Here's another long chapter for you guys! Thank you as always to everyone who left reviews, your feedback makes my day. I have to say I'm a bit confused by the review claiming that this is the same as 7x20, though. Aside from a few small similarities in terms of where the characters ended up after 7x19, it's really very different. But please continue to drop me reviews and let me know what you think! I need the motivation now more than ever to continue uploading amongst everything for school, and I'm hoping to have the next chapter up sometime this weekend.

Chapter 10

"We turned the whole place upside down. Nothing," I complain to Hanna as I slip out of the Brew, holding the door open behind me for my sister to follow.

It's been three days since we all decided on a plan, and opportunity finally struck today. Hanna dropped Mona off to hang out until the end of my shift, and Ezra and Aria happened to leave the loft just as the lunch rush was ending. Once the last customer walked out, we flipped the sign on the door to "closed" and began searching, as quickly as we could before Ezra returned.

"Crap," Hanna mutters. "I got nothing from Jenna, either."

"Wait, you talked to her already?"

"I cornered her at Lucky Leons yesterday. But she wouldn't talk. I just got the same vague mumbo-jumbo that you did from her."

"What about Spencer?" I ask as I climb into my car. "Has she seen Toby yet?"

"She's talked to him a couple times," Hanna answers, sighing. "But even after three months building houses in Africa, he's still pretty torn up. She said she doesn't want to bombard him with everything all at once."

I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, frustrated. A few days ago we were so determined, so confident that answers were just around the corner. And yet here we are with nothing more. "I get that. But we really could use his help as soon as possible."

"I know," Hanna replies. "But you know with them it's…complicated."

"Yeah. Well, I'm going to…" I trail off, then amend quickly, "I'll talk to you later."

I hang up and turn to my sister, who raises her eyebrows. "What aren't you telling Hanna? Or me, for that matter?"

I toss my phone into the backseat and pull the car out onto the street. "I was going to tell you, if you'd given me a minute. Later tonight I'm going to sneak into the high school and try to get into Alison's classroom. Do a little snooping."

Mona frowns, but looks unsurprised. "You're still suspicious of her?"

"I can't help but be," I admit. "I know Spencer and Hanna think she's just a victim of Ezra's twisted morals, but…I don't know. Something doesn't add up. And she still hasn't told anyone that she lost the baby."

"You don't have to convince me," she says, examining her nails as I turn onto our street. "I don't trust that girl as far as I can throw her. But I also don't think she'd be stupid enough to keep anything important in her classroom."

I sigh as I pull the car into the apartment complex's parking lot. "I don't either," I admit. "But it's going to be a hell of a lot easier than breaking into her house. And I have to start somewhere."

"I wouldn't mind doing a little snooping of my own," Mona comments lightly as we get out of the car. "I'll come with you."

"No," I snap immediately, my heart speeding up at just the thought. "You need to stay as uninvolved as possible. One more misstep could get you sent in for another evaluation, and getting caught doing something illegal? You've been sent to an institution instead of jail three times now. Next time you might not get off so easy."

"Melodramatic much?" Mona says, rolling her eyes, and I brace myself for a fight. "But fine. Two people sneaking into the school might be too conspicuous anyway."

I turn to stare at her as we enter the apartment, shocked. "Wow," I blurt out, unable to stop myself. "You're seriously okay with sitting around here while I go investigate?"

"Do what you have to do," my sister says, waving a hand dismissively. "I have some of my own research to take care of."

I have no idea what that means, and I feel an immediate pit grow in my stomach. But Mona slips into her room and shuts the door before I can even figure out what to ask, and I shake my head and let it go. Let my sister sit with her computer and do whatever "research" she wants. It can't hurt.

…

Several hours later, I watch Principal Hackett drive out of the now-abandoned high school parking lot, and slip around the side of the school silently. This isn't the first time I've broken into this building, but I never in a million years thought I'd be doing it again.

Even so, it takes me moments to pick the lock on the back door, the small, almost hidden one that leads to the maintenance office, and five minutes later I'm standing in the darkened hallway right outside of Alison's classroom.

