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Chapter 52

What?

I scramble to my feet, my cheek stinging from where it had been resting against the ground. I reach up to touch my face, and my fingers come away caked with dirt.

But it's not just the ground that is made of dirt. I'm completely surrounded by it, on all sides, in the tiniest space I've ever been in. It's mostly dark, with only a bit of light coming from above. Almost like I'm in…

I tilt my head back, gazing upward.

A hole.

I'm in a hole.

The curved walls of dirt soar upward, seemingly endless. I'm so far down that I can't see anything but the dank brown ceiling what seems like a hundred feet above me. I run my hands along the dirt surrounding me, hoping desperately for a foothold or uneven patch, but it's no use. It's smooth, packed in too tightly for me to dig or climb.

I'm trapped down here.

Panic swells inside of me, so suddenly that I'm nearly knocked right down. "Oh my god," I gasp, turning in a complete circle, staring up at the edges to the hole, far, far above me. "Oh my god."

This must be my punishment, I realize, for yelling at "A" earlier…I barely remember what I said. My mind is completely foggy. Had that been earlier today, yesterday? It could have been weeks ago, for all I know.

I run my hand through my still-blond hair, brushing it out of my face. I can't believe this. I can't believe that "A" actually has a gigantic hole in this horrible place, and that they actually left me here to rot. Who knows when they're going to decide to let me out…that is, if they decide to let me out.

"Hello?" I call out, and my voice echoes against the looming dirt walls around me. For some reason, this sends another wave of panic through me. "Hello?" I yell again, feeling my heart speed up. I clear my throat, grimacing. "Um, Alison?"

When there is no response, I give up completely, suddenly not caring if "A" is watching or listening. What could possibly be worse than this? Throwing caution to the wind, I take in a deep breath and scream my sister's name – her real name – at the top of my lungs, over and over, until my voice can't take it anymore, and I realize that no one is coming to help me.

Shaking with the exhaustion of yelling, I lean my back against the dirt side of the hole and sink to the ground, resting my chin on my knees. Before this, I didn't think anything could get worse than being stuck in an underground bunker, under constant surveillance and being forced to pretend to be someone else.

I really need to stop underestimating "A."

It's a week before I'm finally able to admit it to myself…I'm not getting out of here.

Clearly, "A" has realized that kidnapping me was a mistake. I'm not submitting to their crazy tasks, or pretending to be brainwashed like Mona. And apparently turning on the camera that day in Aria's look-alike bedroom just cemented it.

"A" is going to leave me here to die. And I'm sure that they're going to make it as painful as possible. So far, I've seen the person…no. The creature in the black hoodie twice, when they've leaned over the edge of the hole, what seems like miles above me, and poured water directly onto me. At first I had no idea what was happening, until I realized it was their way of giving me something to drink.

But the last time that happened was nearly three days ago, if I've been keeping track correctly, and I don't think I am. I can barely keep my eyes open now – they keep crossing out of hunger. My throat is raw from a mixture of all of the screaming I did during the first day or so, along with barely anything to drink. And I'm too exhausted to do more than stand for a few minutes, even though it seems like all I do is sleep.

The silence is killing me. Aside from the sounds of the generator turning on and off every night, it's eerily quiet. I've wondered more than a few times over the past week, during the limited time that I'm actually having rational thoughts, where, exactly, I am. I assume I'm still in the dollhouse somewhere, judging by the color of the ceiling and the fact that there's probably not a whole lot of other places where "A" could keep a gigantic hole in the ground.

But there isn't any way to know for sure.

So I continue to wait and sleep.

After another bout of fitful sleep, if you can even call it that, my mind wakens before my eyes open. The first thing I notice is that I feel okay. Not great, or at all healthy, but better than I've felt in weeks.

The next thing I notice is that something feels different.

I shift around, rolling onto my back. I've gotten used to the feeling of lying on the cold, hard dirt, curling into a ball to try and keep warm, but I'm stretched out. Something light-weight is covering me. Something almost…soft.

My eyes fly open and I sit up before I give myself a chance to think.

The little gray Radley-like room faces me. I'm back.

"What?" I murmur in shock, swinging my legs off of the edge of the bed and standing unsteadily. Somehow, I've gained some of my strength back. And the old, dirty hospital gown I've been wearing since I arrived here, what must be almost a month ago by now, has been replaced by a brand new one.

I shudder and force the thought of "A" undressing me out of my head, my eyes sweeping across the room. Same metal door, shut tight, same little wooden chair and table, same iron bed. It's almost like I never left.

Except for one thing. Scrawled on the mirror above the dresser, in the bright red coloring of what I really hope is either lipstick or dripping paint, are the words, Maybe you'll think twice next time. –A

So throwing me in that literal hellhole really was my punishment for disobeying. I stride over to the dresser and grab a tissue from the box on top of it, furiously wiping away the words and leaving a smear of red behind. Then I glance over my shoulder, finally taking notice of the security camera, its little red light staring menacingly down at me.

"I've learned my lesson," I say clearly, because I know that's what I'm supposed to say. And from that point on, I swear to myself that I'll do what I'm told from now on, even if it kills me. As horrible as this is, it's better than being stuck down in that hole. And I will never go back there again.

As if in response to this, the door to the room swings open, just as the smooth automated female voice bursts through the invisible speakers. "Please exit your room and follow the lighted pathway."

Not this again. "Time for tea again?" I ask, looking directly at the camera and trying to keep the venom out of my voice. Forcing a smile, I walk out of the room and down the long, dark hallway, keeping my head held high as I stride into the copy of the DiLaurentis' living room.

