Friday Fictioneers: The Voice


Her hands hadn’t stopped shaking since she escaped. “I’m innocent,” she muttered through clattering teeth and stepped away from the broken window of the dilapidated warehouse where she’s been hiding and toward the fire she’d built.

“Tell it to someone who cares.” The voice in her head snarled. Immediately, she clapped her hands over over her ears, to shut the voice up. It started the whole thing from the day she went into her boss’s office and shot him in the head.

“It’s all your fault.” She grunted.

My fault? No one put a gun to your head.” It scoffed.

(100 words)

For Friday Fictioneers

I like my previous attempt in 2016 better, you can read it here.

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