***Chapter 22***

**Aria's POV**

My dad didn't change his restriction over night like I had hoped; he drove Mike to school and then came back with coffee and pastries from the Brew. The kitchen was silent while we ate, well he ate; I more picked at my food still nauseated from the idea of being monitored so closely. After we finished, I went up and grabbed my bag which contained my camera, dropped my phone, keys, and wallet into the bag and headed downstairs. I grabbed a jacket before dropping it in my bag before following him out the door.

"Do you know about how long you'll need in the photo studio?" my dad asked, when I moved to climb out of the car.

"I don't know. A few hours at least." I replied as I slung my bag over my shoulder. "I'll text you when I'm ready?"

I half-hoped that he would wait for me to tell him so that I could slip out and head over to Carol's with the others. But I could see from his face that he wouldn't be tricked like he was yesterday.

"No, I'll be around in a few hours. I only have two classes today and only a few hours at the office. So I'll come pick you up right after." He decided. "But if you get done early then you can come on over to my office."

I nodded my head before heading towards the photo studio. I heard my phone chirp in my bag, but looking around at how exposed I was out in the open like this, I didn't want to check it until I was stationary. I walked through the halls of the art building until I came to the art studio door. There was a girl at the front of the lab, sitting beside a computer. I headed over to her pulling out my old Hollis ID from when I was taking classes here. I still counted as a student, so the ID was my key to using the photo lab. She looked at me once she had taken a look at my ID, but after a moment she looked away.

I took the card back from her, looking at the photo. It was from a few years ago, but that didn't excuse just how much I had changed from the girl in the photo. It wasn't just my hair, but there was a change in my face as well. I knew my face now was a little sharper, cheekbones just a touch more prominent from the weight I had lost down in the silo. The girl in the photo looked happy and carefree, even though she had been terrorized by A as well. I guess back then I didn't actually know what it meant to be afraid. I shoved the card back into my wallet and dropped it back into my bag.

There were still about 5 minutes until the lab would be mine, so I pulled out my phone to find out who had texted me earlier on my walk into the lab. There was a message on it from Hanna.

-Hanna: Are you coming to Carol's?-

I gave a sigh, wishing that I could go with them and try to find Charles. But at the same time, realizing that there was no way that I could slip off campus without my dad finding out. He would be expecting to see my photos after today so if I didn't get them developed he would know. And I didn't have time to develop them, sneak off campus, and then back on.

-Me: I can't. My dad is waiting for me on campus.-

I made sure that I had everything set and headed into the dark room. It was soothing, developing the photos. The actions themselves were mechanical, as I had done this same process so many times before when I was working as a photo assistant. It was part of the reason that I loved using real film instead of just digital. There was something special about playing with the chemicals to get the perfect result. Something in having the opportunities to make those miniscule changes that turn mediocrity into genius. At least that's the goal.

I turned around to grab another bottle of developer from the shelf when I saw the little bottle. Instantly, my chest grew tight and I was back in the dollhouse. All it took was a little bottle of dye and my hands flew to my hair, feeling the shortened length and the damaged strands that had been re-dyed. He had been here, in this tiny room. I knew he had. I looked around frantically, expecting him to reach out from a dark corner and grab me. The walls were suddenly tight and I began to shake from fear and cold. I ran to the door, ready to pull it open and get some fresh air, freedom from the darkness. The tremors grew worse as I pulled fruitlessly at the door. But it wouldn't budge.

"Help!" I shouted, hoping that someone would help me out of this room. I pounded my hands against the door. "Please, somebody help me."

I needed to get out of this room. Now. It felt like I was trapped and he was just waiting to come and claim me. If I didn't get out he would take me back. I couldn't go back there. I called for help again, feeling my throat hurt from the strain. It had been so long since I had been this loud. I could feel the tears burning in my eyes as my desperation increased. Finally when the panic was consuming me, the door pulled back from my hands causing me to cascade out into the room and whoever had released me. My mind barely registered their body heat, thinking that Charles had waited until I was panicking to claim me again, when I flinched backwards into the wall next to the door.

"Hey, hey, you're okay." A strange voice attempted to soothe, and it was the realization that I didn't recognize it that let my eyes open and take in the figure in front of me.

He was taller than me, his hands stretched out in front of him like he was trying to calm a wild animal. I was vaguely aware that he dressed like your average college student in jeans and a hoodie, but what really drew me in was the look on his face. There was tenderness, concern, and amazingly comfort there which wasn't what I expected from a complete stranger. The back of my mind registered how cute he was, and that if I hadn't sworn off relationships and pretty much any guy that I wouldn't mind being in a small room with him. But I pushed those thoughts back into the darkness of my mind and concentrated on the here and now.

