Confess Meme Novels & Stories

All the confessors were killed. The confessors - they were females with special powers of compulsion. They had the ability to turn a man into their slaves and do every single thing they desire. And it'd go on for as long as the confessor was alive. King Caesar was a victim of this. He was a slave to one of the confessors and worshipped her. All he could think of, day and night, was pleasing his mistress. The confessor was not all that nice, as she made him kill his parents.

"This proves she forced you..." "It's not enough," I interrupted, dull with exhaustion. "The confession video is already out there. Thousands of people watched me say those words. And this?" I gestured at the laptop. "This is just audio. Video is more watchable. More trusted. People will say the audio could be edited, taken out of context, faked." Theo was already uploading the files to I*******m, posting them as audio clips with captions explaining what had happened. I could see his carefully crafted words appearing on the screen:

No one was supposed to know about it except my bodyguards, but I bet they would never ever talk about it to anyone. I shook my head and realized I was only telling Sasha and Aaron about a secret in my mind. Aaron stood up but remained standing near the couch. He put his hands in his pocket and knitted his brows like he was thinking hard about my situation. Then, he squinted at me. “There’s something you’re not telling us, Adam. We can’t help you if you don’t come clean. Jessamine is a forgiving woman,” he said, eyeing me suspiciously. “There’s more about you being honest with her. Did Neomi -”

What I was doing right now wasn't efficient enough. So, I found a random confession template online and sent it to all the students via Instagram. The system immediately called me out for cheating when I did that. "Ah, you don't get it." I waved my hand in dismissal. "Confession is about sincerity, not form." … The counselor called me into his office the very next day. "Explain yourself." He pushed his phone toward me, his face stone cold. I looked at it and was amazed by how many complaints there were about me.

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“Sorry, Father Pow . . . I mean Kit, I’ve never been on first name terms with a vicar before. I keep forgetting.” “I’ll wager you’ve not been on any kind of terms with a vicar before, eh, lad?” “No,” said Jim, and they both chuckled. “I didn’t realise I looked down, I’ve just been brooding a bit I guess.” “You’re being pursued by demons of your own making, lad, that’s what it is. You need to unburden yourself, you’ll feel a lot better for it.” “Wait, are you telling me confession is good for the soul? Isn’t that what the other lot say?”

I commented. The confession post was actually my handiwork, just like the viral post about Veronica's background. This time, the circulating post exposed Yasmin's life at the hands of Veronica. Of course, I didn't mention any names, but since my posts had gone viral, it was impossible that they hadn't reached Veronica. I was sure she was growing increasingly nervous, confused, and scared as her wicked deeds were gradually being unveiled, even though I never mentioned her name.

Before that, there were interesting things shown from the in focus screen. The cunning recording of the target, it turns out, has succeeded in fooling several business people who have been working with him for a long time. All business people couldn't believe what they saw, even those who had been working together for a long time—very sorry. "Your hypocrisy ends here," chided Zavin, none other than Kean's temporary boss. Rivan's face was very red, bearing both shame and anger. "It's just a fabrication! Listen, it's just a fabrication—"

Nox "It's been over two weeks," I said, my arms crossed over my chest as I leaned against my desk and stared. "We need to tell Alex. She's going to find out sooner or later." I took a deep breath and stared down at Deloris Witt. Perhaps over the years I'd overestimated her abilities. In most things, most instances, she was unstoppable—Superwoman. If that were true, then this assignment, Chelsea Moore and Infidelity, had become her kryptonite.

She clapped her hands in joy, “Perfect!" she exclaimed, seemingly trying to impress me or her close ones. “I need to get your autograph,” she said, looking around for something for me to sign. “No need,” I said it trying to downplay it. “We’ll be family soon-” I added, which seemed to shock her. “Keeping my signature might be a bit weird." I joked, trying to lighten the mood. “But you’re my idol.” She protested, to which I replied, “I don’t even act anymore. Soon I’ll be the one asking for your signature.” She seemed taken aback by my words.