Novel & Cerita 42 Negative Confessions

"The things you said to me last night... they tormented me all night. I was the one who destroyed us. I don't know how to love..." "Today, I just wanted to tell you that I know I was wrong. But the moment I saw the hunter pull the trigger, I only had one thought: I would rather die than let you get hurt again." I stood there, stunned. If this had been two hundred years ago, this belated confession would have been enough for me to offer up my soul. But now, I was no longer the appendage waiting endlessly for him to deign to look at me. My heart had been weathered by a long winter of disappointment.

Tonight the church is empty and I’m sitting in his confession booth with my heart in my throat and my underwear already wet. The wood smells like incense and furniture polish, and when he settles on his side of the screen I hear his breathing change because he knows it’s me before I say a word. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” “How long since your last confession?” His voice is tight, careful, the way you handle something that might break if you hold it wrong. I give him the easy sins first because I want him comfortable. Missed mass, took the Lord’s name in vain, never visited my grandmother enough.

The only way to break the spell was if the confessor dies. The confessors referred to themselves as "sisters" and lived together and of course, they had a leader. Isabelle's sister was their leader. King Caesar - back then, when he was still a prince - had been on a long trip with some guards. When it was nightfall, they found a place to camp, but unknown to them, it was close to the camp of the confessors. While they were asleep, the confessors attacked them and confessed him - Caesar - alongside some of his men. He was confessed by Tabitha - Isabelle's blood sister and the leader of the confessors at that time.

"You can't possibly do that. What about school?" "I don't care as long as you learn that your confessions are non-negotiable." "You're fucking crazy." I shoved his chest, but he didn't move an inch. He leaned into me. "Tell me the truth dorogoy. What are you really afraid of? Are you afraid that you don't like it or is it that you're afraid that you like it too much? That it makes you wet?" I gaped at him. "You're delusional." I tipped my chin and straightened my back. I didn't falter as I took determined steps towards his confession room.

“Astrid. Only the three of us touched those flowers! If it wasn’t you, are you saying it was me? Fine. Since you insist you’re innocent, let’s check the footage!” Tony was about to pull up the surveillance on his phone when Jane suddenly trembled. Her face pale, she grabbed his hand and broke down crying. “Mrs. Baldino, I’m the other woman, so it’s only right that you hate me. But Tony really cares about you. Please don’t argue because of me… “As for the cameras, if you say you didn’t place them, then you didn’t. I misunderstood you. I’ll apologize and make it up to you, okay?”

"This was a moment of weakness. A terrible, horrific mistake. It will never happen again. Do you hear me? Never. I will have you banned from this parish." "Go ahead. Ban me," I whispered, my voice dripping with confidence. I wrapped my free hand around the back of his neck, pulling his head down so my lips were brushing against his ear. "But every time you look at these altar steps, you're going to see me on them. And the next time you're sitting alone in your confessional... you're going to be wishing it was me on the other side of the screen." He couldn't even argue anymore because he knew I was right.

“I believed lies because I wanted certainty more than truth. I was arrogant. Blind. Foolish.” The confession scraped raw on the way out. “I want you to see it so you understand how thoroughly I was manipulated. Not to forgive me. Not to absolve me.” I reached into my hoodie pocket and pulled out the worn leather journal. It looked harmless. Small. Ordinary. Yet it had destroyed us once. I held it toward her, my hand unsteady. “This is my confession,” I said quietly. “Everything Edmund used against you. Everything I failed to question.” My voice dropped.

In that moment of vulnerability, the beautiful woman felt a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through her veins. Fear and desire intertwined in a tumultuous dance, each vying for dominance over her trembling form. Summoning her courage, she drew in a deep breath, steeling herself for the confession that lay ahead. "Father," Arabella whispered, her voice barely audible above the hushed stillness of the room. In the darkness beyond the screen, she could sense his presence. Banks. Silent witness to her innermost thoughts and desires. It was a dangerous game they played, this ritual of confession, a dance of temptation and absolution that threatened to consume them both.

Brown smirked, “Of course you’re a slut. Only a slut would agree to be locked up in a room with strange men, begging to me fucked senseless.” I felt a drool slip out of my mouth. I wiped it off and for the first time, the corners of my lips curved up. “I’m a slut.” It was a confession, one I had longed to say out loud. “Shit boys, we’ve got ourselves a real one here.” that was Green eyes. I felt cinnamon spank my ass, I gasped out. “Get on your knees, Slut” I didn’t care who the order came from, I scrambled to my knees without a second of hesitation.

"What more could there be? The bastard confessed. We also have a damning video of him.” "He confessed to us." Adrian flicked ash onto the cracked pavement. "Don't you think Lena and Ava deserve more than our word." The meaning hit me like a punch. "You want a video of him confessing. That's perfect!” Adrian smirked, crushing the cigarette under his polished shoe. "I want the world to know what he is." Nathan was right where we left him—tied to a rickety chair, one eye swollen shut, his designer shirt stained with sweat and fear. He flinched when the door screeched open.