Good evening friends and family! I was going to update earlier this morning but I don't know what happened. I mean, I totally didn't watch LOST on Netflix and read Buzzfeed articles before work. That's not how you adult. :P Anyway, thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, but I do need to address a few things. I thought I'd made it clear from chapter one that this was going to be about -A, but apparently that wasn't inherent. So therefore, I apologize for misleading you and if you're not a fan of the whole "-A reveal/take-down/blah, blah, blah, that's totally fine. If you don't like it, cool. Lucky for you, you've got dozens of pages of stories on this site and they're all probably better than mine, anyway.
I'm going to repeat it again- it's okay if you're not a fan. Trust me, you're not hurting my feelings. If you're not a fan of the -A storyline, you're not going to like this chapter and you're REALLY not going to like the next one. So yeah. Just putting it out there. I've warned you now, okay? So it's no longer my fault LOL. Now I want to address something the writing world likes to call constructive criticism. It's good! It's beneficial to me and you! What is it, you ask? Well, it's you, saying, "Hey! I think the conversation between Spencer and Hanna was a little unbelievable when Hanna said xyz. Here's something you can do to maybe make it a little better." And then I take that suggestion and try and work it into my story to grow as a writer. See? Yeah. So there's a difference between constructive criticism and being unnecessarily harsh. Constructive criticism is not saying, "Hey your story sucks" or "This is shitty." Believe me, I say that enough to myself, I don't need it from you. :)
Alright, are we done? That's always so annoying, I'm sorry. Most of you are still super wonderful and my precious angels who I love so, so much. That's why I hate when I have to be uncool LOL. Please enjoy or please don't. Actually, no, please do whatever the heck you want. I don't own you. You're all wonderful and if you choose to review, let's keep it clean, okay? Positive or negative doesn't matter, but I'm a real person with feelings. Okay. Cool. Yeah. I love you guys. You're my sweet little cupcakes. See you soon! :D
Twelve
She's had dreams of what it would be like, coming home after such a long time away. In between the torturous nightmares of the dollhouse and taunting episodes where she never sees Toby again, she'd dream about a day where Kate Wilson fades away and Spencer Hastings is all that's left behind. In one, she comes home to find the house moderately empty and when she enters, her parents barely even give her a second glance, as though she's never left. They tell her to wash up for dinner and go get Melissa; they're having pot roast. In another, she arrives on the front step of her childhood home and before she can knock, her mother's there, opening the door and embracing her youngest child in a way that she never has before. Her father kisses her crown and welcomes her to the place of all her memories and they make plans to volley on the tennis court out back. There's a cake baking in the oven and Melissa's hanging a banner above the fireplace; Welcome home, Spencer!
In reality, none of these things happen. In reality, no one's home, and the only thing greeting her is a bright red 'For Sale' sign.
She should've seen this coming. Toby's told her all about her parents' divorce and their desperation to move on as though they'd never met the other. With both children out of the house, the beloved Hastings' manor is the only thing left between them. She remembers the first conversation she'd had with Toby in her office back in Maine, how he'd mentioned her mother had some big announcement, and she realizes now that Toby had never told her what that was. Putting that together with the fact that all of the belongings in her bedroom were now in boxes, Spencer understands that this must've been what she wanted him to know and he mustn't have had the heart to tell her. Still, it stings. This is the house she'd grown up in, the one she had ninety percent of her memories in, and the one that shielded her from all the pressures of everyday life for so many years. And now, it was to belong to someone else.
Spencer can't imagine someone else living in her home. Someone else is going to relax under the soothing steam in the shower- a place where she almost lost her life. Someone else is going to be sleeping comfortably in her bedroom- the one with full view of the house next door, so close you can see right into Alison's old bedroom. Someone else is going to curl up in front of her fireplace and sit down to meals in her dining room and swim laps and throw parties in her pool. She wonders if the future homeowners know all the secrets this house holds or that it was once the burial site of their next-door neighbor or that the house right beside theirs is just as cursed, just as broken. She contemplates everything that had happened here- she'd taken her first steps across the smooth hardwood floor of her kitchen, she'd fallen in love with Toby when they were sitting on her couch and had barely known each other, she fell off her bike in her driveway when she was six, landed face first, and busted her two front teeth, she'd lost her virginity at the most perfect moment and to the most perfect guy… The list goes on and on. It's going to be someone else's list, now.
