth with fierce determination. Suddenly, flames of fire licked the film projector. A sudden bright, orange light flickered across the screen, illuminating the dimness of the room.
I pulled the burning reel out of the projector and held it up to the camera for Charles to see. "We want Mona back!" I demanded.
When nothing happened, I glanced back at the others questionably. Aria nodded. "Let's torch this place."
Hanna pulled out a porcelain baby doll from an oval-shaped crib that faced an empty fireplace. I lifted the reel to the doll, and it burst into flames within seconds.
Hanna raised the lit up doll as she stared at the camera, her eyes flashing. Then she tossed it into the crib, watching as the flames leapt up.
Aria looked at us uneasily. "Guys, what if A is not watching us? What if we're the only ones here?"
The fire started to spread. Sparks crackled from the crib and the flickering flames swept rapidly over the floor. The room smelled like burning hair.
We all jumped back, frightened. The heat from the fire warmed my skin. Terror seized me as I felt shivers of panic trembling through my body.
"What do we do?" Emily yelled in panic. "It's spreading too fast."
I looked at the others. "There's just no way I'm dying in this hellhole."
"We are not giving up," Hanna added.
We looked around the room frantically for something, anything, to stop the fire. The flames flew higher, engulfing the crib and everything in it. I felt my stomach clench up.
"Okay, we–we just need to find a blanket or something," Aria stuttered.
Emily started to pull down a red curtain that was tied back nearby the vent. "Here." She turned to Aria. "Aria, help me pull this down."
Aria and Emily yanked down the curtain and then each let out a terrified gasp. Hanna and I turned around and gasped as well.
Standing in the glass partition facing us was Charles. He was dressed in his usual black hoodie, but a black mask covered his face, making it hard to distinguish any facial features.
"Oh my god," Emily gasped.
I looked through the glass with wide, stunned eyes. Charles stood motionless behind the glass, but there was something in his stance that made me think he wasn't just here for the fire. I felt extremely unsettled being so close to him.
Emily started to panic. "Okay. Grab everything. The pictures, the baby clothes, and throw them in the fire."
Aria stared angrily through the glass window at Charles. "Say goodbye to your soul."
One by one, we tore the picture frames from the walls and grabbed every one of Charles' childhood toys that we could find, and tossed them into the pool of flames. Within seconds, the fire poured out, consuming everything in its path, fueled by the dolls and picture frames that were thrown in.
When I turned around, Charles was gone. A moment later, the house's fire alarm started to blare. I stared at the raging fire as the sprinklers above the ceiling shot out, spraying us in water, followed by the click of a lock. I turned, and saw the door to the vault opening.
"Let's go," I said, heading for the opened door. "Let's go!" Aria, Hanna, Emily and I sprinted out of the room, racing through the halls.
I didn't look behind me as I ran, paying attention to only the ground beneath my feet. We ran to every door, searching every crevice, every hallway for Mona.
"Mona!" I cried. "Mona, where are you?"
Thick smoke poured out from the vault. It filled my lungs, and I struggled to breathe. We rushed through the dark corridors, calling for Mona. I flung open the door in front of me and it opened up into a large, dimly lit stone space. A wide, round open hole was set into the center of the cavernous room.
It looked like a well, the stone curving above the floor. The hole was huge and black. There were no windows, except for the wall lights by the door, swallowing everything in near darkness.
"I'm down here," a voice came from far below. "Help me, please." It was Mona.
I leaned over the large gap, and my jaw dropped. Standing at the bottom of the dark hole was Mona. Her arms were wrapped around herself fearfully, and she still wore the same yellow top from three weeks ago. Smudges of dirt covered her arms and face, and her hair was tousled and dirty. The hole had to be a twenty-foot drop, covered in thick dirt at the bottom.
"Oh my god," Mona sobbed hysterically. "Help me, please."
Aria pointed to a bundle of thick rope tied together by the hole, and I immediately grabbed it off the pavement. "Hold on, hold on, hold on," I said.
