Jessie Burlingame and her husband Gerald have decided to take a trip out to the summer house in Maine for a day, maybe two. Gerald had recently taken an interest in handcuffing Jessie to the bedposts when the became intimate with each other, but Jessie has gotten sick of it. As she lies in the bed, handcuffed yet again, she tries to convince Gerald to have sex the old way, but Gerald thinks she’s just playing into his game making him even more hornier than he was before. Fed up with it, Jessie kicks him with both feet causing Gerald to have a heart attack and die on the spot. Now she is alone and handcuffed in her bed, making it her own prison, with no way to the keys which lie on the dresser ten feet away. With the help of the voices in her head she tries to come up with ways to escape and in order to do this she must face a past she hadn’t bothered to out of fear.
I rate this book, on a scale of 1-10, a 3/10. Although King goes through the book with intense description, he has to since 90% of the book is her on the bed, it is easily the worst book I’ve read. I feel that if it was any other author, other than King, this book wouldn’t have been used for more than toilet paper.
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