The girls come up behind her and Emily laments, "I'm sorry, Spence."
"For what? My house?" She implores and shakes her head hurriedly. "No, it's fine. I mean, it makes sense; what does my Mom need this big old house for anyway? Now that it's just her?"
"Still," Aria shrugs. "It's got to suck."
Spencer can't think of another response; the front door to her house opens and a woman in a pantsuit exits, approaching them. "Ah, come for the open house, have you?"
"Oh, uh…" Emily stammers. "No, we were just-"
"Yes, ma'am," Spencer nods, extending a hand. "Kate Wilson, pleasure. I realize we're a bit early, but I thought I could maybe get the first look."
"Miss Wilson, I'm Chelsea Robinson," The realtor shakes her hand and smiles a bit too wide. "You're more than welcome to come on in! May I ask your price range?"
"I'm new to the area," Spencer lies, following the woman into the house, the girls approaching quickly behind her. "Is the asking price standard for this neighborhood?"
"Yes, and this house especially," Chelsea tells her as they step inside and Spencer, for a moment, is speechless. This is her house and yet nothing is recognizable. "There's an in-ground pool, four bedrooms and a master with an in-suite bathroom, a stacked oven, two stone fireplaces and a guest house. It is the epitome of luxury if you're willing to pay for it."
"Hmm," Spencer nods, glancing over the details. "Well, the guesthouse would be a wonderful addition. My fiancé's family is tough, to say the least, to deal with. Getting a reprieve when they visit would be nice."
"Oh, I understand," Chelsea nods. "The owner's never used it, so it would be practically brand new."
Spencer smiles. "Well, I'm not sure I like the countertops. Would it be extra if I asked for a granite addition?"
"I'm sure we could work something out!"
"Granite's classier and goes better with the cabinets, don't you think girls?" Spencer asks, turning towards her friends, and then telling the realtor, "My bridesmaids. I needed their opinion too, of course."
"Oh, of course!" Chelsea exclaims. "Well, let me talk it over with the owner and I'll get back to you!"
"If she goes for it, I would like to put an offer in," Spencer says and Chelsea nods rapidly, racing into the next room with her phone already pressed to her ear.
"Spencer, what the hell are you doing?" Hanna asks. "Guesthouses? Granite countertops? We need to be looking for the clue!"
"How else was I supposed to distract her?" Spencer implores. "The countertops are already granite; I remember when they put them in. They cost a fortune."
"Okay, well she's likely not going to be on the phone for very long," Emily says. "Spread out; the clue's got to be somewhere."
And it is; sticking out from behind a log in Spencer's fireplace is a small message that reads, Tug of war. Hanna's already grumbling obscenities. "I swear to God…"
"That's the game he wants to play," Aria concludes. "Well, that makes sense."
"Come on," Emily urges. "Let's get out of here before Miss Granite Countertops comes back."
They all head for Spencer's back door, but the girl in question is staring longingly at the staircase. What she wouldn't give to see her bedroom right about now. Aria places a hand on her upper arm and grounds her in reality. "Spence, not now, okay? We've got to get out of here."
With more emotion than she'd care to admit, Spencer says, "Yeah, you're right. Let's go."
They're walking with a purpose down the street as Emily recites the clues they've gotten so far. "Okay, you want her, I'm thinking, let's play a game, come find me and now tug of war. We're almost there. We can do this; we're so close."
