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 blink, half convinced I’m hallucinating.
We’re definitely not at a prison.
We’re here…
The guards slip into puffer jackets and rain gear, and I wait for them to hand over the raincoat that’s promised in the Weiss Institute brochure. It’s a line I’ve mentally repeated during the entire ride, my final rig of hope.
Upon arrival, you will be immersed into a softer reality. As my facility is subject to wet and humid conditions, the guards at the gate will give your transport team a raincoat, boots, & umbrella to use during your stay.
“Let’s go, Pretty,” a guard commands me from behind. “Move!”
“But what about my rain gear, sir?” I ask. “Aren’t you supposed to give me—”
“Stop stalling!” The female guard pushes me forward with a grunt. “Start walking up the hill and toward the cabin before we haul your ass back where you belong.”
I immediately step forward, even though I don’t see the cabin.
We climb the hill in silence, and although my limbs ache with every step, the fresh air is enough to make me smile.
Every so often, I spot a camouflaged officer through the trees. The barrel of each rifle is pointed right at me.
Refusing to let it bother me, I keep inhaling the sweet, free air.
I don’t see “the cabin” until we’re right in front of it.
At first glance, with its black glass windows and sloped cedar walls, it resembles a quaint and cozy cottage. But as we step nearer, its true scale is made clear.
There’s a secondary structure behind the cedar frame, a modern house with stone walls. This place is a mini-mansion; the cabin was attached to its face as an afterthought.
When we finally reach the porch, the guard presses a few buttons on the keypad.
It flashes yellow, then green.
Locks twist and turn, echoing through the woods like warning, and then the door slowly opens to reveal…him.
The man who has dominated my fantasies after a mere first glance.
With a slight stubble on his jawline, Dr. Weiss’s white button-down shirt is hanging open at the top, revealing hints of a chest tattoo.
He studies me for several seconds, his lips parting slowly, but he doesn’t speak. Instead, he quickly focuses his attention on the guards.
“You’re late by two fucking days,” he says coolly. “Actually, at this point, it might as well be three.”
“What’s your point, Doctor?” one of them asks.
“That’s not how I run things here.” His eyes are cold. “I don’t appreciate you fucking with me.”
“We had other inmates to drop off,” one of them offers. “If you’re so upset, would you like us to take her back?”
Ignoring that question, he rolls his eyes and opens the door wider to let us inside.
The sudden blast of cold air hits my wet jumpsuit, making me shiver.
As if everyone else has been through this operation before, the guards move with robotic precision, guiding me to a sleek metal chair and unclasping the shackles from my ankles.
They remove the black box that guards my waist chains, but they leave the ones on my hands.
While they speak in code to each other, I look around the space in utter awe.
Glass walls wrap around the entire cabin, giving it a voyeuristic openness. Cream appliances gleam in the kitchen. Above the stove, a red neon sign reads: Welcome to the Process.
Everything looks exactly like the pictures in the brochure, minus the gray double doors in the back that read “Weiss Staff Only: Do Not Enter.”
As a guard checks the sole of my shoes, a truck roars outside and within seconds, more guards flood the cabin.
They’re sweeping every inch with scanners and wands, opening drawers, and directing dogs to check. One of the female guards blushes bright red when Dr. Weiss offers her a small smile.
Or is he smiling at me?
“Let’s do this.” She strides over to me, snapping her fingers.
“Arms up, Pretty,” she demands. “Turn around.”
I oblige, and she presses her palms on my shoulders. She takes her time patting down every inch of my body.
“Tilt your head back and open your mouth.”
I avoid Dr. Weiss’s gaze as she shines a flashlight under my tongue.
“Hair check.” She hooks a finger beneath the elastic at the base of my ponytail. Without warning, she pulls it hard until it breaks—forcing my hair to tumble over my shoulders.
Then, as if I’ve somehow hidden a weapon between getting out of the van and walking inside this house, she pats down my hair in sections.
She grabs the waistband of my uniform next, pushing my wet pants to the floor.
“Pull down your panties and bend over,” she commands. “Hold still until I tell you to cough.”
“No.” Dr. Weiss’s voice cuts across the room. “That won’t be necessary. You can stop your power play now.”
“With all due respect, she’s still state property, Dr. Weiss.” She pulls an inspection stick from her waist belt. “Part of being an inmate means full body searches whether you like it or not.”