Page 87 of Haven't Killed in Years
I waited and I listened. Then I heard something.
It was a wet slap coming from inside, like maybe there was a seal in there clapping for a sardine. I wanted it very much to be that. A cute little seal rescued from captivity—or not even rescued; I’d have been content with stumbling upon an underground exotic animal crime syndicate.
I reached for the knob and opened the door. The fact that it was unlocked was not a great sign. I had spooked Natalie by showing up at the motel. If she were hiding inside, she would have locked the door.
It was a studio space. One room with a bed and a couple of chairs. That’s about as much as I could take in before I saw her.
She was collapsed on the floor, curled up on her side, her hand tapping against the vinyl, smacking her own blood, which was pooling around her. Her last movements, trying desperately to get someone’s attention.
I dropped to her, not thinking clearly, and rolled her onto her back. There was so much blood, I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. I put my hand down on a few likely spots, trying to make it stop, but I only had two hands.
She let out a weak cough, choking on the blood that I had caused to pool in her mouth by rolling her over. I turned her back onto her side and the blood drained out of her throat and down the corner of her mouth.
I leaned closer to the ground, trying to look her in the eyes, eventually giving in and lying down on the floor next to her. I knew that even if I had walked into her apartment and she was dancing naked in front of a shrine to me, I still wouldn’t have been able to hurt her.
She tried to speak, but her mouth was full of blood.
Fading away, realizing speaking wasn’t an option, Natalie crawledher hand to her head. She pawed at her hair, now thick with blood, pushing it away from her face so she could see me. She grabbed at it, desperate for it to stay back.
“Oh, Natalie.” I sighed, reaching out to help her. Her hand fell and I continued to push the hair off her face. “What happened to you?” I pleaded.
Natalie didn’t try to speak anymore. All movement had stopped. She was looking at me, but her eyes were stuck now. I should have looked for her. I could have found her. I could have been in her life and had her in mine. The sight of her had completely rocked me to the core. She wasn’t the bad guy I wanted her to be.
I pulled my hand back. I wasn’t comforting her anymore; I was petting a dead body.
I climbed off the floor and washed my arms and hands in the sink, then wiped off anything I thought I’d touched.
“I’m sorry,” I said to her corpse, and then I left her there.
I wanted to know what had happened to her in all the years since I’d last seen her, but what had happened to her in the last twenty minutes was more pressing.
Up until that night, there had been only one other person who I knew was out to kill her. After seeing Natalie brutally slain like that, did I really think Elyse was capable of it? It was so eerily similar to how her family had looked after my father killed them that itwasbelievable.
She had called multiple times while I’d been dealing with Porter. What if she’d been doing what I had begged her to do—call me before she did anything toMarin? What if Elyse had followed me to that motel and when Natalie had run, she’d followed her?
Still, I was more concerned about Wesley. Whoever the hell Wesley was. This reporter who was so involved in my life story but had never introduced himself? He was either the world’s worst reporter or really fucking suspicious.
Fifty
Gwen
I jumped into my carand drove away, careful not to speed and draw any attention. When I was forced to stop at a red light, I ripped off the hooded sweatshirt, knife and all, before contorting my body over the center console to rummage around the back seat for anything I could change into. I found a light jacket and wrestled in my seat to get it on and zipped over my shirt, succeeding as the light turned green.
I drove with one eye on the road, one eye inspecting myself in the rearview, licking my thumb and trying to rub off the speckles of blood that I had missed. Content that I had put enough distance between myself and Natalie’s body, I pulled into an empty parking lot to read the rest of the journal.
It was a slow start. The first third was missing a good hook. I hadn’t been a very interesting person to stalk, not back then at least. I couldn’t tell how long she’d been watching me, but this notebook wasn’t the first volume. It got interesting once she started worryingabout the Airbnb guests. Then even more so when she started doing things to them.
I couldn’t believe she’d almost attacked Brian because she thought he had roofied me.It was just period cramps, Natalie.
I got the sense she’d been as bored with my life as I was and had been desperate for something more to happen, something to justify her dedicating her whole life to stalking me. If she had known this was how it would end for her, she would have been grateful I’d spent most nights getting takeout and sitting in my apartment.
My heart started beating faster when Wesley made his first appearance. So did hers.
A man came to my door. His name is Wesley and he’s staying in the house. He’s going to be there all summer. That’s a long time. I don’t think I want him to be there for so long. Why is he here? Why is he alone? Is he going to come to my door again? I don’t like that.
At first I couldn’t help being worried for Wesley, like he was nothing but a character in a book. Natalie had fixated on him almost immediately and I suspected he would get worse than a rotting cucumber. My instincts were spot-on.
I didn’t think I put very much in the soup, but maybe I put in too much. I think it was less than I put in Declan’s water bottle. They both threw up so much. I’ll see how Wesley is in the morning.