"Oh, so now you're all gung-ho and ready to find this bitch?" Hanna rolls her eyes. "We haven't made any progress. We're exactly where we were at the start of this thing; we've got nothing. Just a random smattering of broken phrases that make no sense!"
"We haven't gotten all of them yet, Hanna," Spencer stops her. "It'll make sense in the end. I'm sure."
"Oh you're sure? You're sure?" Hanna complains. "What makes you so sure?"
And before she can answer, their phones chime with their next set of directions. Do your faces hurt? Because they're killing me. Wipe those smiles off, ladies. What have I always told you? – A
"'Dead girls can't smile. Stop looking'," Aria remembers and Hanna scoffs.
"Right, something he's always told us? Or something he's always sent us?" Hanna replies. "Sending Emily a necklace of teeth and playing post office between mine?"
"He's a got a thing for disconnected body parts," Spencer comments. "The dentist. Let's go."
It's pushing four o'clock and the dentist's office is still open with hygienists racing around the waiting room and phones ringing off the hook. Hanna's right; the bathroom key is shaped like a cuspid and the moment they spot it is the moment they find the next clue. Unfortunately, they have no way of getting it and so, they hatch a scheme. Aria distracts the one secretary by telling her there's a car being towed outside and with pure dumb luck, the car she describes is the exact same one the secretary drives. Emily explains that she has a terrible toothache and she needs to see a dentist immediately and when no walk-ins are available, she asks for the closest appointment and the remaining secretary is distracted by the system, which then crashes. With these diversions, Spencer and Hanna are able to sneak the key out of its holder and snatch the message accompanying it. They wait until they're a safe distance away to read it and it only further complicates their situation.
I want her too.
"I'm not even going to say it this time," Hanna frowns. "You all know how I feel."
"We almost got recognized this time," Spencer says. "Who thought bringing Hanna back to the place she used to work was a good idea?"
"Yeah, Mrs. Ackard was like, '… Hanna?' and I had to pretend I didn't speak English," The blonde complains. "I mean, I know it's been five and a half years, but I used to date her son. She definitely knew it was me."
"But we're close, right?" Emily asks. "We've got to be nearing the end."
"Yeah, honestly," Aria agrees. "How many clues can he possibly have?"
"Looks like we aren't done yet," Spencer says as her phone buzzes. "Dirt and shovels and blood, oh my!"
"Four mini-Alis lost without their leader," Emily concludes. "Follow in her footsteps and you'll be sure to meet her."
"'Follow me, end up like me'?" Hanna suggests and Spencer nods.
"That's got to be it," She agrees. "That means we have to get to Brookhaven."
"Great. Another road trip," Aria sighs. "Okay, who's hitchhiking this time?"
It turns out, the Brookhaven doll hospital is closed; no surprise there. It was closed when they found the creepy doll predicting their deaths years ago, too. The door is left unlocked as though someone's expected them to arrive and they creep down the rickety staircase and into the back of the room, passing by doll parts and stuffing and little plastic limbs. In the cabinet where they once found a miniature creation of Alison's death scene, there's a small slip of paper reading, Time's running out and you're losing. They have a smattering, now, of seven disjointed clues and there's no doll, this time, saying they're going to end up like Alison if they continue forward. It must be inherent.
"Guys," Emily whines uncomfortably. "Can we get out of here?"
"This place is giving me the creeps," Aria shivers. "I can't believe I ever made dolls the subject of my photos. Can I take that back?"
Spencer finds a corner of empty table space, pulls out all of their slips of paper and begins to arrange them in order. Hanna asks, "Spencer, what are you doing?"
"'You want her? I want her too'," Spencer says. "'Let's play a game. I'm thinking tug of war. Come find me. Time's running out and you're losing.' They're in order, now. We just have to find him."
"Only you would have realized that," Hanna comments. "As if it's that easy."
"I knew you'd come back."
The four girls' heads snap in the direction of the staircase and there's a young boy, probably around twelve or thirteen, staring at them from the staircase. They remain silent, but he says, "They tried to send you away but you can't stay hidden forever."
