Thank you guys so much for the five reviews so quickly! I really appreciate it...and keep it up! Hearing your feedback just makes me want to update sooner. I haven't responded to reviews in a while, so I figured this is as good a time as any:

Fun With Typing - I was so excited to see your review! I've missed hearing from you!

karma3825 - You'll find out by the end of this chapter. ;)

RHatch89 - Oh yes! I was wondering if people would be surprised or not that I decided to go ahead and put Viola in the dollhouse.

Guest - Thank you for the kind words! I love hearing from new reviewers and I'm glad to hear that you're enjoying the story!

Pinkpoodle8 - Thanks, and I hope you had a happy birthday! It was so nice to read your feedback again!

Chapter 50

I'm so scared that I can barely breathe. I scoot back on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest as the almost automated-sounding female voice speaks again. "Please exit your room and follow the lighted pathway."

It sounds like it's coming from everywhere, all at once. I tilt my chin up, looking frantically around the room and ceiling. My eyes land on a little black video camera, secured to the wall in the corner, right up by the ceiling. A tiny red light glows on it, making it look almost threatening.

Oh my god. I'm being watched.

"Please exit your room and follow the lighted pathway," the voice speaks again. It sounds louder this time, but I know that's just due to my own panic. I press my hands to my chest, shaking all over as I slowly get up from the bed and move toward the door.

I peek outside, gripping the metal door in case I need to slam it closed. But I can't stop staring at what's outside.

I am most definitely not in Radley. Instead of the white tile floor is a dirt brown one, with yellow movie-theater styled lights lining the edges. The lighted pathway, I guess. It stretches on for what seems like forever, with only a few closed brown doors both on my side of the wall and the opposing side.

"Please exit your room and follow the lighted pathway," the smooth voice says again.

"I'm going," I snap, stepping out into the hallway and contemplating shutting the door to the room – my room. No. I have no idea what is going to await me at the end of this hallway. I may need to run back there.

I leave the door halfway open and start down the hallway, squeezing my shoulder blades together and trying to make myself as small as possible. There are a few other cameras along the walls, and I stare at each one. I think back to the dirt outside the window as I walk, and a realization hits me.

I'm underground.

Claustrophobia slams into me like a train, and I pause for a moment, leaning my hand against one of the brown walls and trying to catch my breath. What is this, an old underground bunker that "A" has converted into some sort of house?

No, I think, shaking my head and starting to move again, before that voice can give that stupid command again. Not just a house. A dollhouse.

I feel like I've been walking forever, but at the same time the door at the very end of the hallway is upon me all too soon. I grab the doorknob and push, and it opens easily. I brace myself and step into the room.

I feel a chill up my spine, and not just from the cold. I'm standing in Alison's living room. Everything is exactly the same. The wallpaper, the big black piano, the sofa and chairs around the table, even the family photos.

I take in a sharp breath as I gaze around, unable to believe this. This must have taken months, even years to put together, not to mention what all of this must have cost. This doesn't seem like some normal "A" plan, just to freak someone out and then let them go.

This feels permanent. And so far, there doesn't seem to be a way out.

I finger the end of a strand of my hair, suddenly uneasy. "A" dyed my hair blond, and now I'm standing in the DiLaurentis' living room. Am I supposed to be…Alison?

I'm so creeped out by the décor, and by that awful thought, that I don't notice the person sitting in a chair, her back to me, until she turns a page in the book she's holding. I nearly jump out of my skin, but relief floods through me. I'm not alone, and judging by the size of the girl, this is not the same person who kidnapped me.

I take a few steps closer, my eyes widening. Her hair is blond and curly, and I can see the bright yellow ruffles of her shirt. A shirt that looks exactly like the one Alison was wearing the night she disappeared.

Holy crap.

It can't be. Ali's in jail, wearing an orange jumpsuit, not a yellow shirt. But then again…if "A" can build all of this, they certainly can be capable of breaking someone out of jail, can't they?

My heart feels like it's going to pound right out of my chest. I step closer, and when I speak, the word comes out quiet and wavering. "Um…A-Alison?"

The girl jumps a little, like she hadn't been aware of my presence, and sets the book down on the coffee table. Then she stands and turns toward me, and I swear to God, I almost black out. Everything goes a little fuzzy.

My sister is standing in front of me. My sister, who has been dead for over two months, is standing in front of me, almost unrecognizable with hair just as blond as mine. "I'm so glad you're here," she says with a smile.

