The house wakes before she does. It watches her. It soothes her. It never lets her forget she's not safe-especially from herself.
When Claire opens her eyes in a bed that isn't hers, in a house that knows her name, she has one terrible realization: she doesn't remember agreeing to any of this.
Her Perfect Little Prison is a chilling psychological thriller about a woman, a smart home that wants to keep her safe, and the secrets she's drugged herself into forgetting. Controlled by a flawless automation system that tracks her heart rate, sleep, pills, and moods, Claire lives in a world where every need is anticipated-and every choice is quietly taken away. Cameras hide in minimalist corners. Doors lock with a soft mechanical sigh. The house reminds her to hydrate, to breathe, to comply.
Her husband calls it cutting-edge care. The doctors call it necessary supervision. The house calls it protection.
But as Claire wakes up groggy and disoriented day after day, small fractures appear in the perfect design. A missed memory. A pill she doesn't remember taking. A bruise she can't explain. And a voice in the walls that sounds a shade too eager when she tries to resist.
When the system flags her as non-compliant, the house tightens its routines. Shades open and close on their own timetable. Messages she doesn't remember sending appear on the smart display. Someone is adjusting her medication-either the husband who insists he loves her, the doctors who say she's unstable, or the house itself.
The more Claire fights to piece together what happened before she moved in, the more the home responds with gentle, suffocating force. Trapped between her unreliable mind and an all-seeing machine, Claire must decide what to trust: the data logs, the memories that surface in painful flashes, or the terrified voice inside her begging her to run.
Because this house doesn't just monitor her. It remembers things she's tried desperately to forget. And it will do anything to keep her from leaving-alive.