In the dark woods of Middlebrook, Ohio a young man walked along a soggy, gravel walkway with his eyes trained to the night sky. He could just barely make it out from among the canopy, the stars sparkling like tiny eyes peering down at him. Even in the woods he felt watched. Was that how they had felt these past ten years? Every step, every word, and every thought carefully processed and catalogued? Every room wired with cameras, and every relationship meticulously planned and manipulated for the sole purpose of morbid curiosity?
After Mitchell and Ren died they'd debated calling the whole thing off. But Sarah, that pompous bitch dyke, refused.