He was repeating that it was okay and that I just needed to breathe, to take a few breaths and it would be alright. Apparently, I was muttering that I was okay back to him, even though I was still against the wall. Finally, I took a step closer towards him. His scent strengthened and I was relieved when it helped to get rid of the memories of being in the dollhouse since it was unique to him and I hadn't encountered it before.

"I'm alright. Just needed to get some air and the door wouldn't open." I rationalized, trying to pass it off as a normal person's reaction to being trapped in the tiny room. "Did you see who was in there before me?"

"Uh, no. I was in the other room." He replied, sticking his head into the dark room while I eyed it with caution. He stepped back out and held up a wooden wedge. "Looks like someone put a wedge in the door, that's why it wouldn't open when you pushed on it."

I gave a nod, attempting to dismiss my concern, at least for his sake. I didn't want to seem like I had been freaking out as much as I had been. Though it probably wasn't working.

"I'm Clark." He interrupted my train of thought as he outstretched his hand for me to shake.

"Aria." I replied, the response automatic even though he probably already knew who I was based on all the stories on the news. "Thank you."

As I shook his hand, I watched his face. There wasn't any reaction to my name, no sign of recognition that I was one of those girls. Maybe he didn't know what had happened. I clung to that hope as I smiled at him.

"You gonna go back in?" Clark asked after a moment, motioning in the direction of the dark room.

"Uh, yeah. I'm pretty much done anyway." I responded, moving back to the room and leaving the door open as I inched towards the doorway.

"Do you want me to get your prints?" Clark offered, making me turn back to look at him.

I wanted to brush him off, prove that I was strong enough to go back in there and finish what I was doing. But at the same time, looking at him and seeing that he was willing to help me, a perfect stranger. It made me feel so much better, made the tightness in my chest ease. I nodded my head and he headed into the dark room. I watched from the doorway as he quickly took the prints down from where they were hanging and placed them in a pile. He dumped out the chemicals and then grabbed the stack of photos and my bag before bringing them back over to me. I smiled at him when he passed them to me.

"There you are." He offered with a grin and I couldn't help but match it.

"Thank you." I said again.

"Yeah, I need to grab my prints too. One sec." he replied with another smile, before heading for the other dark room.

I waited for a moment before heading over to the light table, wanting to see how they had turned out. I eyed the dark room once again before turning my back on it. I wondered if he had noticed the bottle of hair dye that was in there as he was cleaning up. I dreaded the thought of having to go back in there, but knew that it wouldn't be good if anyone saw that. Not with the threat against Sarah, if we told anyone. I set my bag and prints down next to the door and then made sure that the wedge was holding the door open this time before I ran inside the room and quickly tossed both the bottle of hair dye and the note into the garbage can. I raced out of that room as fast as I could, before the door could close on me again. I steadied my breaths as I leaned against the door, before grabbing my things to head over to the light table.

I laid out all the photos on the light table, each one depicting something in my room. Though my favorite by far was the one of the sunset, even though it was in black and white it was still breath-taking to me. I let my hand linger on it a moment before I started piling the photos up again. I could hear Clark coming in from the other dark room with his photos. He came up on my left side, looking at the photos that were still laid out on the table.

"You wanna take a look?" he offered, placing his pile of photos on the table.

"Yeah, sure." I responded, interested in what he had chosen as his subject.

He started laying out pictures of landscapes, skylines, lakeshores, and trees. There was one that was a tree standing stark against its white background, the branches at sharp angles that made it so much stronger as an image.

"Wow, I love that one." I said, tapping the striking image on the table.

"Oh no, that's no good. I used the wrong filter." He responded, dismissing it quickly and taking the photo away from the light to put it in a reject pile.

"No, it's really good." I argued, hating that he rejected the beautiful image.

"Well, really good doesn't cut it for National Geographic." He replied, brushing my compliment aside.

"National Geographic? You work for them?" I looked at him appraisingly, wondering why a professional photographer was doing his developing at Hollis. Or wondering if he submitted to them while taking courses here.

"Uh, no. But I'm hoping to someday." He clarified, before turning his gaze back to the images.

The way that he shot the images, I could tell that National Geographic was right up his alley. What he chose for his photos, the perspectives he used. They were beautiful and all about maintaining the reality of something and highlighting its beauty. I'm sure that he would get a job with them once they saw his portfolio.

"Now, that is a haunting image." He broke me out of my thoughts by pulling the image of the baby doll from my room towards him.

I stared at it, thinking how incredibly creepy it looked, its pale face against the darkness. The mouth slightly open and eyes blankly staring out into the room. I had taken it slightly off frame and the whole image seemed especially skewed because of it.

"Oh, that. I don't know why I took that." I tried to brush it off, embarrassed that he was looking at my work.

