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The Teacher(77)

Author:Freida McFadden

Dark red marks on her neck.

I stare at the marks for a moment. I got up close and personal with Mrs. Bennett when I was checking to see if she was alive, and I’m almost certain those marks weren’t there before. I would have for sure noticed them.

“What’s that on her neck?” I blurt out.

Nathaniel’s eyes drop as he studies the red marks. He frowns. “Christ, who knows?”

“They weren’t there before, were they?”

He snatches the sheets out of my hands and starts unfolding them. “Yes, they were.”

Were they? I chew on my lower lip, unable to tear my eyes away from those angry red marks. They almost look like they’re in the shape of…fingers.

That’s weird.

“Hey,” Nathaniel snaps at me. He’s got the sheet unfolded and lined up next to Mrs. Bennett’s body. “Are you going to help me with this or not?”

All of a sudden, my head is spinning. Are we really going to do this? Are we really going to dispose of Mrs. Bennett’s body and cover the whole thing up? It doesn’t sound like the right thing to do.

“I think,” I say softly as I get back to my feet, “that we should call the police.”

Nathaniel stands up too, following me as I scurry across the kitchen, trying to get as far from the dead body as I possibly can. I almost make it back to the living room before he reaches out and grabs my arm.

“Addie,” he says sharply.

I can’t even look at him. Why does he even want to be with me after what I’ve done? I need to turn myself in. I’ve killed two people now. I’m a hazard.

“Addie.” His voice is softer this time. “Addie, please look at me.”

Reluctantly, I turn around. Nathaniel is staring down at me, a deep groove between his eyebrows. “I’m doing this for you,” he says.

“You don’t have to.”

“Addie, you need to know…” His grip on my arm loosens. “Eve was not a well person. She was not a good person. She would have destroyed both of us before she let us be together. And she would have laughed about it.”

My lower lip trembles. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he insists. “I’m sure she provoked you into whatever you did…and now you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison for it! I can’t let that happen to you.”

There’s a lump in my throat that’s making it difficult to speak.

He reaches out and taps his finger against my chin, drawing my face up to look at him. “I would never let her hurt you. I would never let anyone hurt you, Addie. You know that, right?”

“I know,” I finally manage.

He leans in and presses his lips against mine. For the first time, I don’t feel any tingling or excitement when he kisses me. I just feel a dark, terrible sensation in the pit of my stomach.

“I won’t let them throw you in prison,” he says firmly. “We can make this go away, and then we can be together. But we have to handle this exactly right. Do you think you can do it, Addie?”

“Yes,” I croak.

“Good girl.” He traces the curve of my jaw with his fingertip. “My sweet Adeline. We are going to be so happy together. I’m so lucky to have found you.”

I nod wordlessly.

“Remember,” he says, “if and when the police come, deny everything.”

I will do everything he asks me to. And when it’s over, we can finally be together.

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Part II

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Chapter Fifty-Nine

NATE

I NEVER KILLED ANYONE BEFORE.

I never thought I would. I’m not a homicidal maniac after all, but writers feel emotions so much more strongly than the general population, so I always imagined under the right circumstances, I might have it in me. More often, writers commit violence against themselves—suicides. Ernest Hemingway shot himself, Virginia Woolf drowned herself, and David Foster Wallace hung himself, to name a few choice examples.

Interestingly, I’ve never considered suicide. Even in the moment when Eve was threatening my livelihood, the thought never crossed my mind. I have no belief in the afterlife—my feeling is that when you’re dead, you’re dead. And after death, there is nothing. Nothing but an abyss after which there is no return.

I imagine dying is like standing on the precipice of that abyss, knowing that you will fall in at any second. It is my greatest fear, after snakes.

As I squeezed the life out of my wife, I could see that fear in her eyes. I could see her standing by the abyss, terrified of dropping in.

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