Thanks again to everyone who is reading & reviewing. Hoping I've written this part well enough not to be too confusing (just a little bit!). More soon.
5.
Caleb wakes gradually from what feels like a very deep sleep. It's no surprise given the exhaustion of everything that's happened over the last few days. He hasn't slept since before Hanna was kidnapped. The fear and trying to figure out where she was, then the pain of being tortured and trying to navigate through mind-games and fake nuptials must have taken its toll. He opens his eyes, rolling over as he does so to see if Hanna's awake yet. He freezes. Her side of the bed is empty.
"Han?" he calls. He climbs out of bed. As far as he can tell, everything is as they left it, his clothes scattered on the floor, the wedding dress Hanna was wearing crumpled beside the bed. "You in the bathroom, babe?"
The door to the bathroom is ajar and so he pushes it gently. The room's empty. "Hanna?" He runs his hand over the back of his head. The gnawing fear in the pit of his stomach is rapidly spreading throughout this body. "Hanna, where are you?"
He turns slowly in the centre of the room, breathing deeply, trying to remain composed. He can't understand it; they were literally locked in a room together, there's nowhere she could have gone. An idea comes to him in a flash, and he runs to the door, expecting it to swing open. It doesn't. He rattles the handle but it's stuck firm. He bangs a fist against the door. He knocks sharply three times and then holds his breath hoping for a return knock, something that indicates Hanna's just the other side, having gone to explore and then got locked out. Nothing comes.
He lets out a yell of frustration. He needs to where she is, and he needs to know it now. With sudden impulsivity, he begins searching the room for clues, turning furniture upside down, emptying the contents of drawers across the floor, even hunting the lining of that ridiculous wedding dress. His hands shake as he does so, desperation rapidly growing as the truth becomes harder and harder to deny. A's taken her. A's taken her again.
His chest clenches. He's let her down. He failed to protect her. And this time they're in hell.
He pinpoints the nearest camera and as heat rushes to his head, he walks towards it, "Where is she?" he demands, looking directly into the lens.
There's no answer.
"What have you done to her?"
Nothing but silence.
With a growl, he kicks the nearest item, an upturned coffee table. It hurts his bare foot but he doesn't care. The only thing that matters is getting out of the room and reaching Hanna. He returns to the door and shoves it with his shoulder. It doesn't budge. He throws himself at it again. There's no sign of it being close to giving but still, he tries again and again, throwing punch after punch at the unmovable item until energy drains from him.
"Hanna!" he shouts once more but his voice betrays him, cracking, nowhere near loud enough for her to hear him.
He sinks to the ground and smears the blood from broken skin on his knuckles across his hand.
Her eyes snap open. She's no stranger to bad dreams but it's been a while since she's had one so bad that it felt like the world was caving in around her. Her chest feels tight. She tries her hardest to take a few deep breaths. She focuses on the mattress beneath her and tries to ground herself. The old techniques are never far from reach. It was just a dream. Just a dream.
But as she calms, reality starts to resurface and she remembers where she is and everything that's happened, kidnap, torture, A controlling her and Caleb. She hasn't left the nightmare at all. She's trapped in it. The only difference is that Caleb's here with her. She always feels safer in his arms. She rolls over, knowing her won't mind her waking him. But the bed's empty. He's not there.
She sits bolt upright, heart immediately pounding harder than it was when she'd first awoke. "Caleb?"
She squints through the semi-darkness. That wedding dress is in a heap on the floor. The various parts to Caleb's suit are scattered around nearby. The rose petals she'd been so frantic to get rid of still litter the carpet.
"Caleb," she says again, louder this time. "Caleb!" she just about screams his name. If he's here, there's no chance he didn't hear her. "No, no no no," she says as she gets out of bed, getting tangled in the duvet as she rushes, "no, Caleb, where are you?"
She races around the room, checking the bathroom and every corner making sure he's not replying due to being unconscious somewhere. It should be a relief that she doesn't find him in that state but the alternative is too hard to bear. A's got him.
"What have you done to him?" she shouts at the nearest camera. Hot tears tumble down her cheeks. "Where is he?"
Her breathing's beginning to get erratic again. Her fingers hook under the collar of the t-shirt and she pulls it away from her neck. It makes no difference. She can't breathe. She stumbles against the wall, places her palm flat against it and tries to pacify herself. In, two, three, out, two, three, just like Caleb would tell her.
"Please," she says to the empty room, "please don't hurt him." A tear trickles into her open mouth. "Bring him back to me. I'll do anything."
She falls to her knees and curls in on herself, sobbing.
The television pings as it activates. He raises his head.
"Good morning, Caleb."
That voice. Sickly sweet as usual.
"Where's Hanna?" he demands.
"Please get ready, Caleb. You have a busy day ahead of you."
"Where's. Hanna?"
"Please get ready, Caleb."
"I'm not doing anything until you tell me where she is!" He thumps his fist against the door. "Tell me!"
"You have a busy day ahead of you."
He staggers to his feet. Every part of him aches but the worst pain comes from losing Hanna, from imaging what could be happening to her now he's not with her. He raises a finger, pointing it at the faceless head on the television screen. "I swear to God, if you've hurt her in any way, I will kill you myself."
There comes no response. His head falls back in despair. As much as he hates this one-way communication with the voice, doing what it wants is the only chance he can think of to get back to Hanna. "Fine," he mutters, "have it your way."
He grabs the first t-shirt and pair of jeans that he finds and dresses quickly, not bothering to wash or do anything to tame his hair. He's rewarded by the click of a door lock.
"Please proceed to the office."
"Why, is Hanna there?"