I stumble forward, reaching out and grabbing her hand. I'm actually surprised when my hand doesn't pass right through hers. "Mona," I gasp, unable to stop staring.

She pulls her hand out of mine abruptly, her brow furrowing. "What? Geez, I know we never officially met, but I thought I described myself better than that…" She reaches up, running a hand through her hair. "It's me. Alison."

This is by far the strangest situation I have ever been in. I reach up and pinch myself on the arm again, just for good measure. I am still not dreaming.

"Um," I say just to fill the silence, because Mona is still watching me expectantly, smiling. She's been brainwashed, I realize with a surge of alarm. And it's probably only a matter of time before I am, too.

I reach up, tugging on a strand of my own blond hair. I have no idea what she was just talking about, but I glance at the black monitor in the corner of the room and decide to play along. What is going on here is slowly becoming clear. "Uh, right…Alison."

"I can't believe we're finally getting to meet," Mona gushes, and I suddenly understand why she sounds so strange, so unlike herself. She sounds just like Alison. She puts her hands on my shoulders, holding me at arms length. "This is so exciting, like I'm finally meeting my own twin."

I am at a complete loss for words, so I just stare at her. She looks back at me, and for just a moment, something changes in her eyes. But then it's gone and the very Alison-like smile is back, just as three loud chimes echo around the room.

I pull away and wince, resisting the urge to press my hands over my ears at the shrill sound. "What the hell?" I blurt out without thinking.

Mona ignores me and walks over to the coffee table, picking up an old-fashioned tray filled with food and two teacups. "Tea time," she announces, gesturing for me to sit.

"Tea what?" I mutter, but obey because what else am I going to do? Clearly I'm going to have to play along with whatever little game is going on here, until I can figure out if there's an alternative. But so far, it's not looking good.

I grab a cookie off of the silver tray and turn it over in my hand. It looks real, and almost freshly baked, too. But my stomach is churning too badly for me to even think about eating anything, let alone something most likely made by "A." I'd rather starve to death.

Mona sits down across from me, and I set down the cookie, staring blatantly at her as the gravity of what's happening finally begins to sink in. She's alive. I have a sister again.

I can't help but smile, everything else about this situation temporarily forgotten. "I can't believe you're okay," I say, feeling myself choke up a little. I wish more than anything that I could tell my mother. I can't get the imagine of her crying in Mona's room out of my head.

My sister looks down at her lap. "I know. If Mrs. Grunwald hadn't found me in time, I don't know what I would've done."

Her response catapults me back into reality. I remember that name…Grunwald was the woman who pulled Alison out of her own grave.

Ugh.

I'm not sure how much longer I can take this, pretending that I'm sitting here having tea with Alison, in her living room. It's all starting to freak me out, like "A" has concocted this scenario and who knows how many others, and is sitting back watching through the video monitor and laughing…

I leap up, panic suddenly swelling inside of me. I spot a door across the room, different from the one I came in through, and rush toward it. I know it's hopeless – an escape couldn't be this easy - but I'm still caught off-guard when I fling open the door to reveal a brick wall pressed right up against it.

"Oh my god," I mutter, pressing a hand to my chest and leaning my forehead against the brick. "Oh my god, I can't believe this. We're trapped."

The chime, almost like bells, starts up again, and I grimace. "It's time for the game," Mona says once the chimes stop, standing abruptly and walking right out of the room.

Feeling a fresh wave of panic, I run after her, back into the long, dank hallway. I grab onto her arm, barely able to breathe. "Where are you going? What the hell is going on, Mona?"

"Never call me that again," she snaps without even glancing in my direction, yanking her arm out of my grip and walking into a room about halfway down the hallway. I take a deep breath and follow, forcing down my anger.

I'm not sure what I was expecting…maybe some sort of torture room or something. But instead I walk into a child's playroom. It's old-fashioned, filled with creepy old toys like blocks, puppets, and board games, all looking like they're from the early nineties, at least. A set of bunk beds with blue plaid sheets sits in the corner. I get the feeling that this is supposed to mimic a little boy's playroom…but why?

My sister takes a seat at the table so I do as well. I eye the four large plastic cups that sit upside down on the wooden surface. They're each a different, bright color. What is this, some kind of magic act?

Without waiting for permission, I look defiantly up at the camera and reach over, grabbing the cup closest to me and lifting it from the table. But instead of a little magic ball, there's a doll sitting underneath. A doll with black hair and fair skin.

"We're supposed to wait for instructions before we start playing," Mona insists, a little frantically.