I shoot a furtive glance around, feeling jittery. Even though the building is quiet aside from the gentle buzz of the central air, I'm paranoid that at any moment a teacher or janitor is going to burst around the corner and demand to know what I'm doing here.

It's only now, as I bend down and use a bobby pin to pick this second lock, that I realize what a risk I'm taking by being here. I left my phone at home so A.D. can't track it, but that doesn't mean I can't get caught by anyone else. And if I get in any kind of legal trouble, my conservatorship over Mona could be terminated.

I shiver. Is this really worth it? Following an instinct that probably means nothing? It's not like I'm actually going to find anything in here, anyway.

But then the lock clicks and the door inches open, and I walk inside with a sharp inhale. I've come this far. I'm not turning back now.

I shut the door behind me and pull down the shade to cover the window. Then I flip the overhead light on and gaze around. Alison's classroom. Ezra's old classroom, I realize with a jolt, and it looks nearly identical, except that the desks are set up in a half-circle instead of rows.

There's really only one logical place to search: Her desk. The top drawer slides open easily, and I breathe a sigh of relief that I don't have to wrangle with any more locks.

Unfortunately, it quickly becomes apparent that there's nothing of interest in here, either. Pens and pencils, jumbled papers, a few bent paperclips – a typical teacher's desk. I should have known better than to expect anything more, but I still let out a sigh as I push it closed.

The middle side drawer contains nothing but folders filled with old test versions and answer keys. I smirk to myself, remembering the months that Macy spent in high school stealing test answers in order to pass her classes. If every teacher back then kept their keys as insecurely held as Ali does, she must not have had a very difficult time getting ahold of them.

But they're not going to do me very much good. I lower myself into the swivel chair and bend down to access the bottom drawer. It mostly appears to be junk – confiscated items from students, most likely – but there are a few photographs buried at the bottom, which I scoop out.

One is a picture of Alison and Charlotte, clearly taken when Charlotte was in the later stages of her time at Welby. The second is a snapshot of Ali and Archer under a twinkling archway in Aria's backyard – their impromptu wedding.

I roll my eyes in disgust. Obviously Alison hasn't cleaned out her desk in a while, considering what we know now about both her sister/cousin and crazy husband.

But the third photograph draws my attention before I can think too hard about this. A young blonde girl stands back to back with a black-haired, dark-skinned girl of the same age, their arms brushing against each other and sweet grins on both of their faces.

It's cute, and a smile crosses my face before I focus in on the girl on the right and realize that I recognize that face.

Shana.

I hold the picture up close, staring at it in disbelief. Why would Ali have a picture of her and the childhood friend who not only fell in love with one of her worst enemies, but proceeded to try and kill her? I let out a little laugh, shaking my head. The pictures of Charlotte and Rollins seem bizarrely recent in comparison.

I stand shakily, still staring down at the two little girls. Something about this feels off. I wrack my brain, trying to figure out if what I remember about Shana is inaccurate, if she really didn't turn against Alison after all. Am I forgetting how things went down in New York, all those years ago when Ali first agreed to meet up with the girls? I may not have been there myself, but I got all of my info from my sister, who, I'm fairly sure, is a reliable source.

A creak sounds from out in the hallway, followed by a door shutting, and the pictures flutter from my hands. Someone's here. Holding my breath, I quietly set the photographs back in the drawer and shut it. Then I tiptoe toward the door to turn off the light. If I wait and don't make any noise, maybe whoever's here will head in a different direction and I can slip out unnoticed.

I'm reaching for the light switch when the door swings open.

I gasp and leap back to avoid getting smacked in the face, and when I look up, Jenna is in front of me, her cane standing straight up in front of her.

"Oh my God," I squeak out in surprise, then clap a hand over my mouth. Crap. I could have just not said a word and slipped by her without her ever knowing it was me.

I'm hoping my voice was too high-pitched for her to identify, but she wrinkles her brow and smiles. "Hello, Viola. I thought I heard someone."

Damn her over-sensitive ears. "Jenna. Why are you here so late?"

"My class is doing a blindness simulator tomorrow," she replies calmly. "I was getting the materials ready." She takes a few steps into the room. "Now it's my turn. What are you doing here? This is Alison's classroom, isn't it?"

