Page 58 of When Lies Unfold

Once I enter my bedroom and close the door behind me, I lean against it and expel a relieved breath. Slipping off my shoes, I toss my bag on the bed and head for the bathroom to shower. The instant I step toward the vanity, however, I stop dead in my tracks.

Sitting on the counter is a large bottle of castor oil—the highest quality on the market—and a container of cayenne pepper. Beside the two items is a small note.

Hesitance cloaks my movement as I pick it up.

For your wrists.

That’s it. That’s all that’s written. There’s no signature, but I know exactly who it’s from. The memory of our earlier conversation replays in my mind.

“It hurts?”

“Nothing a little castor oil and cayenne pepper won’t fix.”

I take one last look at the written words before squeezing my eyes shut and crumbling the note in my fist. I can’t afford to lower my defenses toward him.

I just can’t.

It’s what has me taking my phone into the bathroom and closing the door behind me.

Once I retrieve the small object from where it’s been safely hidden, affixed to the false bottom of a round lip balm container, a sense of comfort washes over me.

It’s been long enough. After last night, I’m taking back some of the control Santiago’s ripped away from me.

After I remove and replace the SIM card from my phone, I wait for it to reboot, my thoughts whirling as a plan forms.

Then I send off a text.

I can come to you this evening.

When those three dots begin dancing, my shoulders slump in relief.

I’ll be here.

As quickly as I did it a moment ago, I switch the SIM cards back and return the one to its hiding place.

Tonight will give me what I need. I’ll not only prove to myself that I have what it takes to evade an arrogant, domineering criminal, but I’ll be seizing the opportunity to help someone in need.

I’ll be proving that the tiniest thread of that long-lost part of me, the one that was all but eviscerated, still manages to live on.

Sabrina’s text messages tonight serve as the tiny light at the end of this nightmare of a tunnel.

Sabrina

You know you can come clean right now.

Me

About?

Sabrina

The photos of that man on the Internet—good god. He may be a criminal, but he’s a thirst trap, for sure. I don’t blame you for letting yourself be whisked away.

But in all seriousness, I worry about you, Lo.

Me

It’s not like that.

---