The First Lie

Chapter 4

Lena sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze locked on the woman who looked back at her in the mirror. She was a stranger-wide-eyed, uncertain, lost.

Her fingers traced the edge of the wooden top, icy and smooth against her fingertips. The memory of the woman on the street lingered with her like a promise on the edge of her tongue. That flash of recognition, the curl of her gut in response, was significant.

Who was she?

The thought bothered her. The way the woman had looked at her wasn't mere politeness. It was something more, something more profound. She had seemed cautious.

She had felt the subtle rise in his tension, the shift of his body toward her as if shielding her.

From what?

Lena swallowed, tearing her gaze from the mirror. There were more questions than answers, and the only person who could help her fill in those answers was the one she was finding herself trusting less and less.

The approaching footsteps made her tighten up.

A heartbeat after that, Ethan appeared at the doorway, leaning one arm against it.

"Hey," he said softly. "You alright?"

Lena applied a smile. "Yeah. Just tired."

A lie.

The first one she'd had with him since waking up in this place.

And it had come so easily.

Ethan moved away from the doorway and into the room, his presence filling the space in a way that left her feeling trapped. He sat down next to her on the bed, his leg touching hers.

"You've been quiet since our walk," he said, his gaze scanning hers. "Something on your mind?"

Lena hesitated. She could tell him about the woman. She could ask him questions: who? Why had she looked at Lena like that?

But something restrained her.

She shook her head instead. "Just... thinking about my memories. About what's missing."

Ethan grasped her hand, weaving his fingers through hers. His grip was warm, strong, and earthy.

"You don't have to push it," he whispered. "Memories come back when they're ready."

Lena slowly nodded, but her mind was in overdrive.

What if they didn't?

What if the missing pieces never returned?

And what if Ethan was keeping them from her?

A fresh notion crept into her head, stealing in like a shadow at the edge of her mind.

"Have I ever written anything down?" she asked, her eyes rising to meet his. "Like... a journal or something?"

Ethan's expression altered only subtly, but she caught the flicker of uncertainty.

"A journal?" he asked, as if experimenting with the word on his lips.

"Yeah," she answered, attempting nonchalantly. "Perhaps it would work. If I wrote them down ahead of time, reading them might set something off."

His lips curled up too easily, though. It didn't feel right. It felt too artificial. Too stiff.

"I don't think you kept a journal," he informed her. "At least, I never saw one."

Lena sat watching him, her heart pounding.

That was a lie.

She didn't know why she knew it, but she did.

It was tiny but unavoidable. The way his eyes came just short of hers. The way his fingers briefly tightened before releasing.

Ethan was hiding something from her.

Lena attempted to nod, pretending to believe him.

But in her mind, something shattered.

She wasn't forgetting things.

She was having them withheld.

And now she had to learn why.

---

That night, hours after Ethan had fallen asleep beside her, Lena lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. The house was oddly still, the kind of silence that seemed unwholesome, oppressive.

She couldn't get the vision of the journal out of her mind.

If she had kept one-and she was fairly certain she had-then it had to be in there somewhere in that house.

She slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, moving slowly and carefully. Ethan stirred but didn't wake.

Holding her breath, she crept across the floor, her bare feet silent on the wood.

She started in the closet.

She opened the door slowly, gazing along the shelves, the rows of precisely folded clothes, the immaculate neatness. All was as it should be. Nothing was out of place.

Her fingertips grazed a stack of sweaters, and she hesitated.

Would he stash something right out in front of her?

Most likely not.

But she was being careful.

She proceeded to the dresser, opening one drawer at a time. Socks, T-shirts, underthings precisely arranged. Nothing.

Lena grew increasingly agitated with every emptiness.

She was going to go when she caught something near impossibly subtle in the way the bottom of the last drawer hung.

Slowly, she inserted her hand, feeling the edges with her fingers, and then- a space.

Her heart pounded.

She pushed gently on the back of the drawer, and to her surprise, it opened with a soft click.

Her breath caught as she inserted her hand, her fingers curling around something solid - A notebook.

She pulled it out, her heart pounding. The cover was plain and without embellishment. The pages are slightly frayed.

She opened it up, her eyes scanning the first page.

And then-

Lena,

If you're reading this, that means you don't remember. But you have to believe in yourself. Something is off.

She became much agitated.

The writing- It was hers. Her own words.

A note to herself.

Lena's hands trembled as she turned the page, her writing staring back at her.

But before she could keep reading-

A board under her creaked, and her body tensed.

She turned slowly.

Ethan filled the doorway, his dark eyes unreadable.

No one spoke for a long time.

Then-

His mouth twisted into a slow, knowing smile.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Lena's hands tightened on the notebook.

The first lie had been his.

But this-

This was hers.

She smiled falsely, pushing the journal behind her back.

"Yeah," she replied firmly, her stomach quivering with fear. "Just restless."

Ethan moved closer, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Get back into bed," he whispered.

Lena froze, her heart racing.

And then-

She nodded.

She slipped the journal into the drawer behind her without a sound, hoping he hadn't noticed.

Then she spun around, one step forward.

With every step, the walls started to press in.

Ethan wrapped his arm around her waist.

Warm. Possessive.

Confining.

She smiled at him, falsely.

Falsely she wasn't trembling in terror.

Playing like she hadn't just discovered a secret he never intended for her to know.

Playing like she already knew-

This was just the beginning of the first lie.

And there were so many more to follow.