Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Christmas Eve
I check my sheets, but all seems dry. Maybe it was just my face then?
I head to the bathroom and take a look in the mirror.
There’s an opaque white substance across my lips, and I make a face of disgust before turning the water on to wash my face.
“Ew. What the fuck was that?” I say to myself, patting my face dry with a towel.
I stare at the image of the woman reflected before me. Eyes swollen from crying, face puffy, hair is an utter mess. I exhale, fixing my hair into a messy bun. “Today’s a new day, Ella. Get it together,” I say to myself in the mirror before turning and shutting the light off. I need coffee and stat.
I head down the stairs and into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee.
The fresh aroma of Colombian grounds fills my nostrils, and my mouth waters.
I grab a mug, the creamer, and some cold foam cream from the fridge I stored last night, and place everything onto the counter in anticipation of my caffeine fix.
A white folded piece of paper catches my eye sitting in the middle of the counter, and I freeze for a moment.
I know that wasn’t there last night. I reach out with a shaking hand and pick it up, slowly unfolding it, before four handwritten words greet me.
How did I taste?
-L
I drop the note, my body freezing up entirely.
The fuck does that mean? Who wrote this?
Was someone in my house last night? Who is L?
My eyes widen, and my mind races a million miles an hour.
Liam? What does it mean by taste? I focus on the word taste, fully believing that the longer I stare at it, the more it will make sense.
Just then, it dawns on me. OH, FUCK NO! I run upstairs, vomit roiling in my stomach, and I barely make it to the toilet before I retch into the porcelain bowl.
Once I’m certain the contents of my stomach are gone, I grab my toothpaste and saturate it with the minty gel, going to town on the inside of my mouth and around my lips and rubbing every area raw.
Then, I swish with mouthwash and repeat the steps until I no longer feel disgusting.
I bolt back downstairs and grab my phone, dialing 911.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Someone was in my cabin. They left a note on my counter, and… and… please just send someone out here. Please!” I say frantically.
“Is anyone hurt or injured?” she responds.
“Not physically, but if you count emotionally, then YES! Please just get someone out here. I feel so violated.”
“An officer is en route. I see you’re calling from 486 Pinewood Valley. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that is correct,” I sob, staring at the piece of paper on the counter. “Please,” I whisper. “Just hurry.”
It feels like forever until the red and blue lights flash through my window, but it’s only 8:15am, about forty minutes from my call.
I sat here, sitting on top of the ice chest, staring at the piece of paper like I thought it would simply disappear, and I would seem crazy.
Hard knocks on the wooden door pull my focus away, and I get up, moving to the door to open it, but not without taking a few glances back to make sure the paper is still there.
“Sheriff’s Department, open up,” an officer shouts on the other side.
I yank the door open, and two officers stand before me. Both are men, upper 50s.
“Hi, ma’am. I’m Officer Hilton, and this is my partner, Officer Jefferson. We got a call that someone might have broken into your place?”
“Uhh.. yeah, please come in,” I tell them, ushering them inside and out of the cold.
“Do you mind telling us what happened?” Officer Jefferson asks.
“So, when I woke up this morning, I had this… substance around my mouth. I didn’t think anything of it at first, but then I came downstairs to make coffee, and I noticed this piece of paper on the counter.
” I hand them the note, and they open it, reading the contents inside.
They seem a bit confused, so I elaborate.
“The substance on my mouth this morning was… white… salty…” I say hesitantly, a little uncomfortable about explaining this to two men.
Officer Jefferson’s eyebrows are furrowed until a light bulb clicks, and his eyes widen, looking directly at his partner before he leans in and whispers. Officer Hilton’s eyes widen before he clears his throat, handing me the note back.
“Did you see anyone?” Officer Hilton asks.
“Well, no. But I think it’s obvious someone was here.”
“Do you know who could have done this? Do you know who ‘L’ could be?” Officer Jefferson asks.
“Well, I just split with my ex, Liam. I caught him cheating on me with my best friend last night and packed up and came straight here. It doesn’t seem like anything he would do, but I’m not sure anymore.”
“Do you have a contact for him?” Officer Hilton asks.
“Yes, I do.” I give them the information they need as Officer Jefferson writes it down.
“We’ll follow up on this and get back with you. In the meantime, do you mind if we take a look around, do a quick search to make sure the place is clear?”
The thought honestly hadn’t occurred to me, but I appreciate their offer. “Yes, yes. Please. I would love that.”
Both officers spend the next forty-five minutes going over every square inch of this house, from every room upstairs down to the basement below, and around the outside perimeter. They don’t find anything, but they make sure to lock every door and window they come across along the way.
“The house is clear, ma’am. We’ll look into this for you and be in touch. Please give us a call if anything else happens,” Officer Jefferson says, tipping his hat.
“Thank you both so much,” I respond, closing the door behind them. I slide down against the wooden grain, hitting the floor and hanging my head in my hands.
What the fuck is happening?