Pretty Little Liars: 16 & Pregnant (Sequel)

The (Wo)man Behind the Mask

One Hour Later
Piper's Pov

My eyes burn so badly from crying that I can hardly stand to keep them open anymore. Immediately after realizing that I killed V, I ran and shut myself in my room. Even though V was a terrible person who tormented my family and I, kidnapped me, and did who knows what else to who knows how many undeserving people, she was still a person—a person who I killed.

She.

I still can't believe that this whole time, V was a girl. I've always pictured a man behind that mask, typing those sinister texts and plotting how next to further turn my life into a nightmare. But this entire time it wasn't a man at all; it was a woman. And even though it doesn't really make that much of a difference, I can't help but think that if when I had lifted the mask and was met with a mans face, I wouldn't quite feel like this. I guess it just caught me off guard; whenever I thought about who V might be, I always pictured a man, and I thought that when I did get to find out his identity it would be someone I recognized. I just wasn't expecting a woman who I've never seen in my life. What did she have against me?

I dry my eyes enough to see where I'm going to walk back down the hallway. I need to get out of here, meaning I need to find the door—or whatever we came into this bunker through. As I've already come to terms with the fact that the exit is likely in V's room, I don't spend much more time searching the rest of the houses ceiling for some sort of hatch. I already know what I have to do, I'm just not so sure I can do it.

I peer at V's body on the dining room floor from the farthest corner in the living room, and start crying once again. I can't do it, I just can't go over there.

But V must have the key to her room, and therefore, the key to the exit.

I shake my head slowly as the tears continue to fall, just the thought of having to go over to the dead body is unbearable. I can't just walk over there and start digging through her pockets, not while knowing the entire time that she's dead and it's my fault. I can't do it.

I curl into a ball in the corner of the room, crying so hard no noise comes out. Things keep happening and changing and none of it is in my control, not until now. And now that it is, I'm too scared to do anything.

"Mom...Dad," I sob "Help me." I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing my parents won't be there when I open them but silently hoping anyway. Of course, I'm still alone when I finally do open my eyes; alone with a dead body.

"What do I do?" I cry to nothing in particular, or maybe everything "I don't know what to do."

I continue doing exactly that—the not knowing what to do—curled in a ball on the floor of this underground bunker. I don't pay attention to the time passing, or even to V's dead body on the other side of the room. In fact, I spend so much time with my eyes squeezed shut pretending that I'm somewhere else that I kind of start to believe it.

I'm at home, with my Mom and Dad, with Stella and our new baby brother and sister. They've just been born, so recently that they hardly seem to realize they're out of our Mom's stomach. They're tiny; tinier than I imagined, and so fragile that I'm almost scared to hold them. I do anyway, and the nervousness is greatly overtaken by love. I don't remember what it felt like to become a big sister the first time, but I'll always remember what it felt like the second time.

Or at least, I'm sure I would, had any of it been real. And the thing is, something I imagined all in my head could be real, if I weren't trapped underground. If my baby siblings have already been born, then by now, I'd already know what it's like to love them.

"I have to do it," I find myself whispering. I open my eyes for the first time in a while, and although my vision is greatly blurred from tears, I now look at the room around me with determination. Sometimes you don't get a choice about things, and this is one of those times.

I pull the mask back over V's face so I don't have to look at it. Before I do, I find myself thinking that she's pretty, maybe not on the inside, but on the outside she is.

There are only a couple pockets I haven't already checked, and I don't waste a second digging my hands into them. They all come back empty, but I try not to let it discourage me as I try to think of other places the key might be. I check the other glove that still remains on V's hand, but it's empty as well. That's when I notice a thin necklace chain around her neck, tucked neatly into her shirt. I pull it out, and sure enough, a small key dangles in front of me. With shaky hands, I find the clasp of the necklace and undo it, freeing the key and in a way, also myself. I waste no time running down the hall to V's bedroom, and I can't help but let out a sigh of relief when the key easily slides into the handle and unlocks the door.

Her room isn't as impressive as I thought it might be. Part of me pictured a high-tech, sleek-surfaced laboratory that resembled something out of a sci-fi movie, but other than the desk topped with a couple computers and other electronic accessories, the room matches the rest of the house. I switch my focus to finding the way out of this bunker, and my heart sinks when I don't see any stairs leading up to a door like I was hoping. My eyes scan the room; if the way out isn't in here, then I've truly run out of places to look.

That's when I see it.

A small, discreet handle on the ceiling, which I quickly realize is attached to an attic-like door. The whole thing could possibly go unnoticed if you weren't looking for it, as it blends almost perfectly in with the rest of the ceiling. My heart races giddily, and I don't waste another second before pulling the desk chair over to help boost me up. It's one of those chairs with wheels, so I half expect myself to fall as I climb shakily to stand on it. This reminds me of something Stella and I would do, except our situation would be much less dire. We'd probably be trying to climb into a tree with branches too high up for us to reach from the ground, or to get something that our parents tried to hide from us. I try to pretend that I'm doing something like that right now.

I'm still too short to reach the door, even on the chair, so I drag the bed over and place the chair on top. I briefly wonder if this idea has moved past 'unsafe' and just gone straight to 'plain stupid', but I'm eager enough to get out of here that I continue what I'm doing. Initially I'm so wobbly that I can't even come close to reaching my arms up, but after a few seconds my fingers find their way to the little handle. I pull down, and as I do I lose my balance and fall backwards off the chair. A small scream escapes my lips as I brace for impact with the hard floor, but to my surprise and great relief, I land on the bed.

I don't waste a second before getting back onto the chair, this time balancing myself a little better before finally pulling the door open.

A folded staircase sits tucked against the door, and after pushing the bed out of the way, I pull them down. There, right in front of me, my freedom awaits.

I climb the steep stairs, and am met by a wooden board once at the top. I push it up, and it gives way easily, sending a stream of sunlight in. My heart races as I squint my eyes, and I push the board fully out of the way.

I'm free.

Standing on the mossy forest floor looking down into the bunker, I can hardly believe that I was here all along. From up here, it's impossible to tell that there's a whole living space just below the surface. The outside of the wooden board is covered in moss and dirt and other forest floor things, glued down meticulously yet still somehow seeming as sporadically random as the real ground.

I look around, my heart sinking as I realize that there's nothing around me except forest. No road, no path; nothing to tell me which way to walk. The orange evening sun, though beautiful and calming, is also just a reminder that it'll soon be dark.

I'm free, yet somehow I feel even more lost than before.