"Please get me out," I heard Mona plead.
"Mona, hang on," Hanna reassured her. "We're gonna get you out of here."
Mona's echoing whimpers turned into a wail, her sobs growing more desperate. Aria, Hanna, and Emily and I struggled to untangle the rope as the crying intensified.
"Are you okay?" I asked Mona.
"Mona, just hang on, okay?" Hanna called. "We're gonna get you out."
Untying the last knot, we threw the rope over the edge, letting it drop to the ground below. Mona's body trembled as she ran towards the rope. Then, we gripped it as hard as we could and pulled her up.
Hanna and Aria grabbed her hands as she climbed up, swinging her legs over. Hanna and I put our arms around Mona and began to move her towards the door, at the end of the hall. Aria clung onto me as I helped Hanna guide Mona through the maze of hallways.
Emily rushed ahead of us, leading the way to the exit. Everything was engulfed in gloom, but not black. A soft light from above flooded onto the floor, illuminating the wide space.
"Come on, it's this way," Emily said. The sound of her voice echoed through the blackness.
There was a squared-off dead end at the flat, cement-paved wall, where a ladder disappeared upwards into the long, cylindrical tunnel. Emily didn't hesitate as she hurried toward the far side of the wall. She positioned her feet on the bottom of the ladder and began to climb up. Hanna, Mona, and Aria followed quickly after her.
I climbed up next, pushing myself up the steel ladder until my hands grew worn with soreness and my knees scathed against the bars. The sound of my feet on the bars of the ladder echoed through the emptiness.
The tunnel continued to move upwards, taking us further away from the ground, making me claustrophobic. At the end of the silo were thick, heavy iron doors. I was too afraid to look up when I heard a whining above, like the grating of metal.
Emily climbed through the doors that now stood open and hurried on into a dim light that glowed ahead. I squinted against the faint brightness.
The others hurried through the silo, coughing and panting heavily from the smoke that was wafting up. Smoke poured into the structure, enveloping me like a sheet. It filled my nose and my throat closed.
Voices from the other side of the doors filled my ears, and my heart stopped. I knew who that was.
We all tumbled out through the billowing smoke and I glanced around me in relief, where Ezra, Caleb, and Alison stood by the doors. Sirens wailed in the distance as fire trucks stopped at the back of the Dollhouse. Police cars and ambulance vehicles were everywhere.
Everyone was embracing, oblivious to the flurry of activity around us. Hanna sobbed in Caleb's arms, holding onto him tightly. Emily was moving quickly towards Ali and then they hugged.
"You're okay," Ezra said breathlessly as he picked up Aria easily into his arms. "I thought I'd lost you." His curly, dark-brown hair looked tangled and there was a bruise on his left hand.
I had my arms around Mona's shoulders extra tight, and she clung onto me. Cops got out of the cruisers and ran for the house with guns to search the house, but I didn't see Toby anywhere. An indistinct chatter fell over the yard as they filtered out of the trees.
A feeling of dread swept through me then. What if something terrible had happened to Toby? Maybe he was hurt. I'd been missing all those weeks and he had no idea where I was, not knowing if I was even alive. And then I remembered the dream I'd had of Toby looking over my file. The police station. That dark room. The pained look on his face. We haven't given up yet, the police officer had told him. Toby could have lost all hope of finding me, and he might have…
No…
As my eyes scanned frantically for Toby, news helicopters hovered overhead.
"Spencer?"
Relief washed over me. Toby was standing among the other police officers, staring desperately at me with concern. He put his gun back into its holster when his eyes found mine, focusing on me as if he couldn't believe he had found me. My heart skipped several beats.
Toby was just as devastatingly handsome as I'd remembered. He was tall and lean, but muscular, and his normally dark-brown windswept hair was combed back. Gorgeous deep blue eyes were set on a well, high cheek-boned face, with kissable full pink lips.