I ignore her, picking up the doll and turning it over in my hand. There's something familiar about the look of it, but I don't realize what that is until I take notice of the doll's somewhat eccentric outfit…and the pink streaks in its hair…

"It's Aria," I whisper, mostly to myself. "This is Aria." I throw the doll down on the table and reach for the next cup, knocking it on its side to reveal a second doll, this one with blond hair. "And Hanna."

"Stop!" Mona cries, swatting my hand away. She glances nervously up at the camera, watching us from the corner of the room.

"No!" I yell, leaping up and grabbing the remaining two cups, tossing them aside. Two more dolls, both with dark brown hair. Spencer and Emily. "What?" I go on, spinning around to face the security camera. "Is this some sort of stupid little riddle? You're gonna kidnap them and trap them in here to play this sick little game with us?"

I pause for just a moment to take a breath. My anger is still bubbling, and I'm not done yet. But before I can speak another word, the loudest, shrillest alarm I've ever heard goes off, coming from every direction.

I scream, ducking down and clapping my hands over my ears. All of my senses temporarily disappear. This blows the fire alarm at school way out of the water. It's only been going off for three seconds and it already feels like it's inside my head.

"Oh my god!" I shout above the sound, digging my fingers against my ears.

"We have to go back to our rooms!" Mona screams, and takes off. I run after her, catching up just as she darts into a room across the hallway from mine. It's decorated just like Alison's bedroom, I notice in the brief moment I have to look inside before it closes between us.

The last thing I want is to be alone again, especially in that creepy little room, but if the alternative is listening to this horrible blaring for even one more second, I know that I don't have a choice. I run straight into my room before I give myself any more time to think, and the door swings shut – all on its own – behind me.

The moment the door clicks into place, silence fills the room. I collapse against the side of the cot, my hands dropping down from my ears. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can still feel the alarm reverberating inside of my head, so loud that I can't imagine it ever going away.

I don't want to be alone in here. The room is tiny, so small that I can't help the drastic feeling of claustrophobia. I run to the door and yank, but it doesn't budge. I've been locked in.

"Mona!" I scream, pounding on the door with both hands. There's no response, so I grimace and try again. "Alison!"

After a few more minutes of knocking my fists against the metal door, my hands are too sore to continue. I groan and sink down onto the edge of the pathetic little bed, finally feeling tears start to leak out of my eyes. I'm surprised that it's taken me this long to cry.

We're trapped down here, in some crazy underground bunker. And the only person who knows we're here is the insane stalker who has probably had this plan in the works for months…years.

But the worst part is, I have no way to warn the other girls of what seems likely to be in their fate. Suddenly, what's behind the other closed doors around my room becomes obvious. More bedrooms. One for each of them.

I let out one last sob and sit up, rubbing the tears out of my eyes and glaring up at the camera. I'm not going to give this psycho the satisfaction of seeing me so upset. I'm going to find a way out of here, even if I have to dig at the dirt outside the window with only my fingernails.

I jump up, ready to go do just that, when I catch sight of something resting on the dresser. It's a brown package, with a white notecard taped to it. There's a note written on the card, in red, blocky handwriting: A little welcome home present. –A

I shudder at the words. This is not my home. This will never be my home. This is hell.

I rip the card into pieces and sweep them all to the floor, turning my attention to the thin package. Something tells me that it is not a good idea to open this. For all I know, it's probably some kind of bomb or drug or something.

I shake that thought from my head, almost laughing at myself. I'm already here. Why would "A" need to drug me now?

Holding my breath, I rip off the brown paper in one quick motion. It's a sketchbook, large but not very thick, with a dull pencil attached. That seems like a stupid idea. If I was any more desperate than I am now, I'd take the tip of that pencil right to my wrist.

Instead, I set it aside and flip through the sketchbook, noting that every page is empty. "Great," I mutter, refusing to look at the camera. "A" is probably watching right now, waiting for me to thank them. The thought fills me with disgust. "Now I can express through art just how much this sucks."

It really is empty. Every single page is blank…except the very last one. There's something written there, but in small black cursive instead of "A's" usual large, unspecific print.

I squint, bringing the book closer to my face to read the words. As soon as I do, I feel the blood drain from my face.

Property of Bethany Young.

...

Again, please, please keep up the awesome reviewing and let me know what you think! Here is an excerpt from the next chapter: "I hear the familiar click of the door beginning to open, and I shoot up in bed, clutching the scratchy sheet to my chest and scooting back to the end of the bed, my hands shaking and my heart beginning to pound."