The Woman in the Letter

PART 56

NATALIE

I put the pieces of fried meat leftover from the fridge last night between the sandwiches. I added the remaining mayonnaise from the bottom of the glass jar and sat down in front of the computer. I wrote the name and surname of the person killed in the search box and looked at the results. I did not find any account on Facebook, Instagram, or other social networks. I took a piece of sandwich and put it in my mouth. It felt strange to me. I wanted to eat more as I ate. Every piece I ate calmed me down. I felt heavier in recent days, but it didn't matter. The rash on my forehead slowly began to itch. I knew that the cause of the redness on my face was overeating. It seemed to me that even if I wanted to, I could no longer control myself.

I looked at a short biography of Victor Atkinson in the OUR COLLECTIVE section of the clinic's official website. I did not find anything remarkable. He graduated from the Medical University, then received a master's degree and continued his education in Turkey. Then, after working as a teacher at the Medical University in Baku for several years, he worked as a doctor in state clinics. Then he opens his own dental office and so on. As a doctor who opened his clinic, I found nothing but an ordinary and uninteresting career story. There were no photos other than a few photos and certificates from seminars abroad. Then I browsed social networks. I wrote the name of that clinic. I saw pictures of a few patients, but I knew that what I was doing was nothing more than running to a place I didn't know in the middle of the desert.

Then I went back to the search site and wrote the title "Victor Atkinson's crime".

"Murder in the center of Baku"

"Doctor has been killed in the residential area"

"The dentist was killed"

I read the news by clicking on the headlines one by one. They each wrote the same and similar information.

I saw the headline, "The murdered doctor is said to be next victim of letter crimes" I put my head close to the monitor, closed my eyes, and read carefully again. Letter crimes? There were already the names of these crimes? Really?!

I went to that site and read the news. I was excited in every line. On the side of the hood was a picture of the doctor, and on the side was a picture of a corpse lying in the middle of the greenery in the street.

It is claimed that the murder that took place last night in the center of Baku is a continuation of the letter crimes that took place in recent days. According to the residents of the area, they saw a piece of bloody paper in the hands of the murdered Dentist Victor Atkinson. As the investigation continues, it is too early to say whether the allegations are true or not.

It is alleged that there were letters on three crimes committed in recent months. The reason for the crimes is the betrayal of J.T (name withheld) fiancé. T.B (name withheld), who has psychological problems, sends love letters to his fiancé on everybody he kills. "

Betrayal? I could not give any meaning to what I read. My eyes were fixed on the word of betrayal. Despite the investigation, they broadcast the news based on word of mouth. I wanted to take a deep breath and gather myself, as my sister taught me. But to no avail. The last piece was stuck in my throat. I was not hungry. But I wanted to eat more. I went down and looked at the readers' notes at the bottom of the story.

"What is his problem with other people? If your fiancé cheats on you, go and kill her."

"The greatest punishment for immorality is to forget nothing else "

"She may have married someone else. This stupid kills people "

"I saw a picture of the girl on Instagram. If you look at the girl, you can say that she was a normal girl. . But let's face it, it's impossible to trust anyone nowadays. This is the main reason why many people do not prefer to marry"

"It is not necessary to write the name conditionally. Now everyone knows who the girl and the boy are. Pictures were everywhere "

My pictures couldn't be everywhere. No no. This is not possible. Sharing my photos feels like revealing my personal life. That's why I have never posted a picture on social networks.

I logged on to Instagram. I wanted to type "#Letter Murders" into the search and click on the search icon to search for relevant shares. I wanted to scream and cry. Then I clicked on the sign. Everywhere was full of pictures of me, Paul, and even the doctor's covered body. A few years ago, I was cut apart from a photo I took at a co-worker's wedding. I clicked on the picture and looked at the bottom.

"It is said that this girl is the cause of the letter crimes"

Slowly shaking my head, "No. I'm not. I'm not the cause. "I said. I felt sorry for myself. "I'm not," I said, looking at the following.

"I can't say anything about his betrayal. But this girl is not guilty. If a sick person kills people, it is nothing to do with the girl"

"One of my acquaintances works as a courier for the company where she works. He says this girl eats the man through her eyes "

Nobody thought it could be a lie. For everyone, I have already cheated on the person I love and made him crazy. No one thought it could be a lie. Everyone had already given me the value I deserved. I could not standstill. I got up and gritted my teeth. Then I saw the same thing written under the pictures shared by the doctor's assistant who took my picture yesterday.

Betrayal, betrayal, betrayal, betrayal .....

I hit my phone to the ground. I picked up the computer monitor and slammed it down. I started screaming and screaming. When my father entered the room, he opened his hands and looked at me. He stopped for a moment as if he had seen a terrible creature. He did not know what to do. I slammed the bowl on the table with my hand. My father ran to me and grabbed my arms. Then he slowly led me to the ground. I felt my knee ligament was untied. It was getting dark. My tears blurred all around. "I ... I didn't know anything. I didn't do anything! "

My father hugged me tightly and said, "Calm down, calm down." Then he pressed my head to his chest. "Calm down," he said in a calmer tone.

As a child, I was ashamed of myself for sobbing. "I didn't do anything," I kept repeating, crying.

My father and family knew I had done nothing. But everyone else has already branded me as unfaithful, characterless, and immoral. Paul had reached his goal. He ruined my life.