‘I know what you did.’
The words spring out from the page, my legs instantly weaken.
‘I want £10,000.’
I sit heavily, winded. Black dots dance before my eyes. I grip the letter so tightly my knuckles turn bone white. Shivering, despite the radiators blasting out heat, I wrap my cardigan around myself and close my eyes.
I can see the colourless clearing, smell the fern, hear the sound of the shovel penetrating the earth.
‘How can you live with yourself?’
I can’t. I stumble up wooden stairs and pull sleeping tablets from the bathroom cabinet.
I am sorry.
To find out who wrote the letter read The Secret (Part II).
Written for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 word story inspired by a photo prompt. Read the other entries here.