Mona is sitting at the piano across the room, shifting through a few pages of sheet music. A mask of Alison's face – that stupid thing gives me a chill every time I see it – lays on the top of the piano, face up.

I take a deep breath and resist the urge to run across the room and hug my sister, who I have not seen or known anything about for what seems like weeks. Instead, I plaster a smile on my face and walk casually over. "Ali. Hey."

She looks up at me, and the relief is evident on her face for only a moment. "Bethany."

"What are you doing?" I ask, leaning against the piano and hoping that I'll finally get some answers. Something is going on…there's a reason I was released from that awful hole today and sent directly here. I can feel it.

"Just trying to brush up on my piano playing," Mona says, plucking at the keys a bit. "I used to play a lot when I was younger, but…"

Another Alison response. Great. I clear my throat and hesitate, trying to think of how Bethany Young would keep this conversation going. I don't have a lot to go off of. "I'm just glad to be out of my room. It's like a cell in there," I settle on, trying to keep my voice light so "A" doesn't think I'm baiting them. "So," I add after a pause, drumming my nails against the piano lid, "what's the occasion?"

She stands up and smiles, looking down at the Alison mask on the piano. "My friends are coming today."

My heart stops cold, like someone has just dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. Oh my god. It's today. They're coming today.

Has "A" already kidnapped them, I wonder, as I stare at my sister, completely dumbfounded into silence. Are they on their way here now, panicking and trying to get free? Or unconscious, the way I was?

Or are they here already?

I have no idea when I last ate, but I feel something churning in my stomach, threatening to come up. I press my hand to my it and stammer out, "Your – your friends?"

"You'll like them," Mona says without meeting my eyes, which is probably smart. "But…they don't know that we were talking before that night, so let's just keep that between us, okay?"

"Huh?" I blurt out, because I have no idea what she's talking about, and if that statement was said as Alison or as herself. I file that question away as a topic for tonight's three minutes, and say, "So, um, what am I supposed to be – "

"There's mail for you," she cuts me off, nodding toward the door. "In the game room?"

Startled, I nod and am halfway toward the door before I hear the piano music start up again. I pause but force myself not to turn around. Of course she's not coming with me. I shouldn't have even expected her to, but I still feel a shiver as I walk down the dark hallway into the child's playroom.

It's just as creepy as I remembered, with the puppets and board games and wooden blocks. Amongst all of the spooky nineties-style toys, it takes me a moment to notice the little metal mailbox secured against the wall, its red flag raised.

I walk cautiously over to it, glancing up at the camera and resisting the insane urge to wave at it. I reach inside and pull out a white envelope, with Bethany's name scrawled across it in the red blocky print that I've begun to despise.

Taking in a breath of anticipation, I open the envelope and pull out a letter.

Wait here. They'll be coming.

I swallow hard and fumble with the letter, not bothering to pick it up once it falls to the ground. They really are coming. There are about to be six girls locked up in this dungeon instead of two. And there's nothing I can do about it.

I walk over to the table and sit down, eyeing the board game that has been laid out on top of it. "Mystery Date," I mutter, reading off of the box. There are several knobs attached to parts of the board, most likely containing pictures underneath. I resist the urge to open one, even though the curiosity is itching at me. As long as that camera is watching, I can't do anything that I want to.

Instead, I lean my elbows on the table and keep my eyes focused down, trying to act as generic as possible so as to convince "A" – who may or may not be watching – that I'm still very much Bethany. I think back to that awful hole and shudder. I'll do whatever "A" wants if it means never going back there again.

I sit in insufferable silence for what seems like forever. I strain my ears for any sound of piano playing or voices, but the door to the game room is closed, and I can't hear a thing. Of course all of the walls in this place are soundproof. I shouldn't have expected anything less.

I lean back in my chair and fold my arms, picking at a strand of blond hair. I wonder vaguely how much time has passed. I look down at my wrist and gasp as I realize that I was wearing a watch, the watch I always used to wear, the day that "A" kidnapped me. I didn't realize it until now, but they took it from me.

Suddenly angry – my grandfather gave me that watch two years ago and I hadn't taken it off since that day – I dig my nails into my arms, forcing myself not to lash out at the camera or even make an unpleasant face. The hole. I have to keep reminding myself of that horrible place, way worse than this.

Then the door swings open.

I jump to my feet as Mona walks in, but before I can even open my mouth to say anything, four terrified, confused faces crowd the doorway.

Hanna. Aria. Spencer. Emily.

They're all here.

And they're all wearing bright orange prison jumpsuits.

I can't stop staring. Yes, I knew that they would be coming. "A" basically told me as much, and so did my sister, what was probably less than an hour ago. But seeing them here, doomed to the same fate as we are, isn't any less shocking.

It's Spencer who notices me first, and her eyes widen. "Oh my god."

The other girls, who had all been gazing around the room in shock and disgust, all turn to stare at me, their faces paling.

I take in a deep breath. The last time I saw any of them, I totally lost my mind and screamed in the middle of the quad. That night, I was kidnapped at the school.

There are about a million things I want to say right now, but I can't say any of them. Instead, I glance at each of them, very aware of the camera watching my every move, and smile blandly before I say the only thing that seems safe.

"Hi, guys. I'm glad I finally get to meet you. I'm Bethany."

...

Next, the prom planning begins, and the girls puzzle over the true identity of their kidnapper.