Page 21 of Pretty Cruel Love

“Exactly.”

“I’m on your side no matter what, okay?” She stares at me for a beat longer. “Just… watch your back, Dr. Weiss. And watch her twice as hard.”

She leaves without another word, and the moment the door clicks shut, I open my laptop.

I log back into the system and sign in to steal more glimpses of Sadie.

8

SADIE

Day Five

(Well, day two for me)

In Dr. Weiss’s cabin, time passes in soft, silent strands, weaving the hours together in slow, deliberate stitches. The clocks are programmed to move only once every five minutes, stretching each moment into something longer than it should be.

At noon, after the sun has settled in the sky, the indoor lights dim down a shade with every hour that passes, without the buzzing I’ve become accustomed to. In the silence, I experience something from my past life I’ve almost forgotten—something that I clearly took for granted.

An actual dark night.

Rolling out of my bed, I head to the kitchen and open the microwave. Somehow, the staff manages to deliver my meals through the back of it without ever stepping through the front door.

Today’s offering is French toast, sliced boiled eggs, and sliced bananas. Since I’m still full from last night’s steak salad, I decideto eat it a little later and pick up where I left off yesterday from my private tour.

Tiptoeing past my side of the cabin and down a hallway, I find Dr. Weiss’s suite.

It’s tucked behind a wall of black glass, enclosed by two French doors. Made of sleek metal, they’re both painted in a soft robin’s egg blue and are wearing the same silver sign:Dr. Weiss Residence. Not for Inmates.

Walking away from them, I venture down a long, brightly lit hallway where the doors are all locked and adorned withWeiss Staff Onlyplacards.

Only one of the doors is sporting a small see-through window, and through the glass I see an oversized operating table surrounded by sleek white chairs.

I shudder at the number of restraint belts that lay across its cushion and continue wandering around my new residence.

I slip around a tight corner and find myself in front of a shiny red stop sign.

Under the thick “STOP” letters, the fine print declares,“If you can see this sign and you’re not a staff member, you’ve wandered too far. Turn around.”

A roaming camera suddenly beeps from behind me, as if it’s warning me as well, so I oblige.

I slept so well last night that I’m tempted to risk an escape on my next-to-last day, just so I never have to return to prison.

I took eight showers back-to-back, stunned that the water didn’t cut off after a few minutes—that the streams remained hot and heavy the entire time.

Experiencing a bed with silk sheets and feather-filled pillows brought tears to my eyes, and for the first time in years, I let myself to cry.

Not for long, though.

I filled my free hours by reading books, staring out the window to watch the lake water ripple, and waiting for Dr. Weiss to walk through the front door.

As I’m opening a book, the front door creaks open.

My heart skips a beat as a pair of leather shoes appear, but when the door widens, my excitement dissipates.

“Good morning, Miss Pretty.” A man in a dark brown suit steps inside, carrying white bags. “How are you today?”

“I’m fine, sir.”

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