It's Aria who recognizes him first. "Seth?"
The boy nods and says, "The man and the woman who want to hurt Alison… They're back. They're going to hurt her tonight."
"Do you know who they are?" Emily asks cautiously. "Or where they are?"
"No," He shakes his head and points to Spencer and Hanna. "But they do."
Hanna wonders, "I know where they are?"
"You know who," Seth tells her. "You both do."
"The man and the woman," Spencer starts. "You said they had dark hair?"
"Yes, like yours," Seth replies. "You have to look behind the mask. They're not who you think they are."
A noise clatters from upstairs and he glances in that direction before saying, "I'm lucky I don't have any brothers and sisters. They're too much trouble."
He then looks directly at Spencer and says, "I'm sorry."
And then he bounds up the stairs and he's gone. Aria shakes her head. "Okay, so he still hasn't seen the sun. Moving on."
"Brothers and sisters are a curse, the dark-haired man and woman are back," Hanna lists. "What is he getting at?"
"Moving on," Aria repeats. "He lives among doll parts and doesn't leave this building. He's not a reliable source of information."
"I don't know," Emily disagrees. "He knows things. Do you think he just made it up?"
"What choice does he have?" Aria wonders. "What else does he have to do with his life?"
"Can we please get out of here?" Hanna begs. "This place isn't any less terrifying than it was the first time."
As they're walking with a purpose through Brookhaven, one member of the group is noticeably silent. Aria pokes her friend's side, asking, "Spence? You haven't said a word. What's wrong?"
"I don't know," She shakes her head. "The things that kid said… They rubbed me the wrong way."
"Oh my god, you can't go by what he says," Aria disagrees. "He's trying to freak us out."
"Okay, well, it's working," Hanna agrees. "I'm sorry; I'm with Spencer on this one. Charles' identity should apparently be more obvious to me and Spencer? Why? Who did we both come into contact with that would make that true?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out, Han," Spencer tells her. "I mean, before prom, you and I were sleuthing so much and suspecting so many people… It could be anyone."
And before they can give it any more thought, their final set of instructions comes to them via text. Emily reads, "You might think you're done, but we've only just begun."
Aria's next. "I just can't wait until you find clue eight."
"In here, we all lived together," Hanna says. "Through screams and games and stormy weather."
"We danced, we dined, then out of the blue," Spencer finishes. "You escaped and ruined this for me, too."
"Oh my god, no," Aria exclaims. "I am not going back there."
"It's been years," Emily says. "And I still have nightmares about the dollhouse. I can't- I won't go back there."
"Charles is such a bitch," Hanna shakes her head. "I swear, when I see him, I'm going to throttle him. He won't even get the chance to explain. I'm just going to kill him on sight."
"Guys, I don't want to go back there either," Spencer says. "I mean, come on, that's the last thing that I want to do. But is he giving us a choice?"
Hanna sighs. "We never have a choice."
"Okay, but do we even know where this place is?" Aria asks. "I mean, we were disoriented and sleep-deprived and starved when we stumbled out of there."
"And in an armored van and drugged when we went in there," Emily throws up her hands in frustration. "We'll never find it again."
"Actually, it's a bunker in a field just outside of Rosewood," Spencer says. "The field's about a hundred and twenty three steps from the highway and then you turn left, go past the weeping willow, and the bunker should be about sixty-seven steps west of there."
The others stare at her before Aria says, "Okay, you're still a freak. I still love you. Let's go."
Roughly an hour later, they arrive at the supposed dollhouse and it's dilapidated and falling apart much to their relief. It still brings back horrifying, unrelenting flashbacks that make Spencer want to crawl under the covers and hide and hide. There's the electric fence they almost perished in and the field where they almost froze to death. She remembers waking up completely naked on a metal slab and being forced to choose which one of her friends was tortured next; choose one or all will suffer. She remembers the room that was not her own, the rocking chair that was not the one Toby had crafted for her, and the artificial sunlight and dark, empty nights. Waking up on the floor, covered in blood, and please follow the lighted pathway. Mystery date. Prom. Charles breathing down her neck. Something feeling off and yet so uncannily familiar about him. She remembers this place; she remembers the horrors. She wishes she could forget.
