Page 13 of Pretty Cruel Love

(I think…)

The Start of the Cabin Experiment

Rain attacks the van like it has a vendetta, hammering the roof and windows without mercy. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that only the rain has an issue with wherever we are and that thunder and lightning won’t join this fight.

I can feel the road winding upward, higher and higher into the belly of a hill, and I have the sudden urge to vomit.

I’m minutes away from begging them to stop this ride, to show a hint of humanity and let me breathe some fresh air, but then, mercifully, the van shudders to a stop.

The doors fling open, and the night scene ahead hits me like a dream.

Moonlight slips between the thick tree canopy above, painting silver stripes across a gray graveled drive.

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 bytwo fucking days,” he says coolly. “Actually, at this point, it might as well be three.”

“What’s your point, Doctor?” one of them asks.

---