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Chapter 53
It's taken over a month, but my body has finally started adjusting to being here. I wake up at the same time every night, even when I was in that horrible dark hole, with no concept of time or artificial sunlight.
So when I jolt awake that night, I throw off the sheet and leap up, knowing exactly what time it must be. But the time doesn't matter. All that matters is the next three minutes.
I'm counting on the fact that Mona has woken the others – although, remembering my first night here, none of them were probably sleeping anyway – and gotten them up, so I run alone down the hallway to the area where it splits off, and find that I'm right. All five of them are standing there, talking.
The girls are still wearing the jumpsuits, but I don't even want to ask. I join the group and grab my sister's hand, still unable to believe that we both made it out of these last few weeks.
"How much have you told them?" I ask.
"Exactly what I told you," Mona replies, glancing in the direction of the vault. I look, too, my curiosity spiking. As much as I've gotten used to this place, that sealed door still never fails to interest me.
"What's in there?" Spencer asks, her voice wavering. She and the others are all standing close together, their arms crossed or their shoulders hunched. They're all pale and almost green-looking, and I'm reminded again of how I felt when I first woke up here.
"I'm dying to know too, Spencer," Mona says while I press my hand to my stomach, suddenly nauseous. "But I've never made it inside. It's too far to make it back to your room."
"What happens if you don't make it back in time?" Spencer says cautiously.
I shake my head, because thankfully, I've never had to find out, but my sister explains immediately. "It leaves you for days without food or water. It blasts the siren until you'd rather die than listen to it one more second." She pauses, taking a deep breath. "On a loop…it plays a recording of the people that you've left behind, crying at your funeral."
I feel like I've just been punched in the stomach. Since I've been here, I've spent most of my time either locked in my room or stuck in the hole. I've been starved, too, and listened to that awful siren several times. But that last part…I can't imagine anything so horrible. I let out a choked out sob and squeeze her hand tightly.
"Is our mom okay?" she asks, her voice small, and I nod, speaking through the lump in my throat, "What does she think happened to me?"
But all four of them are staring at us with wide eyes of surprise. "You know you're Mona," Hanna says to my sister, and Aria adds, her eyes on me, "And you know you're not Bethany."
"That's who it wanted us to become," Mona explains. "So that's who we are when it's watching."
"You don't want to know what happens when we try to be ourselves," I add, shivering. "It beats you right back to submission."
"It thinks it beat me," my sister cuts in, her voice low. "But I'm still here. I'm the one who's winning the game."
That may be the saddest thing I have ever heard. I press my hand to my mouth to hide the fact that I'm on the verge of tears. But then again, I wonder how I would be acting, what my thought process would be, if I had been here as long as she has. I can't even imagine it.
"Where does my mom think I am?" I blurt out, my mother's face filling my mind as it occurs to me that, over the past few months, she hasn't only lost one daughter. She's lost both. "Does she think I'm dead?"
"No one knows," Spencer answers, meeting my eyes sadly. " 'A' never tried to stage your death or give any hints. All anyone knows is that you disappeared after you told your mom you were going to the Brew. There's been an investigation, but they haven't been able to link your disappearance to Alison."
"But they convicted Ali for your murder," Hanna adds to Mona, who smiles a bit at this, I notice. "Your mom never showed up to the courthouse. We heard it was too much for her, with both of you gone."
I can barely breathe. "A" didn't even bother to make it seem like I was killed. For over a month, my mother has had to live with the mystery of what happened to me. I almost think it would have been better for her to believe I was dead. Then at least she'd get some closure.
I glance over at the four girls beside us, still wearing those bright orange prison jumpsuits. "And they arrested you guys because they think you were helping Alison?"
"They arrested us as accessories," Spencer confirms.
Mona smirks. "I didn't think you were wearing that to make a fashion statement."
Hanna lets out a laugh, suddenly moving to hug her. "God, I'm so glad you're okay." She pulls away and puts a hand on my arm, too. "Both of you."
I finally feel a little of the icy feeling in my chest begin to melt. As much as it still sucks that we're all stuck here, something hopeful begins to creep in. There are six of us now. Six girls against one tormentor.
"A" might be just as omnipresent as ever, but I can't help but like those odds.
…
We're walking down the hallway the next morning, on our way to the big empty room just in front of the sealed vault, when Spencer suddenly blurts out something very interesting. "You guys, the blocks in the playroom spelled out a name. Charles."
"What?" I hiss, barely comprehending what she's talking about, until I recall those several wooden alphabet blocks on the shelf in that little child-like game room.
Charles.
"A" is a guy? For some reason, this shocks me, and judging by the looks on everyone else's faces, no one else knows what to do with this information, either. As we walk into the big empty room that somewhat resembles a warehouse, I wrack my brain for any memory of someone named Charles. I come up empty.
The big room is usually completely empty, but today there are several large plastic tables set up. Yesterday, we all received invitations to "prom." So I guess we have to set it up, too.
"Please find your stations," the automated female voice speaks over the intercom, confirming my thoughts, and we span out across the room.
There are placards set out on every table. Aria reaches hers first. "Aria Montgomery, music committee."
"Emily Fields and Spencer Hastings, decorating committee."
"Hanna Marin, food and drink." Hanna glances up at the camera that's watching us from the corner of the room, scowling. "Bite me."
I laugh, despite myself, and grab the only placard remaining. "Alison DiLaurentis and Bethany Young, prom queen election committee." I drop it back onto the table, glancing at the stack of cards and several large boxes that line the table.
Aria picks up a clipboard from her station and flips through it, her brow wrinkling in confusion. "All of these songs are from, like, seven years ago."
Spencer grabs a mask from her table and examines it. "A Night at the Opera. That was the prom theme the last year that Melissa took Ian."
Hanna shakes her head, frowning. "So 'A's' recreating a prom we already had?"
"Well," Mona says, grabbing a card and a pen from the table, "if I'm on the election committee, you can be sure I'll win that crown." She glances at me and smirks. "Sorry, Bethany."
I pause, and, remembering that Bethany supposedly hated Alison, roll my eyes, crossing my arms. "Wow. I never thought it was possible for someone to be so self-absorbed." I sigh, feeling like I'm in a bad high school drama production.
She narrows her eyes at me and turns away, saying to Spencer, "Sort of like old times, huh, Spencer? Remember when I rigged the election for you to win class president?" She glances back at me, and I raise my eyebrows at the look in her eyes. She has a plan. "Want to fill some of these out? I'll help you if you help me."
Spencer seems to come to the same conclusion that I do. Setting down the mask that she was holding, she walks over. "Sure."
"If 'A' doesn't mind," Mona says slowly, glancing over at Aria, Emily, and Hanna, "maybe we can all help each other, starting with these ballots."
We all crowd around the table, shoulder-to-shoulder, our backs facing the camera. My sister uncaps a marker and begins writing on one of the ballots.
Did you guys get a gas mask from A?
My stomach lurches. I look at the girls around me, shaking my head along with them.
It's Hanna who finally states what we're – or at least I'm – thinking. She grabs another pen and a new ballot and writes, I'm scared.
Me too.
...
Next, the girls put an escape plan into action the night of the prom.
