Member-only story
FICTION — SHORT STORY
Framed
“You are hereby sentenced to death by hanging …”
The judge’s words crashed against my chest like a hammer against glass. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The courtroom blurred. I lifted my eyes to the ceiling, biting my tongue to stop the sob clawing its way out of my throat. Tears formed in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall in front of the people who had already decided I was a monster.
They chained my wrists and led me away.
But before you judge me too, dear reader… listen.
They said I killed my husband.
How could I kill the man I loved more than my own life?
It was October 3rd, 2014, around 11:00 p.m. My husband had called earlier to say he would be working late on a project. “Wait for me, babe,” he said gently. “Don’t sleep yet.” But the night grew heavy, and exhaustion wrapped around me. I must have drifted off.
I heard a sound from the kitchen.
Metal against tile. A dull scrape. A whisper of movement.
My heart began to pound; I turned on the switch, but the lights in the house were off. I reached for the kitchen knife I had used earlier to slice oranges. It was still beside my bed. My fingers trembled as I gripped it.
