Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 47525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Harsh white headlights flash through the front windows, and then a loud series of beeps sound throughout the cabin.
“The cabin is now secure,” a robotic voice says. “Hour one begins now. Welcome to the cabin experiment, Sadie Pretty.”
I stand still for several minutes, unsure of what to do without being given a command first.
When I’m convinced no instructions are coming, I walk to the kitchen and open the microwave. Inside is a covered dinner platter, so I carry it to my room and lift the top.
It’s a stack of fluffy yellow pancakes, sliced strawberries, and an orange garnish.
The last meal I had before I was arrested…
6
SADIE
Back “then”…
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god…
My purse drops to the floor the moment I step into the living room, and time freezes.
I blink a few times, unsure if the scene ahead of me is real.
Three bloody bodies are awkwardly strewn around, and from the coppery scent hanging in the air, it’s clear there’s no life left.
They’re all dead…
Two of the men are slumped across the couch, their shirts soaked in deep, glistening red. Streaks of their blood cover the walls and carpet in violent, chaotic strokes.
It all looks intimate, intentional, and deserved…
The third man lies face down, a knife buried between his shoulder blades.
I inch toward him, holding my breath. With trembling fingers, I pull the blade from his back and set it gently on the coffee table—like I’m offering it back to the room. As if removing it will undo what I’ve walked into.
My shoes squish through blood as I step closer to the couch, toward the other two men.
I pull a blanket over them and smooth it down with care.
No one else should see them like this.
No one else should have to carry what I’ve already absorbed.
Panicking, I inhale and exhale deeply.
Repeatedly.
Then I dial 9-1-1.
“911, what’s the address of your emergency?” the operator answers right away.
“Yeah, uh—” My voice shakes. “I was… coming to meet an old classmate, and…”
“Ma’am? Ma’am, what’s happening? What’s the address of your emergency?”
“There are three men,” I say quietly. “They’re not breathing.”
“Are you able to perform CPR?”
“No.” My gaze drifts toward the kitchen. “They’ve been gone for a while.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
My eyes land on the counter. A box of my favorite pancake mix sits beside three crystal glasses, each filled with orange mimosas. Strawberries, sliced the way I like them, rest on the rim of each one.
“Miss?” the operator calls out to me. “I’m showing your location as 31290 Magnolia Estate Drive… That’s the Baylor Estate. Is that where you are?”
“Um, let me get back to you on that.” I end the call and drift into the kitchen.
It’s not like these men are waking up anytime soon.
I open the fridge and pull out eggs and milk. I whisk the batter and open all the cabinets in search of a skillet.
Turning on the stove, I pour three round and even pancakes, watching them bubble and rise.
When they’re golden, I plate them with care and sit at the bar.
I top them with strawberries and down two of the orange mimosas.
I’m halfway through my breakfast when sirens wail in the distance.
Took them long enough…
7
DR. WEISS
Day Four
Subject: Extra Cabin Time
Dr. Weiss,
Allow me to be crystal fucking clear: No matter how many people you call—or how far above my authority you try to go—extra time will not be granted to your “experiment” just because the prison transport encountered travel difficulties.
Deal with it.
—Warden Burress
I have fifty binders of research to sift through, but I haven’t cracked open the first one. No matter how many alarms or mental countdowns I set, my mind can only focus on one setting: Sadie.
Giving in to the distraction, I log into the cabin’s internal surveillance system to check on her, along with fifteen other “live viewers.”
I select “Patient Bedroom,” and the screen fills with her image.
She’s fresh out of the shower, wrapped in a white towel that clings to her curves. Her skin glows under the low lighting as she sits at the edge of her bed, legs crossed, eyes fixed on our chessboard.
Tapping her lip, she reaches for a pawn on the far left side, but then she hesitates.
She narrows her eyes at the squares, sensing what I may be planning, and then she grabs a different pawn and slides it up two spaces.
Good girl…
My fingers hover over the keyboard, but my mind is elsewhere.
I imagine dragging that towel from her body, revealing the soft flesh underneath. I’d pin her against the glass wall and press her palms to the cold pane while I moved inside her—hard and slow—until she begs to surrender.
As I’m envisioning how her lips taste, she looks up from the game.
Right at the camera. Right at me.
Her cheeks flush red as if she can see me, and her lips part like she’s about to speak.