Glancing at her friends, she knows they're all going through that exact same thing. There's a slip of paper attached to the ground before them with a stake. Aria snatches it and reads, "1228 Angel Drive. Holy shit, he gave us an address."
Spencer thinks aloud. "Why does that sound so familiar?"
"Okay, I'm already Googling it," Hanna says, yanking out her phone and then groaning. "Ugh, I have really shitty service out here."
"Spence, I guess you were right," Emily comments. "He does want this to be over. He wants to be found."
"I guess it was only a matter of time," Aria says. "You can't do this forever."
"And at this point, he pretty much has been."
"It's in Philly," Hanna states a moment later and then Spencer gasps.
"Oh my god," Her eyes are wide. "I know exactly where that is."
"'You want her? I want her too. Let's play a game. I'm thinking tug of war'," Emily recites, putting it all together one last time. "'Come find me. Time's running out and you're losing. 1228 Angel Drive.'"
"And Spencer, you know where that is," Aria says. "Does that mean you know who it is?"
"I don't; not really," Spencer replies. "But I know who lives there."
Simultaneously, the girls ask, "Who?"
Spencer exhales heavily before answering. "Wren."
"Cavanaugh," Lawson grumbles as their vans and squad cars race towards Rosewood. "Why didn't you bring this to me sooner?"
Toby sighs and says, "I tried, sir. You kept shutting me down."
He frowns. "Is this normal behavior? For them? To go out and seek danger rather than avoid it?"
Toby contemplates all they've done in the past and can't help an ironic smile. "Yes. Very much so."
"Well then, I'm going to need your help," He states. "You're going to have to help me figure out where they might go in order to find him."
And this, of course, completely stumps Toby, because he has no idea where Charles has been hiding out all these years, or else he would have captured him years ago. He tries to think of the past –A instances Spencer and the girls have gone through and none of the ones he knows about seem extreme enough to warrant his locale. He can't say anything for the ones he doesn't know about. Honesty and communication have always been their two biggest struggles and he knows it comes from a place of anxiety, insecurity and a desire to keep the other safe. But in a situation like this, Toby could really use all the information he could get. He goes over everything he knows, any possible significant detail, and then it hits him like a ton of bricks.
"The dollhouse," Toby blurts out in realization and both Lawson and Lydia, who's sitting beside him, turn to look at him in surprise.
"The what?" Lawson implores and Toby clarifies.
"When he kidnapped them," He begins and it still feels awful to say. "He brought them to this underground bunker and held them there for weeks. Torturing them and isolating them and… God knows what else."
He can't help himself; he gets momentarily choked up. It's been years and years and yet, he still doesn't know what happened down there. Spencer's never told him and he imagines she never will. Lydia looks sympathetic, but Lawson presses on. "Yeah, I know about the bunker. He called it the dollhouse?"
"As far as I know," Toby nods. "Charles has a thing for dolls and games. He treats humans like they're objects. If they were going to search for him, I'd bet they'd start there."
Lawson takes this in and asks, "So I assume you're knowledgeable of where this place is? Exactly?"
"Yes, sir," Toby affirms and Lawson nods.
"Alright. Lead the way."
He continues to offer directions as the van slips through the early evening. There's silence when Lydia says, "That must've been awful. I can't imagine living through that and having the courage to go on."
"They're strong," Toby comments. "They always have been. It's always amazed me. Right from the start."
"Still," She shakes her head. "What kind of human being does that to four teenage girls? Five, I guess, counting Mona and six, with Sara Harvey. That's just… It's inhumane."
"He's inhumane," Toby says bitterly. "Whoever he is, he's sick. And if he's got them now, then… I can't bear the thought of what he's doing."
