Truth or Death
“I’ll take those,” Mary Drake says to Mona, nodding towards the two handguns she’s liberated from Toby and Lorenzo. Mona studies the situation carefully, and Mary responds by tightening her right wrist, pressing the knife into Alison’s throat hard enough that she breaks the skin, to make a drop of blood bead and roll down Ali’s throat, a bright red trail. Alison stays perfectly still, doesn’t even make a sound, but she puts a hand on Emily’s arm as she senses Emily tensing up for a struggle.
Mona puts her hands up in a gesture of surrender and tosses the weapons near Mary’s feet.
“Good girl,” Mary says, the slightest hint of a Southern accent still clinging to her tongue. “Now let’s not stand around gaping in the road all night.” She shoves Alison and Emily forward as she bends down to pick up the guns. She levels one of the weapons at Hanna, the other at Spencer. “Let’s get a move on,” she suggests pleasantly, making a sweeping motion towards the abandoned building hulking beyond the iron gates.
------
“Welcome,” Mary Drake says, sounding threatening but hospitable, she waves them inside.
The walk in together, forming a defensive clump of bodies with Alison and Aria at the center, Aria still limping and leaning heavily on Hanna’s shoulder. Spencer still seems dazed, leaving it to Mona to study their surroundings like a hawk scouting for weakness in its prey. The interior of the building is mostly in shadow, but it seems like an old industrial space with dusty machinery still lining the walls.
“Can I get anyone anything?” Mary asks, menacingly. “Iced tea? Lemonade?”
“No, thank you,” Alison manages to reply, as politely as possible.
“Suit yourself,” Mary trills. “We’re all set for a sleepover.” She hits a button and the lights go on, blinding the Liars temporarily.
Emily’s eyes adjust, and she notices a series of rooms with cots and sleeping bags, separated by transparent plastic walls. “Go to your rooms,” Jessica’s clone orders. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
The Liars exchange confused glances, but obediently follow her instructions.
“Keep your eyes open,” Mona whispers. “Anything you can use as a shield or a weapon.”
They split up into individual rooms, still visible to each other through the clear plexiglass. The doors close and lock behind them with a mechanical whir.
Emily looks around her room. The cot seems like it would only offer the flimsiest protection, and it’s bolted to the floor. She rolls out the sleeping bag and sits down, looking over at Alison in the next room.
Mary is visible out in the open area near the entrance, and she strolls casually up to a control booth, pushing another button. Small microphones are lowered from the ceiling of each room.
“Communication is so important,” Mary’s voice advises through tinny sounding speakers. “I want to make sure I can hear you begging for your lives.”
She flips a switch and a rumbling noise fills the building. Emily sees a pipe lowering itself from the ceiling in her room. A pipe that seems designed to look like the muffler of a car. A pipe sure to be able to fill her space with carbon monoxide in a matter of minutes. She forces herself to look over at the others. Spencer’s room has what looks like a gigantic bomb emerging from the floor. Aria’s has a lethal looking snake - maybe a boa constrictor - slithering around inside its own glass box. Hanna has a movable wall of metal spikes being lowered into place. Mona seems to be stuck in a room with a can of gasoline and a blowtorch, while Alison is looking uncomfortably at a chute that looks like the back of a toy dump truck, at the small pile of dirt it has already dumped onto the floor, to send the clear message of its ability to bury her alive.
“What,” Hanna says, sarcastically. “No pit of alligators?”
“I would love a bit of alligators,” Mary drawls. “But a gracious hostess sometimes has to make do on short notice.”
“Why all the mechanics?” Alison asks her. “If you want to kill us, why not just shoot us all?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Mary asks. “It’s like when you cheat on your diet. Or your husband. Go big or go home, I always say.”
“Let them go,” Alison suggests. “If it’s me you want, if this is about my mother-”
“How noble,” Mary snarks. “But they deserve everything they are going to get.” She brightens. “Now, we still have one more guest coming. She’s a little late to the party, but I have the perfect game for us to play to pass the time.”
Emily’s stomach sinks at the thought, although she notices that Spencer seems to be covertly signaling Alison about something.
“This one is a new twist on an old favorite,” Mary announces. “I call it Truth or Death.” She smiles in a manic way that twists her features, makes her look almost like The Joker.
“Why are you doing this?” Alison asks her aunt.
“No dear,” Mary chides her. “I ask the questions.” She paces back and forth from the control booth, considering. “We’ll start with Miss Hastings, I think. Truth or Death!”
“What did you do to Toby?” Spencer demands. “To turn him against us?”
“Pretty eyes?” Mary chuckles. “He volunteered! An eager recruit. A few nice words about his mommy and he was putty in my hands. Frankly, I’m surprised you never suspected him. He was inches away from you that night in the Doll House.”
“He wasn’t down there,” Spencer insists, her face a mask of pain. “He wouldn’t have let her keep us in that place.”
