Page 53 of Wicked Sins

“Oh, don’t worry. You’re gonna love it there, Candy Cane.” He lifts his chin, his smile warming. “They’ve got horses.”

Part Two

Now

“From the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate.”~Socrates

Chapter Twenty

Candy

Icollapse onto the bottom bed with a groan. Haley clambers up the ladder and perches on the top bunk, her legs kicking out as she continues typing on her phone. Heck, for all I know, she didn’t miss a beat while she was climbing up.

“They’re grooming us for a job on a farm or something, aren’t they?” I mutter into my pillow.

“Hard work builds character,” Haley says.

“Oh my God, they’ve converted you, haven’t they? You’re part of their cult, aren’t you?”

“Pfft.” Haley puts down her phone and hangs over the side of the bed, staring at me upside down. “You’re still up for our rendezvous tonight, right?” She eyes me suspiciously. “Say it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I push onto my elbows, sinking my chin to my chest to take the tension out of my shoulders and lower back.

Water pails are damn heavy. This place’s tuition is so expensive, why in the hell can’t they afford proper plumbing? I guess turning a tap to fill up the water troughs for their free-range dairy cows isn’t back-breaking enough.

“I swear I’m gonna look like a bodybuilder in a few months,” I tell Haley as she scrambles back onto her bed to retrieve her phone.

“That’s why all the guys in this place are so ripped,” Haley says through a laugh before disappearing into our shared bathroom.

A moment later, Winona steps into our room.

“Good afternoon,” she says cheerily as her gaze sweeps over the room.

That smiling face belies the bitch beneath. She may look all sweet and shit, but if you don’t make your bed before school? Oh, sweet Jesus, you’d better be prepared for the hell she’ll rain down on you.

Apparently, she doesn’t find anything out of place. Her smile crystallizes with disappointment. “Well, time to start supper.”

I face-plant my pillow with a groan. I’m still considered fresh meat around here, so I get lopped with an unfair number of chores. Cooking, dishes, cleaning out the bathroom.

Yuck.

At least, in a normal prison, I’d be able to make toilet hooch. Here, I just have to clean up other people’s shit stains.

I shudder at the thought and drag myself up. I probably look like a zombie as I force legs numb from exertion over to the lodge’s kitchen. Eight girls live in Prairie lodge, four to a room. Winona and Patrick—please, call me Patty—are our den mom and den dad. They make sure we do our chores, finish our homework, and get to school on time.

They can also dole out punishment as they see fit. And, since they’re both trained therapists, this means we get a shit ton of time-outs and stints in dreaded solo.

More than any sane person can bear, in fact.

Don’t get me started on their therapy sessions.

Dee, one of my lodge sisters, is already in the kitchen chopping away at onions. She arrived a week before I did, and she lords that over me like it actually matters. From what Haley tells me, she was sent here because she couldn’t keep it in her pants. Not exactly a sin I’d consider worthy of this level of punishment. Then again, I’m not the daughter of a state’s official who’s running for senator this year.

“You’re late,” Dee says, sniffing loudly as she wipes the back of her hand over her cheek.

“I had water duty.” She knows how long that takes—we alternate our chores. Tonight, it’s her turn to clean the bathrooms after everyone’s done shitting, shaving, and shampooing.

Seriously,yuck.

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