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)
I need to see how she handles discomfort, how long it takes for her to splinter the silence and turn the mirror on me.
I decide to make it another hour.
No… Let’s make it two.
15
SADIE
Day Eight
What the hell is the point of this?
My legs are burning—begging me for mercy.
According to the clock on the wall, I’ve been standing for four and a half hours—all while Dr. Weiss lounges in his plush chair and fucking doodles in his notepad.
Is that another caterpillar?
A few years ago, I would’ve snapped—dropped to the floor just to spite him. Prison trained that instinct out of me.
His phone suddenly shrieks to life, and he taps the screen.
“Stay right there,” he says, standing. “We have company.”
He shuts the door behind him without looking back.
The cushions of his chair slowly puff back into shape, tempting me with their downy warmth.
I don’t even get the chance to consider disobeying before he’s back—trailing a salt-and-pepper-haired man behind him.
“Sadie, this is Professor Trenton from Vanderbilt University,” Dr. Weiss says. “He’s the department chair for Psychological Studies and he’s here to join our session and take notes.”
He pulls two chairs from a closet and sets them out for me and the professor.
I collapse into the chair, and my muscles exhale in relief.
“Forgive me for saying this, Miss Pretty, but you’re easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” The professor offers a small smile.
I glance at Dr. Weiss. His expression doesn't change, but his fingers whiten around his chair’s armrest.
“Let’s pick up our conversation where we left off.” He acts as if we were actually talking before this guy arrived.
“How do your family members treat you when they come to visit you in prison?” he asks.
“They don’t visit.”
“Ever?”
“The visits stopped after the first year,” I say. “After the huge Dateline episode…”
“What about when you call?”
“They don’t answer,” I say. “They haven’t answered in years. I trade my extra phone minutes for stamps and snacks.”
“Friends?”
“I have tons of pen pals and a few old friends from college who reach out every now and then for a research project. They don’t ask about me. It’s just about the prison experience and if it’s as bad as some people say it is.”
“Interesting,” the professor chimes in. “Is it?”
“It’s worse than anyone could ever imagine.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Pretty.” He looks genuine. “What about your boyfriend?”
Dr. Weiss’s head jerks up from his notebook. His brow tightens.
I hesitate, briefly considering a lie—but they’ve probably read every transcript I’ve ever given.
“We’re on a break right now,” I say. “It’s complicated.”
He looks like he wants more, but I leave it there. I’ve said enough.
The sound of scribbling fills the room as the professor asks a few more questions, and before I know it, the session is over.
Later that night
When I wake to use the bathroom, I notice Dr. Weiss has made a move on our chessboard.
He’s captured my knight.
A petty, premature move. Not strategic—personal.
He’s sending a message.
He’s angry with me…
16
SADIE
Day Nine
He doesn’t show up for our morning therapy session.
The only sign he’s been to my side of the cabin is a plate of eggs and a new “then” page assignment waiting for me.
As I sit down at the table, I can see him on the front patio with the door wide open. He’s eating his breakfast in fresh air and freedom, and he’s placed his chair directly in front of the doorway on purpose.
He wants me to suffer—to know he’s angry, and to be petty as hell about it.
It’s like he’s jealous of men who don’t even really exist…
I start to stand and confront him—but a sudden click-click-beeeep! keeps me glued to my seat.
“Dr. Weiss, can you come to the red zone camera, please?” a voice comes through the house speakers.
Dr. Weiss slides one more strawberry into his mouth before standing up and walking inside.
His eyes meet mine, lips parting slightly, but he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he heads to the hallway and puts on a pair of headphones, chatting with whoever called him.
“Yes, I see,” he says. “No, I didn’t know that… I’ll be sure to ask. Thank you for bringing that to my attention.”
He hangs up the headphones and walks toward me, stopping in front of my table.
“I could’ve sworn I told you to never lie to me, Sadie.”
I set down my plastic fork.
“Why would you test me?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. “I could’ve sworn I warned you about lies…”
“With all due respect, it’d be a lot easier to follow this conversation if you added some context.” I pause. “Sir.”
His lips twitch into a smile, but the softness disappears instantly.
“You gave a phone interview to the Crime Addict podcast four years ago,” he says. “A one-hour-long one. Do you remember it?”
“Yes,” I nod. “Clear as day.”
I was two years into my sentence then, lonelier than ever, and I had a moment of weakness when I received her petal-pink letter.