12 – Sadie
SADIE
Night Seven
“ S crew this goddamn program and fuck you!” I throw a mug at the kitchen cabinet, watching it shatter onto the hardwood. Then I look up at one of the cameras and give it the middle finger.
Hot tears fall down my cheeks, and my brain begs me to stop while I'm ahead, but there’s no use in feeling sorry for myself at this point. I’ve messed up, and it’s only a matter of time before the guards rush in and demand I get down on the floor.
I take out a stack of plates from the pantry and slam them to the floor one by one.
As I’m picking up the tea kettle—ready to bang it against the counter—the front door swings open.
A flock of guards doesn’t rush in, though.
It’s just Dr. Weiss.
Alone.
Glaring at me, he slams the door shut so hard the entire house rattles. The kettle slips from my fingers and falls to the floor.
Livid, he strolls toward me, his shoes stepping on broken glass and plastic until he reaches the kitchen table I flipped on its side.
“Pick this shit up,” he demands with a growl. “Now.”
His tone is so harsh and heated that it leaves me no choice but to oblige. Moving next to him, I step beside him and grab the table’s legs.
“The plant, too.” He points, and I push the dirt into the pot before placing it on the table’s center.
I’m bending down to pick up a fallen bloom when he suddenly grabs the back of my ponytail and pulls me to my feet.
“You can sweep that up later,” he growls. “Clean up my kitchen next.”
He slowly releases his grip on my hair, but he remains behind me as I pick up every shattered mug, bowl, and plate.
“My favorite chair better not be broken,” he hisses against the back of my neck. “Pick it up…”
Bending at the knees, I grasp its legs and ease it back into a standing position.
When I’m standing again, he grabs my shoulders and spins me around to face him. He stares into my eyes without a word, and as the seconds pass, his cloudless irises settle the storms in mine.
Keeping his eyes on mine, he steps back and grabs a broom, then he presses it into my hand.
Not waiting for his command, I sweep up my mess under his heated watch.
When I reach the chessboard, I pick up the pieces and place everything as it was from our last game. He glances at my unmade bed, and I move to straighten the sheets and pillows.
The moment I’m finished, he pulls me against his chest.
“Do you think this is a fucking game?” he hisses. “Your freedom is hanging in the balance, and you want to throw a goddamn temper tantrum?”
“They’re never going to release me… I can feel it.”
“So you’re not willing to give my plan a try?” He looks as if I’ve wounded him, as if the roles are briefly reversed. “If you really believe you’re innocent, this behavior doesn’t make any sense, and you’re not the violent type, so why are you doing this?”
“You promised to take off the handcuffs…” I relent. “You made me get my hopes up, and then you snatched everything away.”
“I needed the last dose of your medication to settle,” he says, voice low. “There are side effects… dangerous ones.”
“Then you should’ve said that instead of acting like an asshole…”
Silence crackles between us.
I tilt my head, studying him. He's probably telling the truth. Ever since the meds changed, I’ve been pacing this place like I’m coming undone—my skin too hot, my mind too sharp. Maybe it’s not him playing games. Maybe it’s me unraveling.
His expression slowly softens, and he grabs my right hand. Holding it between us, he stares at the faint red marks on my skin and lets out a sigh.
“Grab the keys out of my pocket with your other hand,” he says.
I oblige, slipping a hand deep into his pocket, stopping when I feel something hard. I blush and let my finger travel deeper until I feel metal. Looping my finger through the ring, I slowly pull the keys out.
He gently takes them from my hands and slides the key into the lock.
After two sharp twists, the chains clatter to the floor.
“Go sit on the couch and wait for me,” he says. “We’re going to have a conversation.”
He turns away and picks up two duffel bags by the door, disappearing past his suite that I’m not allowed to see.
When he returns, he’s armed with two white jars and a roll of gauze.
He settles next to me, his leg pressing against mine. Then he carefully takes my left wrist, spreading a layer of cream across my skin.
I glance up at the wall camera in front of us, confused.
“No one is watching us right now,” he says. “Is that a problem for you?”
“No…”
“Good.” He reaches for my other wrist, gently soothing it. “As of tonight, I’ve moved in here with you, so we need to go over the rules again.”
“Sessions for you are mandatory, whether I show up or not. If I don’t, there’s a reason.” He massages my skin. “Clear?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, Dr. Weiss,” he corrects me.
“Yes, Dr. Weiss.”
“There’s an entire team of people who read all the transcripts and look for any sign of insubordination,” he says, “any tiny reason why you shouldn’t be let back into society. Don’t hand that to them on a silver platter by letting your emotions get the best of you.”
“Okay.” I suck in a deep breath as he tightens the wrap around my wrist.
“Good girl,” he says, looking deep into my eyes. “Here are the final three rules while we’re locked in this cabin…”
“One: Don’t ever lie to me. Two: If you step out of line again, I’ll take that as a sign that you don’t believe in what I’m doing, and I’ll remain on my side until your stay is finished.”
“And three?” I draw a slow, unsteady breath as he presses his thumb against my bottom lip.
“Stop tempting me to fuck you, especially when the cameras are rolling.”
“I haven’t?—”
“In the shower,” he says. “You moan my name in the shower when you’re touching yourself.”
“I didn’t realize…” I can feel all the blood rushing from my face. “I thought the cabin was soundproof.”
“From the outside.”
“I thought no one could see me.”
“They can’t, but you wanted me to, right?”
Silence.
I want to tell him he’s wrong—that I wasn’t moaning for him, but we’d both know I was lying.
He pulls his fingers off my skin one by one, as if he knows—I know, too—that if I told him I won’t say a word, he’d cross the line and fuck me in a heartbeat.
I’d happily let him.
“Glad we’re back to our scheduled program.” He stands up from the couch and holds his phone to his ear.
“Yes, Dr. Weiss?” a loud male voice says. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Sheldon. The password is—” He pauses, looking at me like he’s worried I’ll use it. “It’s the year we hosted the hummingbird study plus two hashtags plus ‘OLI’ in uppercase and ‘pc’ in lowercase. You can roll the monitors via live feed now.”
“You mean live for us, but still the delay for everyone else, or live for all?”
“The former.”
“Will do. That was quick and impressive behavioral work with Miss Pretty, sir. You know, one of the things I love about?—”
Dr. Weiss stuffs his phone into his pocket while the guy continues speaking.
He looks like he wants to say something to me, like he wants to stay here on my side a little while longer, but he shakes his head and walks away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sadie.”