“He’d do all kinds of things,” Mary says, with an almost girlish giggle. “He had them fake the autopsy report on Charlotte, you know. He was first on the scene. He drugged her enough to fool the medical examiner on the scene, and then helped spirit her away. He got her into and out of the casket the same way for the funeral. I think he wanted to pin her death on one of you, get that promotion he’s always going on about.” She shrugs, unconcerned with Spencer’s tears.
“Don’t try to change the subject,” Mary admonishes. “It’s quite rude. Now. You have a choice. Truth or Death.”
“Truth,” Spencer mumbles.
Mary claps her hands with glee. “Tell us about the first time you had sex with Caleb Rivers!”
Spencer goes pale, and starts crying harder. She looks apologetically at Hanna, her face drawn and streaked with tears. “We were in Madrid,” she admits. “We got drunk and watched the sunrise. I was - I’d been lonely. I know it’s no excuse.”
“Tsk, tsk,” Mary says, shaking her head. “How many days had it been? Since he left your best friend heartbroken?”
“I’m not sure,” Spencer hedges.
Mary pushes another button, and the bomb inside Spencer’s room beeps to life, flashing a red countdown clock. “Did you not hear the name of the game?”
“Six days,” Spencer says, as quietly as she can.
“Stop this,” Hanna says, pounding her fist against the wall. “You’re not going to turn us against each other!”
“So it doesn’t bother you?” Mary asks her.
Hanna purses her lips. “It’s not great,” she admits. “But it’s water under the bridge. We’d been rocky for a long time. I wasn’t exactly holing up in a nunnery myself.”
“No,” Mary agrees. “Which brings us to your question! Why all the on and off with Miss Vanderwaal? Would you say she was your second choice? Or your third?”
Hanna’s eyes blaze with fury. She looks directly at Mona as she answers. “Mona isn’t anyone’s second choice. She’s the right choice. She always has been. I was just too scared to see it.”
“Scared?” Mary asks, her voice almost gentle. “Scared of what people might say? Your friends?”
“Scared because of what happened before,” Hanna counters. “I wanted to trust her, but I - I wasn’t sure.”
“Because of the way she stalked you,” Mary nods. “Violated every bond of friendship. Terrorized you. Destroyed every last shred of your privacy. Watched through binoculars while you and the irresistible Caleb Rivers engaged in lewd acts together.”
Hanna’s swallows hard, not wanting to give Mary the satisfaction of a flinch. “She was sick. She’s better now.”
Mary makes a tutting sound and turns a dial that moves the metal spikes a few feet forward.
“It’s still a lie,” she says. “Even if you believe it.”
Emily sees Spencer using Mary’s focus on Hanna to subtly cut the wires on the bomb with Wren’s pocket knife. She looks up at the muffler, then casually takes off one of her sneakers, peeling a sock off with one hand.
“Mona Vanderwaal,” Mary laughs. “What say you tell Hanna exactly what you were doing in Miami?”
“I was registering voters for the DNC,” Mona says smoothly. “I got a picture with Debbie Wasserman-Schultz.”
“Mmmmm,” Mary responds. “But hadn’t they been asking for volunteers to lead that project for months? And yet, the moment Hanna landed there, fresh off her break up - you rushed in to do your part for democracy?” She pushes a button and gasoline spurts from the can, soaking Mona’s shoes.
Mona stays silent. Mary pushes the button again, and a steady drip of gasoline coats the floor of the room. The look on Mona’s face is full of anguish, she’d clearly almost rather get burned to death than force the words out of her mouth. She closes her eyes.
“I guessed Hanna’s password. I read through her emails.”
Mary claps her hands with glee. “Medicated and reformed! You had her flight itinerary. Her meetings schedule. You knew she’d be in that bar trying to negotiate a celebrity spokesman for the new Men’s Line. You knew Caleb was recently history! Isn’t this fun?!”
Hanna sits down heavily on her cot.
“Hanna, I’m sorry!” Mona says, on the brink of tears. “I went down there to make sure you were okay. I didn’t plan to - to take advantage of you, I swear!”
Hanna doesn’t even look up to meet her eyes.
Alison raps on the wall to get Hanna’s attention. “This is what she wants,” Ali tells her, pointing at Mary. “People make mistakes, Hanna. It doesn’t change how you feel about each other!”
Mary Drake checks her watch. “There’s just enough time to test that little theory, Alison.”
“Why are you doing this?” Alison asks. “I never did anything to you! None of us did! We didn’t even know about you until a few days ago!”
“Fruit of the poisoned tree,” Mary mutters. “Don’t change the subject. How would you like to share a few secrets with the class? With your little love struck girlfriend?”
“It’s in poor taste to play with your guests like little cat toys,” Alison tells her. “My mother taught me better manners.”
“Your mother,” Mary says, her face redddening. “Your mother was -” She catches herself. “Oh, I see. Very good, dear. She taught you well. But how about we have you unburden yourself about how you convinced Maya St. Germain to come back to this podunk town to help you?”
Alison shakes her head, as Mary pushes a button that starts filling her room with dirt. Alison stands calmly on top of the cot. Emily watches until the dirt is deep enough that it fills in all the space on the floor, until the cot is submerged and it’s pouring up to Alison’s ankles.
