Page 38 of Pretty Cruel Love

“There’s no record of you doing a phone interview in any of my files,” he says. “Before I listen to it, is there anything I should know? Anything you said that will fuck up the work my team is doing for you?”

“I don’t seeanythingthat your team is doing for me,” I mutter.

“Take that back.”

“No.”

“Miss Pretty.” His voice tightens. “I understand that you’re prone to say things you don’t mean, given your mental state, so if you could keep in mind that we’re not alone…”

He glances at the left wall just as one of the roaming cameras detaches from its base for its daily stroll.

“I appreciate everything your team is doing for me,” I say, forcing the words. “And I can assure you that there’s nothing new in that podcast. My story has always been the same.”

“Yes—the same, and quite unbelievable.”

“You don’t believe me?” I ask.

“That’s the problem,” he says, sighing. “I believe you one-hundred percent. But some of the people we could talk to about this aren’t alive anymore and unless Shadow Man has a phone number or an address?—”

“He left something at the crime scene.”

“Too bad it wasn’t his DNA.”

“It was a memento, a thank you to our love.”

“So, now youknewShadow Man—a person who literally just came out of nowhere long after you were sentenced, and you were in love with him?”

“I know I sound crazy…”

“Crazy doesn’t even begin to describe you…” He lets out an exasperated sigh, and then he pulls out a bottle of pink pills.

Handing them to me, he motions for me to take them and watches them slide down my throat.

“So…” he says. “I’m going to do you a favor and file this conversation under a side effect for the new drugs you’re taking, but for the record, being in love makes you go to prison?”

“Ours did.”

“Sadie, I’m really trying to…” He holds back a sigh. “If what you’re saying is true—your love seems one-sided. Cruel, honestly.”

“It is pretty cruel…” I avert my gaze, feeling helpless all over again. “Can you go back to avoiding me on the porch now?”

“Gladly.”

17

DR. WEISS

Night Nine

Cold streams attack my chest as I stand under the shower.

I can’t sleep—not with Sadie so close. And I know from glancing at the monitor that she’s not sleeping either. The way her hands slide under the sheets, the way she bites her bottom lip, eyes half-lidded in the low light…

Fuck.

When I’m practically frozen, I dry off and throw on a pair of sweatpants. I flip off the monitor and try to focus on tomorrow’s session notes.

Well—scripts.

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