I was with my boyfriend when a woman came and pressed a sanitary pad into my hand. She said, “You need this.” I wasn’t on my period—I checked in the toilet. Something felt off.
When I opened the pad, in shaky red ink, were 2 words: “Help me.”
At first, I thought it was some weird prank. The woman looked to be in her early twenties, maybe a bit younger. She had sunken eyes and a quick, jittery way of glancing at my boyfriend—Mateo—like she was scared he’d see what she’d done.
I turned around to ask her what this meant, but she was gone. Just disappeared into the crowd at the outdoor market.Mateo asked what she gave me, and I just said, “Nothing, weird promo thing.” I tucked the pad into my purse and tried to keep my face neutral. But my stomach was doing flips.
Back at his apartment, I went to the bathroom, pulled the pad out again, and really studied the writing. The letters weren’t just shaky—they were frantic, like someone wrote them fast and with panic. And the “ink” didn’t quite look like ink.
I Googled what to do when someone passes you a note like that. Most results said to call the police, but what was I even reporting? A woman handed me a pad.
No name. No location. Just “help me.”
That night, I pretended to fall asleep next to Mateo, but I was wide awake, my mind racing.
He’d been acting a little off lately—more protective than usual. Not sweet protective…controlling. “Wear this, not that.” “Why are you texting so much?” Little comments.
Easy to dismiss. Until that pad. The next morning, I left early, said I had to meet a friend.
I didn’t. I went back to the market. I thought maybe the woman worked nearby or had tried to find someone safe-looking to pass her message to.
I asked a few shop owners if they’d seen a girl with short hair and a green sweatshirt—what she’d been wearing. No one had. But one older man, who sold secondhand books, said, “There’s a shelter a few blocks down.
Sometimes women in trouble go there.”
I walked to the shelter. It looked quiet, lowkey, not the kind of place you’d notice unless you were looking. I showed the pad to the woman at the front desk.
Her name tag said “Tasya.” Her eyes widened just slightly. “I recognize the handwriting,” she whispered. She disappeared into the back and came out with a young woman trailing behind her.
The same girl. She looked terrified to see me. “Don’t worry,” I said softly.
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
She looked at Tasya, who gave her a small nod. “I didn’t know what else to do,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “I saw you with him.
I thought maybe you were…like me.”
“Like you?” I asked. She nodded, eyes darting. “Stuck.”
She told me her name was Reina.
Said she met Mateo six months ago on an app. “He was charming at first,” she said. “Too charming.
Then came the rules. Then came the threats.”
I felt sick. “He told me if I left, he’d ruin me,” she continued.
“He took photos. Said no one would believe me. Said I’d be the one arrested.”
I asked her why she thought I’d believe her.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