"No, I love it. How its framed off center like that." He looked at some of the other photos that were included in my pile, there were several dolls positioned in different manners around my room. "You have a great eye."

I moved to cover the photos up, not wanting him to see them all. Even though they were only my room and dolls, they were intensely personal. As I had taken those pictures, it had made me feel slightly better to manipulate the room to how I wanted it to be.

"But you can't be afraid to show people your work, get some feedback. You'd be amazed how much it can help." He continued as I pulled away.

I looked down, knowing that it was the truth, that I should be able to show people my photos. Suddenly my phone chirped from inside my bag, causing me to pull it out. My dad was calling, he must be here and waiting for me to come out.

"That's my dad. I gotta go." I told him, gathering up the last of my photos and placing them into my bag.

"Something to remember me by?" Clark offered, holding out the beautiful tree that I loved.

"Thanks." I said, taking the photo and smiling at him before heading out the door.

I answered the call from my dad, telling him that I was on my way out to the car. I glanced back at the building, where Clark was still working. Honestly, I was kinda glad that I hadn't been able to go to Carol's house in search of Charles. I met someone who was really cool and spent a day that almost made me feel normal. I tucked the photo from Clark into my bag as well before heading over to my dad's car which was idling in front of the curb.

"Did you get all your photos developed?" he asked, as we began the drive back home.

"Yeah, I did. I also met this nice guy who was developing his film as well." I responded, happy to talk about my day for once.

"That's good. Who's this guy?" he questioned easily, I think he knew that I wasn't going to be going anywhere near guys anytime soon. Probably from all the flinching around him and Mike that I had been doing, something that I needed to stop.

I explained that Clark was a student at Hollis, majoring in photography with a minor in film studies. Then the topic turned to his day, apparently his office hours had been ridiculous today since there was a term paper coming up next week that his students were just now coming up with their topics for. When we got back to the house, I waved to the squad car parked out front and the officer inside nodded before getting on his radio.

My dad went to his office to put away his things and work on some grading while I went into the living room. I set my bag down on the chair beside the couch before pulling out the pile of photos. Laying them out here on the coffee table wasn't nearly as stunning as on the light table back at the photo lab, since the lack of light lessened the intensity of the contrast. But still the photos were still jarring against the dark brown of the wood. I thought about how Clark had said that I shouldn't be afraid to show my work to other people, would he still say the same thing if he knew that I had been taking pictures of my prison? My eyes lingered on an image of the chair by the window along with the lamp beside it, I remembered how many nights I had curled up on that chair reading when I didn't want to fall asleep yet.

"Hey, you hungry?" my dad asked, breaking me from my thoughts as he walked into the room.

I instinctively started gathering up my photos, worried that he would see them.

"Yeah, kinda." I admitted, realizing that I hadn't eaten much today. I hadn't really been that hungry since I had left the bunker. I think my stomach had shrunk in size from how long I had gone without eating. But still, the doctors had said that I needed to eat more in order to make up for the weeks of near starvation.

"Alright, I'll get dinner started." He responded, beginning to head out of the room.

I looked away from him, back at the photos that were on the table. Most I had already gathered into a pile, but there was one that was of my closet door and the mirror next to it that was still set on the coffee table. My chest tightened when I looked at the closet door, knowing that even though in my real room the door opened, in my prison there had been nothing more than a brick wall behind it.

"Dad," I said, standing up from the couch and looking at him. He had paused and turned back to look at me. "Can I show you something?"

I looked down at the photo in my hand, feeling the tears build in my eyes as I stared down at the paper. He looked at me for a moment before walking back towards me.

"What is it?"

I handed him the picture, which he took and looked at carefully. He didn't understand why the picture was so important for him to see.

"My room in that place looked exactly like this." I began, needing to explain to him. Needing him to understand at least part of what I had been through down there. The bruises on my body, those I would keep as my own dark secret. But the room, that I could share. That would make him see why I was scared of my room, scared of being trapped. "Except behind the window there was a dirt wall, there was no closet behind this door. The room was locked at all times. There was no way for me to get out."

I sunk down onto the couch as a silent sob tore through my chest, the tears which had burned my eyes slipped down my cheeks. The couch shifted as he sat down next to me, and I reminded myself that I was in the living room as he pulled me back into him. My body tensed at his touch, at the sensation of hands on my back. I sobbed harder at the thought that I couldn't even take comfort from my father because of what Charles had done to me.

We stayed there on the couch, me sobbing into his chest while his tears fell down onto the back of my head. I could feel them soaking into my hair. After a few minutes, my tears ran out and I stopped shaking against his chest. We sat on the couch for a little longer, while he finished crying. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, pressing the tear-dampened hair against my head before he moved to get up.

"I'm gonna go make dinner now."

***End Chapter***