The Code on My Skin,Trapped in His Golden Cage

I was brutally attacked and suffered traumatic amnesia.

My husband and son confiscated my phone and moved me to an unfamiliar city.

Claiming they wanted to spare me the agony of remembering, they locked me in a golden cage.

They forbade me from setting foot outside, but allowed me to do whatever I wanted inside the sprawling estate.

Like solving ciphers.

I had a natural obsession with cryptography.

Two months in, I stared at the chaotic, grotesque scars on my right arm and deciphered eight words:

"Find the truth. Escape them."