Page 185 of The Professor's Wife

And I shouldn’t have fucked up. Shouldn’t have eavesdropped and said what I did. I didn’t know what came over me. It wasn’t jealousy at the thought of him fucking his student, was it? Had I felt possessive of him, too? Was he mine even though I hated him? Did I truly hate him? Oh, my God, I didn’t understand myself. Nothing was simple with Oliver. Nothing felt linear. If he’d been abusive all the fucking time, I wouldn’t be so much of the conditioned headcase that I’d become.

I blinked at the darkness as time slipped by. As the knocks stopped sounding. As Louise must have given up. God, I hoped she didn’t leave the groceries behind, but he wouldn’t pack it away. He would let it go to waste, wouldn’t he? If he unpacked and discovered the “distilled water” which was the brown bag with Louise’s birth pills, all hell would break loose in an irreversible way. The thought should have frightened me. I’d had them ever since Louise was hired and in the last couple years disclosed that she’d been trying for a baby with her husband. When she asked whether I was ready again, I told her that while I wasn’t just yet, Oliver was. He’d waited until he’d released another book, did another tour, watched me relentlessly to see if I truly was his perfect student, before he declaredhewas ready. As if that was some grand fucking present to me. Anyway, it was the only time Louise had ever said anything bad about Oliver. “Don’t tell him you’re on birth control then.”

“He’ll know because he always checks my health records. You know, to make sure I’m alright and still seeing my therapist.”

“Then have mine. I don’t need them.”

I accepted straight away.

The conversation was dangerous to have. Oliver had been at the house, and when I had taken a long time out-front talking to her, he’d showed up, silently fuming and wondering what was being said. He’d promptly replaced the cameras with a better audio feature. It was worth it.

If he found those pills…

Yes, the thought should have made me want to wet myself at the mere chance he might find them and know I’d been lying all this time.

Professor Black hated one thing more than anything, and it was lies.

Never lie to me, he warned.

I allowed myself to consider the possibility of him finding out I’d been lying to him. My pulse didn’t jump. Not at all. Not once. In the darkness, I lay there, empty.

I thought of Rowe. No tears fell. I thought of June. No tears fell.

There was nothing left.

He stole every part of me, even my grief.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

THE ESCAPE

The noise disturbed my empty dream, but I didn’t stir. Not even when the light turned on and his hands found me. I kept my eyes closed, pretending I was still existing in that in-between I often lost myself in when he had thrown me in that cabin and solitude ate away at me. The same in-between I slipped into when he kissed me, never focused on me. Not truly. When he first kissed me all that time ago, I felt his selfishness, and I should have run the moment he pulled away.

He slipped inside me, using me like I was his favorite whore come to life to serve him. It had been like that from the very start, hadn’t it? When he first planted his cock between my lips and made me swallow him. When he stared me in the eyes as he choked me with it, until I couldn’t breathe.

I should have run the moment it ended.

Why didn’t I?

Rowe would still be alive.

He would be here.

June would be here.

Rowe would be here.

He would be here.

He would.

He truly would.

My Rowe would be here—

“I’m here now,” he murmured into my hair, gathering me into his arms. He carried me out of the dark, but even as he climbed the steps into the light, I didn’t see anything but the in-between. Darkness everywhere. Darkness in my soul. Where was the enlightenment he had assured me of? The countless lectures and life lessons and rules? No apatheia stirred inside me. Never once. Not at all. What a lie. Plato, Socrates, Wittgenstein, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche—liars. Liars. Dirty liars.

At the height of my madness, I used to feel gratitude toward his soft touches and soothing words. I used to sob into his chest and delight in his assurance that he was still here with me, that he still wanted me. No tears fell from my eyes as he reminded me of this.