I consider lying, but remember just in time that each room number in the hallway is written in Braille as well. She could easily figure out the truth. "Um, yeah," I stammer, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. "I was just…"

"Looking through her desk?" Jenna cuts me off, running a hand through her hair. Her posture straightens. "I thought I told you to stay out of this."

"It's too late for that," I snap, walking back over to the desk and grabbing the photograph of Ali and Shana out of the bottom drawer. "I've been involved for weeks, and I'm not backing down until you tell me what you know."

Jenna raises her chin stubbornly. "Who's to say I know anything more than what I've already told you?"

I fold my arms and roll my eyes, even though she can't see me. "That N.A.T. Club video doesn't explain how you got involved to begin with. Or why you think it has anything to do with A.D."

"All I have are suspicions. The same as you."

"That recording from eight years ago shouldn't have made you suspicious," I go on, stepping closer to her. "But this photograph that I found in the desk would have. It's a picture of Ali as a little girl, with – "

"Shana," Jenna interrupts coolly. "I know. You're not the first person to come across that photo, Viola."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, because obviously she can't be referring to herself.

She hesitates, clearly battling with indecision, but finally makes her way over to one of the students' desks and carefully takes a seat. I perch on the edge of Alison's desk and wait.

"About a month ago I came in to grade some papers on a Saturday and came across someone doing just what you were – looking through Alison's desk. Addison Derringer."

She says the name with such conviction that it seems like it is supposed to mean something to me. But I'm drawing a blank. "Um…should I know who that is?"

"She's a student. Alison two-point-oh."

"Oh, God." Even the image makes me sick to my stomach. "So what, is Ali, like, her mentor or something?"

Jenna crosses her legs, leaning back and setting her cane on the desk like she's settling in to tell a story. "More like her public enemy number one. According to the faculty, those two have been butting heads since long before I've been here to witness it."

I can't hold back a smirk. The idea of Alison at war with some doppelganger of her high school self is almost sitcom-worthy. "So what? She was looking for something to blackmail her with?"

"That's what I assumed," Jenna confirms. "And when I told her to hand over what she found and asked her what it was, she described the same picture." She pauses and takes in a breath. Her lip is wobbling. "Shana was in love with me. She loved me so much that she tried to kill Alison for me. So I just couldn't understand…"

"Why Ali would keep a photo like that in her desk," I finish darkly. "Yeah, I had the same thought." I eye Jenna suspiciously, my gaze narrowed. There's a strange queasy feeling in my stomach. I've been wary of the blind girl since I found out that she trapped Ali and the other girls and tried to kill them a few months ago. It doesn't necessarily look like she has any kind of weapons on her now, but I inch a little closer to the door, just in case this conversation takes a bad turn.

"It didn't feel right," Jenna continues. "And I couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with the person who drove off with me in the back of that van. So I did some digging back into the only source I had – those videos."

I hop off of the desk and lean against it, frowning. I guess my brain must be more similar to hers than I would have thought. The hair on my arms rises at the very idea. "But wait. Why did you have a copy of the old N.A.T. videos to begin with?"

A long silence follows. Jenna's mouth twists, and the tension in the room thickens. I glance toward the door, wondering if I should move to block it, but immediately feel ridiculous. It's not as if she could dash past me and get away.

"Garrett gave me a copy," she finally admits tersely. "Years ago, back when Mona was A and was getting ahold of them somehow. He was worried that something was going to happen to him – "

"He was a grown man taking videos of little girls," I interject with a scoff, unable to stop myself.

"Legally or at the hands of your sister," Jenna snaps, and I press my lips together, going silent. "So he gave me a copy for safe-keeping. I only got through about half of them before my sight declined again. But when Addison told me about that picture, it made me suspicious enough to at least listen to the rest. And I'm sure you can guess which one piqued my interest."

"The pregnancy," I mutter. "And Wren."

Jenna nods slowly. "The little inconsistencies surrounding Ali just seem to keep building up, don't they?"

