Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 95(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 95(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
They called me Alice Blunderland. I’m a bit clumsy—always catching my foot on something or tripping over myself. I was never good at sports and much prefer being at home with a good book and a glass of ginger tea.
I have had desires, though. Like any teenage girl, I’ve felt that hungry itch inside that’s too deep to scratch. I tried handling it myself, but without any success. I was able to get close a couple times, but it was like something was missing.
Something real that doesn’t come from me.
“Hey!” The guard barking at me shocks me into moving my legs again. “Start walking. It’s time to meet the warden.”
“The…the…warden?” I stammer. “Why would he want to meet me?”
One of the guards clicks his teeth and winks. “Yeah, I wonder.”
I retreat into myself as I’m tugged down a labyrinth of corridors lit by flickering fluorescents that hum at a frequency that causes my skull to shake.
This is my home now. The realization nearly levels me. For the next year, this is my home.
But I’m not a bad person…am I?
Mom abandoned me, the judge called me a criminal, and Jamie instantly accused me of being the thief. Even the guards treat me like I’m no more than trash.
Don’t cry. Don’t.
A crimson door opens in front of me, and I’m hauled inside. Before I can even get my legs under me, I’m dropped to my knees. I’m trembling as I look up, and my eyes settle on a man—suited and hidden in shadow, sitting in an enormous chair, his eyes gleaming down at me from the darkness.
“Warden Rew, this is Alice Clement.” Tension hangs in the air like the threat of another year of imprisonment.
My nose itches. I raise my hand to scratch it, forgetting my wrists are cuffed together, and end up smacking myself in the face with the steel.
I cry out as the pain sizzles through me, but it’s not the pain that’s giving me the most distress; it’s the fear.
Silence.
Then a slow tapping sound from the dark. The moment stretches on like a wire being stretched to its breaking point. Then there’s a click, and a light switches on, revealing the man seated before me.
The warden.
2
ALICE
He’s brutally tall and broad-shouldered with a jaw that looks like it was printed from steel. And despite his shadow-black suit and white button-up shirt beneath, I can tell he’s one of those guys who goes to the gym every day.
He’s so handsome…
And the way he moves—it’s like he created the Earth. I can’t picture this man worrying about anything.
For the first time since my sentencing, a new sensation hits me, running down my spine to the zenith of my thighs, and something odd happens. I feel a moistness…
Oh God. Did I just pee a little?
I look down and see a damp spot forming.
Quickly, I clamp my thighs together.
“Five-oh-seven-five,” he says simply, his voice triggering my nerves and blood to blaze. My vocal chords seem to be on a delay. It takes several seconds for me to respond.
“W-what?”
“Your number,” he replies simply. “That is your name from now on.”
Reduced to a number. Like I’m not even human.
“I…okay.”
He rises swiftly from his chair, his movements tight and concise like an athlete. Towering over me, he taps a black rod against his palm. Tap, tap.
“Yes, sir,” he corrects me, his eyes narrow.
I blink quickly. My lips part. Something in me cracks.
Kneeling before him, staring up at his enormity and unmistakable display of power—that’s when I feel it. An awakening. An emergence of sensation in my most private flesh, blooming like a flower begging for sun.
This man terrifies me, but at the same time, I’m drawn to him in a way I can’t explain. Like a hole that’s found its missing peg.
“Yes, sir,” I repeat obediently.
He nods coldly. Not a hint of humanity or expression on his stern face. He might as well be a moving statue, carved from marble. Even his eyes are unblinking.
“I, Killian Rew, am the warden here at Last Rites, as well as chief correctional officer. From this moment on, you will be under my surveillance twenty-four hours a day, and you will obey my every last word. Understood?”
My breath goes cold, but the ache near my pelvis warms and rises, pooling in my belly.
What is happening to me?
Somehow, I manage to nod, and in a flash, the tip of his black rod is beneath my chin, like a snake ready to strike. It smells of leather and discipline. And I understand now; if I disobey, he will use it on me.
“You don’t nod, inmate,” he says. “What do you say?”
It takes all my willpower to find my voice. “Y-yes, sir…”
He shakes his head, disapproving. “Stop pretending you’re some innocent little girl, Alice. You are a criminal. That’s why you’re here.”
I want to protest, but what’s the point? Shouting at the judge was one thing, but I can’t raise my voice to this man. The result would be…catastrophic.