"I told you so. I told you so. I told you so."
His voice resonated in my head. So much I hated his whining, especially when he was right.... Again.
"I told you. I told you", his nagging voice was relentless. "I told you that if we kept going, eventually, we'd get to the edge of the world. And just like I told you, there'd be a fence to stop us from falling off. I told you. I told you. I told you..."
And in that moment, I loathed him more than ever. If I could have killed him, I would have. But what chance does a six year old girl have against her eight year old brother.
Written for Friday Fictioneers photo prompt.