Confess A Novels & Stories

I called out, hardly more than a whisper. Adrian turned to me, his eyes locking into mine, full of an immense dark concern. I sucked in a deep breath; they tumbled out from my lips like a confession. "Samuel is culpable of the state my mom is into," my voice trembled with emotion and like a whimper, I confessed. "I said to him, after my research, I found out that he has a hand in it." These words seemed to hang in the air like an accusation, an exposure, as I was waiting for Adrian's board.

I started shaking. “Please,” I whispered. “Please don’t. Not here. Not now. Don’t kill me. I beg you.” A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd. My voice rose, cracked. “I’ll confess. I’ll say everything. Just… don’t kill me.” I sank to my knees, the black velvet pooled around me like spilled ink.

this secret of mine, all my own. “He… he doesn’t know,I can’t… I can’t tell him. And now I’m stuck in this… this secret that’s only mine" Eleanor had kind eyes which softened but not judgment was made. "Then keep that a secret,you need not confess to anybody now, but you cannot hide it forever, Isabella". "You will have to confess it one day,and when the time comes,you will want somebody to be at your elbow". I nodded slowly, in the confusion of relief and horror her words had aroused. My heart was aching, and my eyes filled.

Tj repeats “Well now we confess” “That’s not how-“ Before Cole could have a valid crash out at Tj the small window seated between the booths open up and someone speaks. “Confession” a voice says from the other side, smooth and bored “State your sins” Tj doesn’t miss a beat and says “Bless me Father, for I’m about to sin” There’s a pause. Then a quiet chuckle. “Bold” the voice says “Proceed” Something clicks beneath the bench, the wooden wall behind us shifts- opening as cold air blows from the candle lit stairs going down.

Cara was silent for a moment, then she spoke, her voice cold and distant. "That's convenient for you, isn't it? It suddenly lets you off the hook for any responsibility." She mocked. My eyelids tingle with unsteady tears "I'm not trying to do that," I said. "I just have no idea on what happened, but I don't think you had anything to do with it. I know you'd never do something like that." "You don't know anything!” Cara snapped. “I did it! I fucking did it!” She confessed.

The next morning, department head Luther Kovac called Thea and me out by name. He accused us of stealing Rachel's work and announced we'd be formally disciplined. Rachel watched us with a satisfied smile. Thea gripped my hand hard. The more ridiculous Luther's accusations got, the tighter she held on. Finally, she stood. "But Micah and I made that proposal together. Rachel stole our work." Rachel's voice went cold. "Where's your proof?" Thea's shoulders dropped. She was right. We didn't have proof. Luther got bolder after that, his words sharper by the second.

"Go in search of the confessor. I want her found by all means. "No matter what, make sure she doesn't die. I want her alive". He paused and took in a deep breath. "I have so many plans in store for her". Silence. "Yes, My King" the guards bowed and left. * * Her name is Isabelle. And the story of how she became the last confessor.... The confessors were females with special powers of compulsion. They compare someone by forcing them to look into their eyes, then the power takes over. The person becomes their slaves for as long as they live and do every single thing they say. The only way to break the spell was if the confessor dies.

"This is part of your penance. To shed the layers, to reveal the truth of your desires, to be utterly vulnerable before God… and before me, His instrument. Do you truly wish for absolution, Sister Agnes? Do you truly wish to be cleansed of these 'filthy thoughts' you confessed?" His words were a silken trap, tightening around her. He was right. She had confessed. She had yearned. And now, the path to release, however terrifying, was being laid bare. Her fingers, trembling, went to the small, pearl buttons at her throat. Each one felt like a monumental effort, a betrayal of everything she had ever known. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the booth.

Edward and I used to message each other on it all the time. It happened the day we’d just finished an exam. After roughly estimating my score, I couldn’t wait to chat with him. As we talked, I got caught up in the moment and blurted out a confession. And then… I never got a reply. At first, I thought maybe something had come up, so I waited. I waited quietly, from seven in the evening until midnight. But still, nothing. I went from anxiously tossing and turning on my bed to feeling so miserable I wanted to cry.

The conference room was packed with doctors from every department, each one poised for the case review. I cleared my throat, started up the prepared PowerPoint, and began. "This case is for Jason Hamilton, male, five years old. He was first diagnosed at age three and has been on dialysis for two years now..." As I spoke, murmurs started among the crowd. I turned to the large screen behind me, realizing something was wrong. To my horror, my patient report was swapped out for a presentation called "Confession of an Affair”.