"Toby," I breathed. "Oh my god."
Glancing back at Mona, I ran towards Toby, trying to close those last few feet separating us, not caring who was watching. Then I threw myself into his arms, gasping. Tears streaked down my face.
Toby's arms immediately wrapped around me, holding me tightly against him, and a sense of security and comfort washed over me instantly. I was finally safe. Toby rocked me back and forth as he held me securely in his strong arms.
I felt his heart beating against my chest, and I clutched myself closer to him. Toby pressed his face into my hair as I sobbed into his shoulder. After a moment, I pressed my hand to his cheek and breathlessly crushed my mouth to his, soaking him all in. Our tongues molded together effortlessly.
We made a series of smacking and slurping noises as we kissed feverishly, and I moved my lips against his in a passionate hunger. I grabbed the back of Toby's neck and kissed him harder, whimpering against his lips.
"We know who it is," I gasped. "We have a name."
"It's Andrew, babe," Toby said. "And we're gonna get him."
Though I couldn't help but feel fluttery at the mention of his new nickname for me, I stared back at him in confusion. His eyes flashed with determination and he set his jaw. Before I could say another word, Toby pulled me back into his arms and continued to rock me. I clung onto him, pressing my face into his shoulder.
Andrew was A? how could he and Charles be the same person? I'd been sure Charles was related to the DiLaurentis family.
"Hey, there's another girl down here," I heard one of the policemen shout.
Toby and I pulled out of each other's arms and looked toward the Dollhouse in alarm. The voice was coming from underground. The others turned to see what was going on.
A minute later, we heard the policemen's walkie-talkies crackling as they wheeled out a white-blonde girl strapped to a stretcher. She lay very still, staring blankly into nothing as if in a state of shock. She had on the same yellow top that A forced Mona to wear all those weeks in the Dollhouse. But there was something very familiar about her angular face, light blue eyes, and full, pretty lips.
The police told us to stand back, saying that the girl, Sara Harvey, had been found and needed medical attention immediately. Toby and I crossed our arms beside Emily, Aria, Ezra, and Hanna and Caleb as we watched the paramedics load Sara into the back of the Rosewood ambulance van.
I sorted through the jumble of chaotic information that were churning in my head. Sara Harvey was the girl who went missing around the same time Alison had when she'd been presumed to be dead. And then there were Sara's friends, Claire and Tina. Several months after we'd discovered that Ali was in fact alive, Hanna and Emily searched for girls who looked similar to Alison to find the real body and found Claire and Tina. Sara was living in Courtland when she disappeared, which was 414 miles from where Alison had been when her attacker hit her in the back of the head with a rock.
I tried to think of a logical explanation that could tell me what A would want with Sara–why A would have been holding her captive all this time.
Emily shook her head in disbelief. "I met Sara's friends, remember?" She looked at everyone with anxious eyes. "She lived in Courtland. She went missing around the same time Ali did."
Toby and I glanced towards the ambulance as they drove Sara safely away. Detective Barry, the Rosewood officer who had helped Toby and Tanner find us, was questioning Alison nearby. He jotted down a few lines in his notepad as Ali spoke.
"Has she been down there the whole time?" Hanna asked.
A long, tense silence filled the air as we looked at one another nervously. My skin prickled with fear. Oh God. If Sara had been held captive the whole time, that meant my friends and I weren't the only ones A was after.
Mona sat on the edge of one of the ambulance vans, wrapped in a wool blanket. The paramedics spoke to her, asking questions about her faked death. One of the tan-coated medics shone a small light into her eyes, looking for any sign of trauma. Then Emily turned away, walking over to Alison, who was still occupied by the police.
As soon as Emily's back was turned, Toby moved to my side. "C'mon, let me take you to the hospital." He put his hand on my arm soothingly. "The doctors will want to check you for some procedure tests."
When I let out a sigh, Toby reached down to squeeze my hand. I looked up at him gratefully, then stood up on my toes to softly kiss his lips.
