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)
“What…” My brain trips over the question. A full answer teeters on the edge of my tongue—depends on the type of sex…
“Robin, that’s not appropriate,” Dr. Weiss says tightly.
“It’s off the record,” she snaps. “Fine. Ignore that. When’s the last time you touched a man?”
“Twenty minutes ago,” I murmur. “When Mr. Sheldon strapped me down.”
“Intimately, Sadie.”
“Sex isn’t allowed in prison, Robin. Try before that.”
“We’ll circle back,” she says, amused. “Eventually.”
“Stop fucking around, Robin,” Dr. Weiss growls. “Be professional.”
The lights above me dim without warning. Lower. Lower.
Then—darkness.
I can only see the soft reflection of curved glass cameras glinting overhead.
“I’m going to ask you some questions, Miss Pretty.” Dr. Weiss’s voice slips through the dark like silk. “Answer clearly. Truthfully.”
I fight the serum, but it’s too strong.
“Have you ever killed someone?”
Say no, just say no.
“Yes.”
Silence. No gasps. Just weighted, unnatural stillness.
“Did you kill Jonathan Baylor?”
“No.”
“Heath Baylor?”
“No.”
“Gregory Sorenson?”
“No.”
The pause this time is longer. Unsettling.
“So… you’ve killed someone else?” Robin’s voice slithers into my ear. Too close.
“I think we gave her too much of the third serum,” Dr. Weiss says. “Let’s wait.”
I can’t tell how long the silence lasts. The drugs turn seconds into syrup, and I’m slipping under—fast.
“Okay, Sadie,” Robin whispers. “Let’s try it differently. Why did you murder Jonathan Baylor?”
“I didn’t.”
“But you’ve murdered someone?”
“Not him,” I say. “Not his dad. Not that awful friend, either.”
Another pause.
“Jonathan deserved to die anyway,” I say. The words aren’t mine, and yet they are. “He was a bad person.”
“Sadie…” Robin’s voice softens, coaxing. “You never really knew Jonathan outside the classroom. You don’t know that.”
“Jonathan Baylor raped me,” I say. “He got away with it. He deserved to die, but I didn’t kill him.”
The collective gasp this time is audible, and it’s followed by quick murmurs and rustling.
“That’s enough,” Dr. Weiss cuts in, his voice slicing clean through the tension. “Hit the lights.”
26.5
DR. WEISS
Night Nine
A few hours later
Robin’s pacing my bedroom like she owns the place—heels clacking, arms crossed, breath short. I was hoping she’d disappear for lunch so I could finally talk to Sadie about what she revealed during the session, but no. She’s still here. Still spiraling.
“There’s no way he raped her, right?” she blurts, stopping mid-step. Her eyes are wide, voice laced with disbelief. “I mean, come on. Someone would’ve reported on that by now, right?”
“And probably sold T-shirts and matching keychains.”
“I’m being serious, Dr. Weiss.” Her tone dips low. Uncertain. “If that’s true… then her lawyer, the DA, half the media—me—we all missed it. Or worse... we buried it.”
“You can’t lie about something you didn’t know,” I say, walking to the window. The glass is cold against my knuckles. “We’ll run the test again. Properly this time. No bullshit off-the-record warm-ups.”
“Fine,” she snaps. “Then let me ask you something off the record.”
She steps beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat of her suspicion.
“Have you fucked her?”
“No.”
Her eyes narrow. “Do you want to?”
“That’s not a crime.”
“Yes or no?”
“No.”
It’s the cleanest lie I’ve told since this experiment started.
And I only say it because her presence has already ruined any chance of that happening.
In the way I wanted it to, anyway.
Robin doesn’t budge. She’s watching me too closely, looking for cracks.
“Anything else you want to dig into?” I ask. “Or is this the part where I get to ask you something?”
“I’m an open, ethical book.” Her lips twitch, daring me.
“After all the money you made off your podcast—the syndication, the licensing, the branded tote bags—did you ever think to put a single dollar on Sadie Pretty’s commissary?”
She scoffs. “Of course not. That would’ve been unethical.”
“I think it would’ve been a thank you.”
I push past her before she can reply, the space between us charged and sour.
The kitchen is a relief. For about five seconds.
I pull out a box of cookies, just to have something to do with my hands. At the chess table, Sadie lifts her gaze. Her eyes meet mine—and just like that, the air changes. She wants to talk. Wants to explain. I can see it written in every soft line of her face.
I take a step forward.
“Are there more of those in the pantry?” Sheldon’s voice cuts through, unwelcome.
Of course.
So much for “you’ll never even know we’re here.”
I turn my back on both of them and head to my side of the cabin. Cookies in hand. Words unsaid. Lust unresolved.
I slip out onto the porch and let the door click shut behind me, leaving Sadie alone—again.
27
SADIE
Day Ten
Anurse gently shakes my shoulder to wake me. I groan and squint at the wall clock.
Five a.m.
Without a word, she slides an IV needle into my arm with practiced speed.
“You’ll need to stay in bed for most of today,” she says, taping the line down tight. “Ahead of your next Truth Serum session.”
I blink up at her through my lashes. “For how long?”
“They’ll probably keep you under for ten, maybe twelve hours,” she says. “This drip’s just to keep you hydrated.”