Thank you Knopf and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review. IYKYK, my reviews are always honest.

WOW. After b2b 5-star reads... I stumbled upon one of the most overwritten, melodramatic books I've read this year. Yes, even more melodramatic than The Last Housewife. It was so excruciatingly painful to read each sentence that I couldn't even enjoy a good ole hate reads and kikiki with some friends. Nah. Where TF was the editor??? Within 15% I had 30+ highlights and notes. That's when you know it's bad. And just so you're not like, oh this bish is being picky AGAIN, I'm going to share (some) of them with you. You're so welcome.

I really have to ask: who is this for? Apparently this is a literary thriller, but I can't see any ride or die literary fic or thriller readers bussin down with this. And it's too detailed and slow for the popcorn thriller audience. So... prisoners with no choice?? And another thing... second person pov is a BOLD choice. You're really assuming the reader is going to resonate with what you're saying. And using second person for a victim of kidnapping... even bolder. I found this annoying AF (shocker)

IGHT, let's get into it. Here are the quotes:

And he went ahead and died, because that's what chefs do—exist in a blur of heat and chaos onl to leave you to pick up the pieces. --> She's talking about her father who owned a mom and pop version of Perkins (ghetto Cracker Barrel) in a town where possums outnumber people 5:1.

"Thank you for that." Aidan Thomas looked up as if he had just noticed my presence. I wanted to catch my words, still hanging in the air between us, and swallow them back. You learn to hate the sound of your own voice at an early age, when you're a girl.. --> WTF are you even talking about!? You're thanking an adult for fixing your dad's fridge. Stop with the woe is me crap.

It was nothing, it was everything. It was basic politeness and it was endless kindness. A halo of light landing on a hidden girl, plucking her out of the shadows, allowing her to be seen. --> He literally thanked her for a drink. Right after this, she writes:

Now I watch as Aidan Thomas is frozen mid-sip, gazing at me through his glass. I am no longer the hidden girl, waiting for men to cast a light on her. I am a woman who has just walked in a halo of her own making. --> This quite literally contradicts what you just said.

He reaches over. Something shifts. A disturbance in the world, tectonic plates bumping against each other, miles below the Hudson River. --> You can't be fking serious. The last three quotes were just from ONE page btw.

Bats zoom around in your brain. --> LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Soil swarming underneath your bare feet. --> Wut???

It's here, like it's been waiting for you. A black sky and dozens of stars. You keep marching, one step after another, as you let the sky drink you in. You and the darkness. You, the bottomless ocean, and the promise of tiny icebergs speckled around. You, black ink, brought to life by glimmers of white paint. --> She's just looking up at the sky?

To your right is another door. Blank. Bland. He takes out another key, inserts it in the lock at the center of the round doorknob, and turns it. Smooth, silent. So deadly agile, even in the dark. --> This is actually another level of closed caption ass writing with a heavy dose of melodrama.

The mattress sags like it's trying to swallow you. Like you'll keep sinking and sinking until there's nothing left, no trace of you on this earth, nothing to let people know you were ever here. --> She was literally just lying on a bed.

You bring both legs up onto the mattress, extend them, lower your torso, and let your head touch the pillow. --> I'm begging you to stop.

Enough said?