Audio Read by Addy Sinclair
I wasn’t always this skinny.
I’m sure you’ll put that together, but it’s really important to me that you know that.
I don’t want to be remembered at my worst.
That’s me down there in that chair.
And this is you in my head.
Now you might be wondering– if you are in my head, how do we both have this stylish, cinematic bird’s-eye view?
Shouldn’t we be looking directly at the ground?
There’s a good answer for that, but you’re going to have to be patient.
At the moment, this is where we are– floating above it all.
Now look at me down there.
I’m exhausted.
Head hanging low.
Blonde hair, thin and dangling.
Hands cuffed tightly behind my back.
It’s not the chair itself that’s torture; it’s how long I’ve been in it.
I’m lost in another world, battling for each breath.
Whispering self-talk as I try to keep my spirits up.
“Just die already bitch. Die, and it all ends.”
A bright light turns on…
The beige jumpsuit I’m wearing is illuminated, along with my gaunt figure.
Who knows how much time I have left…
Days maybe?
I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Fuck.
Funny how at the end of your life the silliest things jump out at you.
I was never really a swearer—random bit of information, I know.
You might call me scatterbrained at the moment, but I’m doing my best.
You have no idea how difficult it is for your consciousness to experience the worst pain of your life, observe yourself, plan, listen, and give you this introduction at the same time.
In my current state it’s insanely difficult to tell thoughts from memories.
Lock in Addy.
Back to the room.
Back to the chair.
The sound of a voice floods the room from a loudspeaker.
“You are alone, Ms. Sinclair. Alone and abandoned.”
It continues.
“The moment you talk–is the moment all of this ends?”
I begin to whisper, but then I stop, shifting my ear like I hear something.
The God voice speaks again.
“I’m going to ask you again. Where is Leela?”
My head moves from side to side, and I struggle to lift it.
“What are you doing here?” I mumble.
“What was that?” the voice asks.
I try to quiet him down so I can focus.
“Shhhh…shhh…SHHH!” is the best I can do.
A large metal door opens.
Footsteps tap out on the floor, accompanied by a long, looming shadow.
Oz speaks again—this time without echo and distortion, present and immediate.
“What did you say?” Rick asks.
(That’s what we’re calling him for now)
I make a feeble attempt to force volume through my hoarse vocal chords.
“She’s trying to speak…” Rick yells back towards someone else.
“What was that? I couldn’t quite make it out.”
I ignore him.
“Because I’m a stubborn bitch…” I mumble to parties invisible.
“Oh, she’s gone man…”, he says almost to himself.
“Never going to happen.” My tone is uncompromising.
A pause. Listening.
“I’m fine with that.” I reply.
Rick looks around nervously, then starts speaking to me like a referee at a boxing match.
“Who are you talking to?”
I lift my head just long enough to squint into the light.
“Leela…” I say, barely getting the words out.
“Who?” Rick asks.
“LEELA,” I say dramatically.
Silence.
His concern is palpable, like a chill has just crept through his soul.
I start laughing, pain shooting through my body with each chuckle.
Rick yells back out of the room.
“She’s cuckoo bro…wacked out of her mind. Says she’s talking to Leela.”
Rick addresses me again.
“Ms. Sinclair…do you know where you are?”
I don’t answer him.
“Do you know your name? What is your name?”
“My name is…”
I lift my head, holding it there.
Revealing my dull green eyes, sunken into their sockets, crazed with defiance—smiling.
“Addy.”
He starts to look encouraged.
“And where is Leela?” he asks.
Tuesday is a good day to tell the truth.
“She’s here you dumbfuck…and you’re all gonna die.”
His hand pulls back and the world goes black.
***
That’s the present.
But this story doesn’t start in the present.
In fact, you won’t see me in this room again until the season is over.
So let me leave you with this before I see you on the back side.
You probably think this is an escort story.
And you think you know what that means.
Rule number one—you don’t know shit.
Because this is most definitely NOT an escort story.
It’s a story about me, Addy Sinclair.
And the woman I love.
If you’re enjoying Leela, please like, subscribe, share, or show your support by becoming a paid subscriber. New episodes drop every Saturday at 10 AM EST.
Leela follows a brilliant high-end escort in Miami who treats intimacy like art, therapy, and a little bit of trouble. It’s erotic, funny, emotional, dangerous, and not the story you think it is.
‘It’s not the chair itself that’s torture; it’s how long I’ve been in it.’ ❤️
Well..you warned me.. wild ride indeed.