Page 132

I press two fingers beneath her jaw.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

I’m not a doctor.

Maybe I’m pressing the wrong place.

I try again.

Harder.

Still nothing.

“Mrs. Steppe,” I say, louder now.

She doesn’t breathe.

The belt lies beside her. Nathaniel’s belt. I pick it up and throw it. It lands near the footboard.

The camera.

Oh God.

The camera.

I look up.

No.

No.

Her neck.

The angle.

The stillness.

The silence.

I scramble backward on my hands and knees until my back hits the bed.

I didn’t mean to.

I didn’t mean to.

The words pound through me.

I wanted her to stop.

I wanted to stop being hurt.

I didn’t want this.

I didn’t want her dead.

36

NATHANIEL