I stare at her, holding my breath. This whole situation just seems to get more and more complicated by the minute, and I have no idea who to believe. Everything Jenna's saying is exactly what I've been thinking for weeks now. But on the other hand, she's given me no reason to believe her – ever. My gaze shifts to the window. Half of me is expecting A.D. to burst in at any minute and aim a knife at my throat.

My voice is shaking when I finally manage to ask, "So then what? Why did you drag my sister into this?"

"I already told you that part," Jenna says, clearly exasperated. "The reason Mona was in Welby was because she got addicted to the game she started. I knew that she wouldn't be able to resist looking into something like this."

So Jenna was happy to let my sister do the dirty work just so she wouldn't get in any trouble? Typical. I dig my nails into my palms, forcing down boiling rage. I always thought Ali was the most self-interested person I know, but Jenna has to have her beat. Sacrificing someone's mental health just to avoid getting herself all wrapped up in the answers that she wanted in the first place.

I take in a breath and hold it. Be calm, I order myself. Just for a few more minutes. "Well, now Mona's not the only person who's involved," I murmur. "A.D. has slithered back out of the woodwork."

"I have nothing to do with that person, and I have no idea why they're back in Rosewood," Jenna insists, standing carefully. "You asked for my story, and I gave it to you." She moves toward me, tapping her walking stick in front of her until she's only a few feet away. "This is the last time I'm going to talk about this. I've told you everything I know, and I'm not going to let you drag me back into this. The next time I'm abducted I might not be so lucky."

I open my mouth, ready to remind her that she wasn't exactly innocent that night, either, but stop myself, staying quiet as I watch her walk out of the room.

I call Spencer and leave a voicemail as I sneak back out of the school and head for my car. "Hey, call me back as soon as you get this. I was just in the school, and I found something out that I think might be important. I need to talk to you and Hanna, and maybe Aria, too. This isn't about Ezra, it's about, um – "

The machine cuts me off and I sigh, jamming my phone into my pocket. My stomach is swirling with nerves as I consider the girls' reactions to my discovery and conversation with Jenna. It's not like that picture proves anything, but it definitely puts Alison in a new perspective. And now that she's all chummy with her four old friends, I can't be sure how they're going to respond to it.

"Hey," I call once I throw open the door to my apartment. "Did you go out? Because I know I locked the door behind me, and…"

I trail off, glancing around the empty living room and kitchen. A feeling of unease that I can't explain immediately sweeps over me, sending a chill down my spine as I'm reminded disturbingly of the day I returned to find this place ransacked. But unlike that terrible afternoon, everything is in its place, as neat as when I left an hour ago.

"Mona?" I call, glancing at the open bathroom door and then rushing into her bedroom. It's empty as well, and my vision darkens with panic. I look frantically toward the window, desperate to cling to the idea that for some reason she decided to use the fire escape as a backdoor exit again, but it's shut and locked.

I pull out my phone and dial, my hands shaking with nerves. What if that panic attack the other day really wasn't a one-time thing? What if she's been heading for another breakdown, hiding most of the signs from me?

My stomach turns and I swallow hard, just about to dig out her pills and count them, when two phones begin to ring simultaneously. One is my own, right in my ear, and the other is my sister's, sitting on the table beside the bed.

I end the call and walk over to it. My vision is still fuzzy. Everything feels like it's moving in slow-motion, like I'm underwater or trying to run from a monster in a dream.

I scoop up Mona's phone and type in her passcode, which the doctors at Welby required she give me. There are barely any apps downloaded, and the only recent calls are from Hanna and me.

Then I open her texts, feeling guilty for snooping even though I know deep down that something is very wrong, and freeze, my mind blank as I scroll through the anonymous messages sprinkled among ones from our mother, Hanna, and myself.

You ended her. Now I end you.

There are no bars on the windows to keep your safe anymore. Sleep tight.

I hope you're biding your time, bitch. This is all going to be over soon.

My eyes flit across the words, message after message, each signed by A.D., beginning with the one about getting away with murder, the one my sister showed me soon after she was released from the hospital.

This has been going on for weeks now. And she kept all of it from me.

A strange combination of anger and sympathy swells up simultaneously in my chest, but all of that confusion is almost instantly replaced by sheer terror.

My sister is gone. And these messages make it obvious that it's not of her own free will.