Lydia regards him for a moment and he's just beginning to feel uncomfortable when she asks, "It's Spencer, isn't it?"
Toby's eyes snap to hers. "What do you mean?"
"I told you a while back that I didn't know all the details about the girls and I didn't know which one was your girlfriend," Lydia clarifies. "But it's Spencer, isn't it?"
Toby's quiet a moment before nodding and asking, "How'd you guess?"
"Earlier, when they brought her in and we all went in to tell her what was happening," Lydia says. "The way you two looked at each other… It was like no one else was in the room. It's crazy, that's all."
Interest piqued, Toby challenges, "What is?"
"That it's been five and a half years," Lydia comments wistfully. "And you're both obviously still in love."
The true nature of her words washes over him as she adds, "You're lucky, you know. Some people don't ever get that."
And he supposes he is, though parts of their past might prove otherwise. He doesn't argue. Instead, they arrive at what was once the dollhouse and it's abandoned. It's a complete ghost town. There's an inactive electric fence surrounding the outer perimeter, but they're able to step through it, guns drawn, as they enter the building. It's dark and dismal and dingy; there's a faint dripping sound from a leaky pipe, somewhere, and dust, cobwebs and spiders crawling up the walls. They push open all the doors and find nothing but abandoned board games, a broken, garbled radio, and ripped pieces of tulle, perhaps from a ball gown. In one room, there's a long metal table, like those used in a morgue, and in another, it's completely empty, save for a large puddle of dried blood. Toby doesn't want to know whom it belongs to, but he does want to get the hell out of here. He doesn't know how the girls made it three weeks in here without going insane. When they exit, he feels sick and he now has a bit of a better understanding of what happened here and that's when he spots the stake in the ground. Stuck to it is a piece of paper reading, 1228 Angel Drive.
It's an address in Philadelphia he's passed numerous times and he's not sure why it's here. Until he is; it must be where he is, where they are, and Spencer's left it behind for him, as a clue. He grins at her resourcefulness- she's thought of everything- and brings it to his leader's attention. "Agent Lawson? I think I might've found something."
Lawson turns the piece of paper over in his hands and nods, clapping Toby on the shoulder. "Good work, Cavanaugh. When this is all over, I think we could see you becoming a permanent member of this force."
"With all due respect, sir," Toby turns him down gently. "When this is all over, I'm headed for an early retirement."
Lawson's mouth draws into a tight line. Behind him, Lydia's smiling. "Right then. We're headed to the address Detective Cavanaugh's found. Guns at the ready! We know he is armed and will not go down without a fight, so neither will you!"
Toby follows suit and hopes with everything he has that they aren't too late.
1228 Angel Drive is an apartment complex named after Heaven, which is entirely ironic, because it looks like hell. It's a dark brownstone, windows framed by swinging shutters and steps old and rickety. Spencer's trying to remember if it looked this horrible the last time she was here, but that's a foggy memory in itself; it was a few days before she was committed to Radley and she was in a bad place, both mentally and physically speaking, so she really can't rely too much on her memories. They knock, but the door clicks open, and the light that welcomes them in is much too bright for this time of evening. There's no one to be found and not a sound is heard, but in the background, there's a flickering light and they find themselves gravitating towards it. There's a banner in the kitchen reading 'Welcome Home, Girls!' and it has all of their faces on it. Alison's, however, is scratched out.
"What the hell is this?" Emily breathes and the others shake their heads.
"I don't know," Hanna replies.
"It looks like he's throwing us a party," Aria comments and Spencer nods.
"Yeah, a homecoming party," She nods. "And after attending his version of prom, I don't really think I'm up for it."
On the table, there's a plate of cupcakes and a bowl of shiny red punch. A piñata is hanging from the ceiling fan in the living room and a video idles on the television screen. It's eerie. It doesn't get any less eerie as they hear footsteps on the staircase. Aria panics, "You guys, someone's coming."
