Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
I retreat to my bag, disarming the pistol and replacing it with the vial I carry with me to all my jobs. This is always a last resort. It’s effective, but it takes patience and time I don’t like to waste. I don’t usually know a subject well enough to wade through all the deepest caverns of their consciousness, trying to discern truth from fear, but I need to know Natalia’s every truth. I need to mindfuck her until every lie she’s ever spun unravels.
I remove the dropper and grab her by the face. She squirms in my grasp, fear swallowing the light from her eyes as I force her mouth open.
“It’s a psychedelic,” I tell her as the tincture splashes against her tongue. “You should know this about me, Natalia. I always get the answers I want, even if I have to cut them out.”
Her eyes well with tears as I force her lips closed and make her swallow. Inevitably, she does. I’m impatient, strung too tight to sit here and wait, but I have no choice. It takes time.
I take the seat opposite of her, watching her as she watches me. Minutes pass. It’s dark and silent in this part of the water. At the bottom of the lake, nobody would ever know she was here. My mind is a warzone of those images. I’m torn between killing her and kissing her one last time.
It goes on forever, an endless sea of stillness. I need a reaction from her. She’s resistant, fighting it off as she tries to hold it together. Slowly, it starts to happen. She’s sweating. Her leg starts to bounce up and down. She moves her hand in front of her face, sucking in a sharp breath.
I rise from my seat and lean over her, doing what I’ve wanted to do since she arrived. I reach for her neck scarf, and she stares up at my face as I release the knot. As the silk unravels, falling into her lap, I’m not surprised to see the scar I always suspected was there. I am surprised, however, by the anguish I feel when my fingers move over the jagged flesh.
Somebody cut her throat.
Her hands come up to mine, and when my eyes meet hers, there is a wall of raw grief behind them.
“I’m scared,” she croaks.
The tincture is bringing her fears to life, and she’s seeking reassurance from me. I swallow the discomfort in my own throat as I pull away, tapping the notepad in her lap.
“Tell me who you are.”
She takes the pen in hand, writing in jerky letters.
Natalia Cabrera is my real name. I didn’t have the resources to change it credibly. I had to bank on the fact that you wouldn’t know who I was. My son’s name was Camilo, before he changed it. I am Nino’s mother.
“No.” I glare at her. “You aren’t.”
She taps the pen against the paper in frustration, and I don’t know how this is going to work. It will take forever to get the answers I need. I’m starting to doubt this plan, wondering if I can force her to talk, even though it’s obviously painful for her. As I’m considering it, she starts to write again. I wait for her to stop, but she doesn’t. She keeps going as if she’s in a trance. Filling up pages in big block letters as she gazes into the paper like she’s reliving a memory. I don’t speak. I don’t even want to breathe. I think this could be important, but when she finally shows it to me, I don’t know if I can even stomach reading it.
I stare at her for a long moment, and she shoves the notepad at me, forcing me to acknowledge it. Slowly, my gaze dips to the words, and I find myself entrapped.
I went to college in New York City, taking classes during the day, cleaning office buildings at night. One of my regular clients was on Pearl Street. I didn’t know what kind of business it was. It was just an old building with a bunch of empty offices and only one that ever got used. The guy’s name was Nathaniel. I always suspected something wasn’t entirely right about his operation, but he paid me cash and never bothered me, even though he stayed in the office when I cleaned. Occasionally, Nathaniel would have visitors come through, and one of them was always watching me when he stopped by. He creeped me out, but I didn’t see him often enough to think it was a real concern. Then one night, Nathaniel stepped out, and the guy showed up when I was there alone. He cornered me in one of the empty offices and asked me if I was afraid of him. I told him no, but I knew he could sense I was lying. I think he enjoyed it.