The confession

in Freewriterslast month

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I had been awake for a long time, tossing and turning in the sheets drenched in a cold sweat.

The pillow muffled my muffled cries as my conscience tortured me with darts of guilt and remorse.

I had to confess my truth, my dark secret.

But every time I tried to speak, my throat closed up, choking under the weight of my heinous crime.

Suddenly, a piercing scream tore through the silence.

My wife had discovered the mutilated corpse in the basement.

There was no turning back now.

Confession would have to flow from my lips as I surrendered to inexorable justice.