Do Not Disturb

by Freida McFadden

I killed my husband.

Stay here and confess Run

When I was younger, before I met Derek, I would hear stories about women stuck in abusive relationships. I never understood why any of them stayed. I thought they were foolish or weak. It never made sense to me until it became my life.

“Nick always leaves 201 empty.” I nod. “Because of the leaky pipe, right?” “No,” she says. “Not because of that.” “Then… why?” “Because...” Greta pulls a ball of socks out of the trunk and gets back on her feet while holding onto the wall for support. “Because a couple of years ago, a woman was murdered in there.”

“I love mirrors,” Greta tells me. “Mirrors are the barrier between the conscious and unconscious mind. Everyone has an inner concept of themselves, but mirrors are reality. What you see right now—that is the truth that everyone else sees.”

“No. She doesn’t come to the motel anymore. She’s been… ill. I’ve been taking care of her.”

Mhm. She’s probably dead

I flip around the “DO NOT DISTURB” sign on my door, then I close the door and lock it.

I chew on a wedge of meat. I have no idea what animal this is, but it’s delicious. “Mmm.”

Something tells me it’s not animal meat…

Back when I was a kid, we used to have a real phone. A landline. And when you were mad at someone, you could slam it down. It’s just not the same with a cell phone.

I’m not dead. Did you think I was? That I’m some corpse my husband propped up in front of the second-floor window to frighten his guests? I’m not. I’m very much alive. And I’m afraid my husband is a murderer.

Have you ever just met somebody that you clicked with? That you felt was an extension of yourself? The missing piece.

He sounds so sure of himself. I love Nick, but I think he overextended himself with this one. But I’ll go along with it. After all, what do I have to lose?

Fortune-telling, three tickets. “Ooh, I want to get my fortune told!”

After an interminable pause, he digs into his pocket and pulls out a little orange bottle of pills. I inhale sharply. “What’s that?” “They’re antidepressants,” he says. “Dr. Heller thought they might help.”

I don’t think those are antidepressants… I also don’t think she miraculously can’t walk anymore

I only catch a few snippets. I hear him call her Christina.

Ultimately, I’m just too tired to go through with it. I’m literally too tired to kill myself.

I drop my head down against the floor and sob. I hate what my life has become. I used to have everything. A loving, faithful, sexy husband. The job of my dreams. A baby on the way. And then in three short years, I lost it all.

That psychic at the carnival was right. My husband is a murderer. And it’s all because of me.

Maybe we used up all our happiness. Maybe everybody only gets so much.

Do I still love him? Of course I do. He’s the only man I ever loved. The only man I ever will love. But he has a chance to be happy again. I don’t.

The search immediately brings up a suicide hotline. But that’s for normal people, who are just depressed. My life is actually hopeless. I would be better off dead, and I know it.

This poor girl

Chapter Thirty-Seven ROB THREE HOURS EARLIER

WHY DO WE HAVE HIS POV WTF DOES HE HAVE TO DO WITH THIS BRO NOOO

Claudia spends so much time with Quinn, but sometimes I wonder if they even like each other.

What the hell is my wife doing with a burner phone?

Bro istg if Claudia has something to do with this bs ima die I love her stfu

Well, great. Claudia is messing around with another guy.

Oh my god it’s gonna be with Quinn’s husband omfg

“Mr. Delaney, this is Officer Higgins. We found this phone number on a burner phone in the pocket of your brother-in-law, Derek Alexander.”

I KNEW IT WTF

I had it all planned out perfectly yesterday.

Bitch. Bitch. Bro. No. I refuse. This isn’t happening.

I hate my sister.

This makes absolutely fucking sense. Quinn loved Claudia and was so appreciative of her, and Claudia even spoke highly about her to herself?! Like obvi we r not meant to know but what

Can you blame me for hating her? Wouldn’t anyone?

Uh, no?

Oh. He knows about the old lady. Damn.

NOT GRETA💔💔

Epilogue QUINN TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER

What…

All because of Claudia. My sister.

Nick Baxter, testified on my behalf about the bruises on my neck. He ended up being a really good guy in the end.

Period

But now that I’m dating a police officer, I’ve learned to get over it.

Rosalie’s is busy tonight.

AWWWW ITS OPEN

Greta survived—she was home from the hospital within a week. She must have nine lives.

YAY

“I cannot really read the future. Or the past. I am just an ordinary woman.”

BITCH

“Rosalie, I want you to know that I never had children. And I always thought of you like a daughter. I wanted you to be happy.”

“Nick would have left you,” she says. “That girl, Christina… she was a vixen. She set her sights on him—she wanted him. And no offense, my dear, but you were not doing much to hold on to him. You were delivering him to her on a silver platter! She told me how she thought Nick would be better off without you.”

THE WAY MY JAW DROPPED TO THE GROUND WHAT. I HAD MY SUSPICIONS ON HER BUT I DIDNT THINK IT WOUKD ACC HAPPEN

Those Tarot cards were right all those years ago about my future. Death. Because Nick and I got married, a woman is dead. But he wasn’t the one who killed her. It was Greta.

If we have a girl, we will name her Greta.

Bro what.