He shoves the door open with such force that it clatters against the wall. He hopes it leaves a mark. He follows the corridor, just like they had yesterday, wishing Hanna's hand were in his like it had been then. He bangs on each door that he passes, waiting barely a second to see if the door opens before he moves onto the next one.
"Hanna?" he calls. "Can you hear me?"
"Please proceed to the office."
The command doesn't change anything. He continues to hammer on each door he passes, shouting her name, making as much noise as possible. But A drowns him out. The alarm pierces his ears and he stumbles in shock. He doesn't understand how a noise can physically hurt. He clasps his hands over his ears and continues on his mission, kicking each door rather than hitting, trying to ignore the feeling that someone was drilling into his skull.
One of the furthest doors is labelled as the office. He enters the room, the door slams behind him and the alarm immediately stops ringing. At first, the quiet is too much of a relief to notice what he's seeing. It's a small, dark room, the longest wall decked with a series of monitors and a vast control panel, which he can only assume is CCTV. He's seen similar, at the police station, several jobs, even at The Radley, but all at a lesser extent. First impressions suggest this CCTV is more extensive than all of those put together. Except every screen is blank.
"Please take a seat."
He's so perplexed by the setup that he does as he's told. It's not like there's anywhere else he can go anyway. But as soon as he sits on the large office chair, clasps spring from within it, wrapping around each bicep, his thighs, his calves and another that straps around his chest, pinning him to the chair. Panic surges through his body and he fights against the restraints with all the strength he has. They don't even budge. He's trapped. At that means there's no way to rescue Hanna.
She's been left alone for hours. Long enough to have fought the panic attack. Long enough to have turned the fear into adrenaline and be ready to kick some A ass. The system pings as it activates. She scrambles to her feet. She knows how this works; with the voice come instructions, with instructions come a chance to find out what's happened.
"Where's Caleb?"
"Good morning, Hanna."
"No, it's not a good morning. I want to see Caleb."
"I want never gets, Hanna."
A shiver runs down her spine. It's never directly spoken back before.
"Spare me the motto. Where is he? What have you done to him?"
"Time to get dressed, Hanna. Have a look in your wardrobe."
She stomps across the room. "I looked in there yesterday. You have our clothes, I get it." She flings open the wardrobe doors. Only half of it is filled; her half. It looks just like after he'd packed his bags and left her alone in New York. She ignores the less than subtle dig, she knows he's not left her this time, he's been taken.
"I picked you an outfit. It's in the bag."
She sees a black dress bag that she's sure wasn't in there the previous day. With a roll of her eyes, she unzips the bag. It contains a black dress, one she recognises. One she wore to Ali's funeral, all those years ago when they thought their friend was dead.
"Do you like your dress, Hanna?"
"Okay, this is sick," she snaps. She knows it's no coincidence that this is the dress that has been picked. "You really need to get a life."
"Please put on your dress."
"Why would your twisted little games involve me going to a funeral?"
"Oh, this isn't a game, Hanna."
Hanna freezes, dress in one hand. "What do you-? No, Ali's safe in Welby, you can't have got to her in there."
"Please put on your dress."
"Fine." She turns her back on the camera and pulls Caleb's t-shirt over her head, letting it tumble to the floor, then swiftly redressing. She turns back to glare at AD through the lens. "Now what?"
She hears the latch on her door released.
"Please proceed to the chapel."
She rushes to the exit and peers down the corridor. "Caleb?" There's nothing. "Caleb!" Her throat hurts from days of screaming. She rushes down the corridor, dizzy, stumbling, but the hope she'll find him keeping her going.
She can hear piano music before she pushes the door to the chapel open. It's not alike the church in Rosewood, this is carpeted with plastic chairs, much like the kind of multi-faith room you'd find in a hospital or airport. Or a hotel, she supposes, if that's what this hellhole is meant to be. A TV screen sits above a makeshift altar. At the base, is a large flower arrangement.
As she creeps nearer, the door slams behind her. She jumps from the noise. Much as this room is creeping her out and she wants to get out to find Caleb, something is propelling her forward. When she's close enough she can read the name spelt out in flowers. She shakes her head. No. This is A playing tricks on her again. He'd been right beside her just a few hours ago, holding her, kissing her, telling her he loved her. Still, a tear trickles down her cheek at the thought of it.
"Where is he?" she demands. "Where's Caleb?"
The TV flickers into life. There's a picture of Caleb. She knows when it was taken, senior prom. She'd made Lucas lend her the camera and she'd snapped the picture before he had chance to make an excuse. He's smiling at her though, a younger version but just as handsome.
Beneath the picture is some lettering. His birthday alongside what she presumes is today's date and three words which send a shiver down her spine. Rest in peace.
"No." She dabs at her eyes, determined not to let it get to her. "No, you're lying, I know you are."
"Why play with Ken when you can have Barbie all to yourself?"
She runs a hand over her knotted hair. "No, enough! Give him back to me, you bitch. Now!"
"He's dead. I killed him."
"I don't believe you!" It comes out as a scream. Her whole body's shaking now. The room is spinning, and it feels like the world is slipping away from her. That's the only thing she has left to cling onto, the thought that it's a lie, that Caleb is alive and well and will rescue her any minute. "You're lying."
"I never lie to you, Hanna."
The screen flickers to black for just a moment and then the previous photo is replaced by another.
Bile leaps into her throat. She clamps a hand over her mouth. A scream escapes. The screen shows a picture of Caleb's dead body. He's sprawled across the floor, eyes open but glossy, blood pooling from a bullet wound in the side of his head.
Even though it's the worst thing she's ever seen, she can't take her eyes off it. Even when they're flooded with tears and all she can see is the red of his blood, she remains frozen in shock. Caleb. Her Caleb. Dead. Her knees buckle.