“Stop it!” she cries. “Ali, for godsakes - just tell me!”
“She didn’t do it to balance her stupid karma,” Alison admits. Mary pulls a lever and leans in eagerly as the shower of dirt stops. “I blackmailed her.”
Mona is shaking her head, as if to signal for Alison to stop, but she continues grimly. She looks like she used to look in court, Emily thinks. Like she can’t actually believe what’s happening to her.
“It was over something that happened a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Let them be the judge of that,” Mary instructs.
“Fine,” Alison says. “Fine. She killed Ian Thomas.”
“What?!” Spencer and Emily say in unison.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Emily insists.
“Did they even know each other?” Spencer asks.
“Why would she kill him?” Aria wonders out loud.
Alison sighs. “The first party she went to at Noel’s cabin, things got a little wild. She made out with Jenna in front of everyone. Ian offered her money to set up girls for his N.A.T. video collection. But she didn’t need money, she needed Wilden off her back. Ian had cameras everywhere, he had dirt on almost everyone in town. He promised to help her, if she’d do a little favor for him.” Alison takes a deep breath. “He wanted her to make a video with Emily.”
Emily blinks hard. “What?”
“It was my fault,” Alison says miserably. “I gave you that snow globe to lead you to the hidden flash drive. He knew I trusted you the most. He thought if he had leverage - that you’d give him whatever he wanted to keep your secret.”
“But -” Emily sputters. “How did he even know I wanted to kiss girls? I hadn’t told anyone. Was it Jenna? Did she tell him about how hard I was staring at her on Halloween?”
“Em,” Aria says, softly. “I don’t think it was Jenna.” She shifts her eyes significantly towards Alison, who now looks like she’s preparing to face a firing squad.
“She had a webcam, she used it for her blog. She went along with it for awhile. Until she got to know you,” Alison continues, talking to Emily directly. “She backed out when she started really having feelings for you. He was desperate. The second she got out of rehab, he started contacting her again, threatening to fill her parents in on the fact that she was dealing if she didn’t help him. She drove down to talk to him, to try and calm him down, but he was like an angry bear - drunk on PBR and pain meds. He started threatening her, she pulled out a can of pepper spray, he pointed the gun at her, they struggled - long story short, he winds up with a hole in his head. Mona came along later and staged the suicide.”
“He was a sleazebag,” Mona says quietly. “I didn’t know, then, it was Maya. I thought it was Spencer. Or Hanna. I wanted to help them get away with it.”
“Still interested in riding off into the sunset with her?” Mary Drake asks Emily. “Or did happily ever after turn into happily ever over?”
Emily ignores her, focusing instead on Alison. “It was you? You told Ian?”
Alison looks at her pleadingly. “He had a video of us at the Kissing Rock. I deleted it and played it off like a joke. I told him - I told him I wasn’t like that, but you were.” Her eyes are wet and she looks like a completely different person. Like the hardness of her usual armor has burst open, revealing an unexpectedly vulnerable underbelly. Emily feels her heart twist into another knot, a new loop on top of all the old threads Alison already had bound to herself.
“Please,” Ali says. “I didn’t know what to do with the way I felt about you. I hated myself, Emily. You were the best thing in my crazy, fucked up life, and I still hated how it felt. I hated how much I needed you. I was afraid, if you found out, you’d use it against me somehow.”
“Touching, I’m sure,” Mary Drake cuts in coldly. “But a nuanced betrayal is still a betrayal, n’est pas?”
“We’re done,” Alison chokes out. “No more games.”
“Just one more,” Mary Drake says, her features looking almost reptilian as she smiles again. “Emily, dear - what if I let you go?”
“What’s the catch?” Emily asks, warily.
“Your life for Alison’s.”
“No,” Emily says immediately.
“Alison,” Mary asks. “You get the other side of the question. Would you let me kill you if I promised to let Emily go?”
“Yes,” Alison says, without hesitation.
“Any of us would make that deal,” Spencer says.
“Just for Emily?” Mary asks curiously.
“For any of us,” Hanna responds. “We’re all in, here.”
“Mmmm,” Mary muses. “Aria. You have a very bright future ahead of you. You can get your own book deal. See your name at the top of the New York Times Best Seller list. Buy a big house on the beach when you sell the movie rights.”
Aria shrinks away from her notice, as if repulsed.
“And,” Mary Drake says, “I have a bit of a soft spot for you. I always did like your uncle.” She sighs. “So. Why throw all that away?” She presses a button and the lid of the snake box opens. The snake stirs, moving his head slowly as if getting oriented. “Would you trade?” Mary asks, “your life for Mona’s?”
Aria’s gaze flies up at the unexpected question. “Mona isn’t my favorite person,” she tells Mary. “But I don’t make deals with monsters.”
Hanna breathes a sigh of relief as Aria bravely hoists herself on top of the glass box, forcing the lid to close.
“Well,” Mary says, sourly. “Isn’t that boring.”
“Looks like I got here just in time,” a voice says as the main door swings open to reveal Charlotte DiLaurentis frowning at the scene in front of her.