The Cartel's Next Lie

Letter #11

Delia—

Here’s where it would’ve come in handy to have a sister to talk to you. I’d have told you that he’s been writing to me—Deacon, I mean.

And then I’d tell you that I slept with him.

Or fucked him. That’s probably the more accurate word, except nothing about Deacon feels simple enough for one ugly little verb.

You know him. That keeps scraping at me.

You knew his face before I did. You knew his voice. You knew the way he stands when he’s deciding whether to lie. You knew the man from my nightmares as something else.

I don’t know what to do with that either. I want to ask if he protected you.

I’m afraid of the answer. I’m more afraid that I already know it.