Confession Novels & Stories

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.

She had never, in sixteen years of writing other people's confessions for them, written one of her own, and she discovered, at four in the morning, alone at a desk she almost never used, that the muscles for it did not exist yet, that she was building them from nothing, one true sentence at a time, the way a person learns to walk again after an injury has taken the walking away. She wrote for two hours. She did not stop to edit. She let it come out ugly and repetitive and sometimes contradictory, because that was, she understood now, the actual difference between a confession and a strategy: a strategy could not afford to be any

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.

Is the fact that I let what my father had spent years building crumble down within mere seconds. However, despite the torment. I stick to what I believe. Which is not being a slave to my own emotions. And with that very thought in mind. I could feel my confidence increase tremendously. Not that I never had any to begin with. As I always knew, I possessed the confidence people have been searching their entire life.

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.

COULD HE? I felt the anger of him invading my privacy. Him thinking he has the right, he is worthy enough to know this thing. He didn't even hesitate to ask me or confess that he knew it. I was up for some games but this shit is making my stomach sick. I felt my judgement clouding and anger took over me. I was trying to hold back but I couldn't. This was the only thing I wasn't confident to reveal. It was the thing that BROKE me. "What do you know, Mr Valentine?" I put on a fake smile.

I’ll show her! “Are you even listening to us!?! What if you got some girl pregnant at your age? We won’t raise a baby for you! If you can put your dick in a girl then you must be an adult. And adults raise their own babies!” Mom is basically screaming at this point. “Mom! Really think I’m that stupid?” “STDs don’t just wash of son! What if you get to drunk and forget to use a condom? Then you are FUCKED!” “I’m careful and I don’t get that drunk.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Neisha.” She raised her head then, meeting his gaze with a hollow-eyed stare. “I can’t keep it inside anymore. I’m not Catholic or anything, and I don’t know if confession is indeed good for the soul, but it certainly can’t be any worse than living with the secrets eating me from the inside out.”

"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.

Kahit pa parang weird, hindi niya mapigilang sumang-ayon sa lalaki kaya hindi na siya nakaimik pa. Tinapik ni Lucas ang balikat niya. "The 'con' from 'con man' means confidence. Sa trabahong 'to, iyon ang puhunan natin. Fake it 'til you make it, ika nga. Lying is the name of the game, and confidence is power." Napangisi si Christelle sa paalala ng lalaki. "Naiintindihan ko. It really makes sense right now..."