A flash of red comes around the corner and, as though a blast from the past, they find themselves standing mere inches from Red Coat. If Red Coat and –A are the same person, then there's no way they were right about Charles all these years, because this figure before them is quite obviously a woman. She's tall in high-heeled boots, skinny jeans and that infamous red pea coat, tied at her waist, her hands in both pockets. She's got a plethora of curly blonde hair that falls just past her shoulder and her face is waxen and Alison's; Spencer had once thought if she never saw another Alison mask again, it would be too soon. And yet, here it is, on the face of their attacker.
Aria demands, "Who are you?"
Red Coat shakes head, nods towards the table full of goodies, and Hanna scoffs. "I'm not eating those. You're going to give us some damn answers, or so help me God-"
A hand slips out of her pocket and the girls are silent. She's wielding a gun; she'd obviously expected the backlash. Emily, in an attempt to keep the peace, tries, "Okay, okay. We'll eat first. No one has to get hurt. Calm down."
Red Coat nods and the gun slips out of sight once more. She forces them to eat cupcakes and drink the sugary punch until they're all sure they're going to vomit and then she ties a handkerchief around Hanna's eyes and hands her a baseball bat. They each take turns whacking at the piñata and when it breaks open, there isn't candy inside, but tiny little coins, black in color with scarlet letter As. Spencer's the one who breaks it open and when she hears the coins clatter to the floor, she yanks off the handkerchief and immediately recognizes it as the one Wren had offered her when she was bawling over losing Toby. But it can't be Wren; after all, this is a woman leading them to the couch, a woman pressing play, a woman sitting daintily beside them. Perhaps Wren's dead; perhaps Red Coat's killed him and has been using his former dwelling for all these years. Maybe Red Coat had been the one to fear all along.
The video on the screen follows each of the girls' families and significant others as they try to cope with their absences. They watch as a shaky camera angle shows Byron and Ella screaming at one another, each blaming the other for letting this get as far as it had. A confused Paige opens her mailbox and finds all the letters she'd sent to Emily returned to sender, always the last to know. Caleb's drinking and wincing at the taste, wiping at his eyes every so often as he packs a bag solemnly. Pam is bawling awful, guttural sobs as Wayne whispers something in her ear, his arms around her. Veronica's packing all of Spencer's things away and she glances over her shoulder, barely registering the fact that Peter's there, too, a box of his own things in his arms. Ashley is like a zombie at work and at home, wandering empty halls and unsure of what to do with herself. Ezra's left the country altogether and, distracted, he severs a finger on a table saw and spews curse words as he tries to staunch the bleeding. Toby's lying in bed, catatonic, holding onto the pocket watch with a death grip and staring at the photo of him and Spencer at his bedside, smiling in a happier time. It's a homemade video of horrors and they want, no, they need it to be over. It's too much to handle.
"You see," A garbled voice comes over a clip of doors slamming at the Montgomery house. "I'm not the only one. You made their lives miserable too."
"No, you did," Aria argues. "If you'd never done any of this, we wouldn't have had to join the Witness Protection Program and we never would have been taken away."
"That's the reason everyone's so upset," Emily explains, shaking her head. "Not because of us. Over us."
"You've ruined everything in your path," Spencer adds. "You tortured us for years and years and when that was over, when you couldn't touch us anymore, you moved on to them."
"You're sick," Hanna spits out. "You have no idea what it takes to be a good person. You're so far from that line, you can't even see it anymore. Don't try to heap guilt on us. It won't work; we're immune to your tricks, by now."
"You're inhumane," Spencer goes on. "It takes empathy to be human and you are severely lacking."
"No matter what you say," Hanna says. "I will never feel sorry for you."
"Oh please, Hanna," Red Coat finally speaks. "Tone it down. Don't be so dramatic."
The girls gasp as she reaches upwards and peels off her mask, her own grin wide and wicked. "CeCe?"