Two EMTs escorted me into the back of the ambulance and offered me a wool blanket, but Toby refused it, wrapping his thick Rosewood PD jacket around my shoulders instead. He had insisted on staying with me inside the van on the ride over to the hospital and the paramedics reluctantly agreed. Naturally, the police separated me from Hanna, Aria, Emily, and Mona and had us driven in separate vehicles.
Suddenly, my body grew very cold and the world around me spun, seeming to wobble and blur in front of my eyes. I slumped down on the seat inside the ambulance and I let the sobs emanate from my chest. I heard someone speaking to me, but I couldn't understand her. "She's going through shock," I finally heard. "Try to keep her calm." My field of vision was so narrow that I couldn't tell who it was–only that it wasn't Toby. The woman shut the back doors and went around to the front of the van before starting it.
Then Toby pulled me onto his lap and tucked my head underneath his chin protectively as the ambulance rolled down the road. I felt my body begin to shake hard.
"Shh, Spencer," Toby soothed as he rubbed my shoulders. "It's alright, you're safe."
But the image behind my eyes refused to leave. I could still see the wires of the switchboard cutting into my wrists until the screaming alarms pierced my skull.
I squeezed my eyes shut and sobbed into his shirt.
"I know," he whispered.
I buried my face against his muscular chest, and he draped his jacket closer around me. "It's okay, you're safe now. You're with me."
I pressed myself closer to Toby and he tightened his arms around me, forming a cage of protection around me. He pressed his forehead against mine, his thumb tracing across my cheek.
As I stared at his beautiful face, it suddenly struck me that Toby was really here, holding me in his arms, and I started sobbing again. It was such a stupid reaction. I was alive–I should have been happy. But instead all I could feel was the trembling terror that I'd almost died, killing every chance of being with Toby ever again.
"What's wrong?" he asked, rubbing my back.
"Oh, Toby," I cried. Fresh tears filled my eyes. "I thought I'd never see you again." My voice broke.
Toby pressed his forehead against mine again and with his free hand, took my smaller one in it, rubbing small, comforting circles across the skin. "You could never lose me."
He brushed his lips all over my face, peppering me with kisses. "Oh, Spencer," he breathed. "I thought I'd lost you. I've never been happier to have you back in my arms than right now."
I closed my eyes at Toby's sweet breath blew in my face and sighed. He held me tighter. Toby couldn't seem to keep his eyes away from my face. I stared back at him, his blue eyes soft.
His fingertips traced the shape of my bottom lip. "You look so beautiful."
"And you're a terrible liar," I whispered back, but I couldn't hide the smile that crossed my features.
He shook his head, gazing at me gently. "No, you are." Then he met my lips, moving them deeply against mine.
I curled myself into a ball against his chest and he hugged me to him. We stayed like that for the entire drive over. I didn't want to be apart from him ever again, not for one minute. Our future was intact, and our happily ever after had come back to life. I wanted to be with Toby forever.
My happy fairytale was back. The prince had returned, the dark spell broken.
A million unresolved questions swarmed in my mind, but only one important one stuck: who was Charles DiLaurentis?
For now, I held my tongue. I didn't want to ruin the moment, here with Toby. I didn't want to think about the person who was after me right now–about whether I was still in danger. I was so much happier in the comfort and safety of his arms.
I lay quietly in his embrace, memorizing his face. He stared back at mine as if he was doing the same. Every now and then, Toby would lean down and kiss me–his soft lips brushing against my hair, my forehead, my ear.
It felt just like heaven.
After a while my body grew exhausted with sleep. So when Toby's arms tightened around me, I panicked into his chest. I didn't want to miss a second of the precious time I had with him. Who knew how much longer we had before the nurses at the hospital tore us away? I fought against the weariness in my limbs and my heavy lids.
Then Toby pressed his lips to the hollow under my ear. "Tu es mon vrai amour."
I was home.
