Caroline sits outside her house, head in her hands, wanting to cry but she can’t. Tears ran out a long time ago.
Police lights flicker at the edges of her vision, hints of blood visible on her hands. Strange feet crunch on gravel, his body wrapped in plastic, dead.
“He’s going to kill you one day,” people told her. “If you don’t leave him.”
Now, he’s gone. Now, she’s free. It was an accident – or self defense. Definitely not murder. Definitely no crime.
She’s free. But is she, really? Traces of blood taint her hands and her soul.
This is my weekly post for Friday Fictioneers where every week we write 100 word stories. Thanks Douglas and Rochelle for the prompt. And, thanks Rochelle for all that you do to keep this tradition alive week to week.
Have a great week, free of suspicious deaths. No matter how much that person might deserve it. 😉