Confess A Novels & Stories

he yells as he steps into me. I frown as I let his words sink in, “ What?” I whisper out, enough for them to hear. “ I won’t do that! I didn’t do any video so I would not do a video to confess it wasn’t real!” I yell out in mid-air. If I do that, then they will think that I put out the video in the first place which I didn’t. Hence I won’t do that!

Shit shit shit! Hell! No freaking way, no no no, just pick your things and get the fuck outta here, Melanie, how can you make this terrible mistake, my cheeks burned with embarrassment, a video of my legs spread apart fucking… sucking… gods on their freaking bar as well!! Jezzz!!!!!! I just want to die right now. I tried to compose myself to text back, “I’m so sorry, Gabriel, hmm I was supposed to send it to Dan, please, I will delete the video and don’t tell Dan I accidentally sent it to you.”

In the depths of my torment, the realization bloomed like a fragile flower – the only escape from this cycle of agony lay in my confession, a desperate gamble to end the torment and the unraveling of my resolve. As the blade poised for another excruciating incision, my voice, laden with a surrender borne from the depths of suffering, broke the tension-filled air. "Okay, I will confess," I whispered, a shattered admission that marked the end of my resistance. The pain that had once seemed insurmountable now paled in comparison to the weight of my decision, the surrender of my truth amidst a landscape of suffering.

The prosecutor played portions of the recording again. “You’ve heard Mr. Pembroke’s own words. His confession. His pride in what he did. He didn’t just admit to the crime. He bragged about it. Called it ‘solving a problem.’ Called Arthur Lockwood a ‘liability’ that needed to be ‘eliminated.’” “This isn’t a case of reasonable doubt. This is a case where the defendant recorded his own confession. Where he admitted, in detail, to conspiracy to commit murder. Where he showed no remorse, no regret, no recognition that he’d taken a human life.”

When he is gone, I sit back down and open another ledger—the one that contains my own confessions, which I've written in secret for decades. I dip my pen and begin a new entry. "Tonight I told theson the truth. May God forgive me for what comes next." The bell tolls once above me, low and mournful. It always tolls for someone.

I gulped nervously and pulled my cami down, which always managed to roll up and put my not so slim waist on full display. "You are standing two inches from me and still manage to get lost in your dream world! Wow!" Vic whistled in my face. "I was doing no such thing." I said as I went past him, glad to have some space between us. "Oh really!" Yes, really! I turned around only to notice that his eyebrow had now disappeared behind those soft curls... Don't look at those curls, goddammit! And when I feel mushy, embarrassed or nervous, I resort to the only tools in my defence, - aggression and nonchalance.

“P-Please…” I balled my fists and swallowed hard. I bore my eyes to him, lazily meeting his pleading orbs. “You have to confess everything to me, so I can finally forget my feelings.” Pain crossed his eyes. I saw how tears formed at the corner of that beautiful ocean eyes full of misery and regrets. I looked away, I can't even withstand his stares. “Tell me everything, so I can move on.” “I don't want you to move on…” his hoarse voice cracked.

"The first option is death. Quick and relatively painless. I put a bullet in your head and dump your body somewhere it will never be found. Your family will spend years wondering what happened to you. The police will investigate but they'll never find anything. You'll just be another missing person. Another unsolved case." Daniel's jaw clenched but he said nothing. "The second option," I continued, "is confession. You sit in that chair and you tell the truth about everything you've done. Every manipulation. Every betrayal. Every person you hurt or killed to build your empire. And I record all of it. Every word. Every admission of guilt. Then I release it to the press and let the world see ex

He opened his eyes slowly. “That,” he whispered, “is the voice God gave you.” She looked at him not shy now, not small. Lit from within by her own sound. “You told me to surrender,” she said. “I think I did.” He exhaled a sound that felt like confession. “You did more than surrender,” he said. “You revealed.” A dangerous word. Reveal. Reveal what she was. Reveal what he felt. The distance he had created collapsed without either of them moving.

"If you want to see him again, Damien will confess to all his crimes publicly. He will admit to everything. He will tell the world the truth about what he's done." The video ended. Lennon stared at the screen. His hands were shaking, his vision was blurry. He looked at Damien. "Did you see that?" Damien moved closer. His face was pale. "Yes." "He wants you to confess." "I know." "To everything." "I know." Lennon moved closer. "You can't do that." Damien was quiet for a moment. "I have to." "No. You don't. There has to be another way." Damien met his eyes. "This is the only way. If I confess, they'll release him."