Confessions Anonymous Novels & Stories

I had four days left before the poison consumed my organs entirely. All I wanted was to spend whatever time I had left with the woman I loved, but I could not reach her. The next day, I learned that Enzo Marchetti, the first love she had never forgotten, had returned from overseas. "Let's get divorced. The love of my life is back." I clutched my chest as a searing pain tore through it. "I'm at the family hospital. I've been poisoned. The doctors won't let me leave.” Her voice turned sharp and cruel. "I don't care if you're poisoned or dying. Even if you drop dead the next second, you need to come back and sign the papers." The last trace of warmth inside me went cold. I answered calmly,

He looked smaller somehow. Not physically. Just smaller. My phone vibrated again. “I’m sending something tonight,” Daniel wrote. My chest tightened. “Sending what?” I typed. There was a pause this time. Then: “Proof that we were only doing security. Nothing else.” I leaned back in the chair slowly. “You’re leaking?” I asked. Another pause. “Yes,” he replied. “Anonymous. Just enough to show we were not involved in anything illegal.” I rubbed my forehead with one hand. “That could make it worse,” I typed carefully.

I just love killing you all with so much suspense. I jolted up my chair, hid the bottle of wine and my glasses back on the shelf and I stormed out of the room. When I got to the detention room, Ann was there, with her head on the desk. “Ann Fredrick!” I called and she jolted up her feet. “Ma’am. Miss Se– Serena.” she stuttered. “What is happening?” I asked as I reached her. “Are you the Anonymous poster or not?” “I–” she blinked in both confusion and fear as she fidgeted. “I am– I am not. Oh I mean I am.”

Words like corruption and fraud crawled across the screen in bold red letters. “Oh my God,” I whispered. My hands trembled as I hugged the towel tighter around myself. My chest felt full and empty at the same time. Anger surged first, hot and sharp, followed quickly by something that felt dangerously close to relief. “They finally said it,” I breathed. “They finally said it out loud.” The reporter continued. “An anonymous source provided evidence linking senior executives to years of concealed financial misconduct. Investigations are now underway.” Anonymous. I knew exactly who that was.

Small beads of sweat, began to form across the top of my forehead as I sat silently, listening to the conversation Mrs. Mullberry was having with the unknown person on the other side of the phone. I tried not to squirm as my anxiety sky rocketed at the mention of my name, making my heart skip a few beats. A stern look took over her features as she furrowed her eyebrows. " You got to be fucking kidding me! So your telling me, he called Child Services on me and now the same social worker from before is on her way over to my house right now to pick up Jasmine..... all because he told them he was afraid I was going to attack him!" she yelled, jumping to her feet as she quickly ran over to her l

He squeezed the ballpoint pen. I watch his already pale face become white. "We have to make sure there's no breach." A hand tapped on the table. "Are you saying I'm not trustworthy??" His voice sounded pitiful, but I couldn't care less. "No, it's just security measures." I reply, this time watching him squirm in that chair. I couldn't even think of working a year with him on this anonymous feature for Close Lips. This was supposed to be an app for women to get closure and healing from men like him.

It was bold and had taunting letters which rread: "REPORT NON HUMANS FOR A CASH REWARD. ANONYMOUS." I froze. My thumb hovered over the screen. The words pulled me in like gravity, and before I knew it, I was tapping the link. The page loaded, showing a slick, professional-looking site. Pictures of strange shadows, blurred creatures, testimonials from so-called “witnesses” who claimed they had been rewarded for their bravery. “This is… unreal,” I muttered. The coincidence was almost too much. Mateo had to know about this, this must have been his angle from the start.

What kind of pack would I lead if I wore such a crime like a badge? “Father…” The name felt too small for the confession I was about to make. My brothers’ faces had shifted when I opened my mouth—they’d given me that look that means don’t, the one only family can wear. Arman’s eyes, level and unreadable; Roshan’s flat, measured caution; Shirin’s impatient flare. They begged silence, but I had already crossed the line where silence would be betrayal. I drew one last, unnecessary breath, the kind that steadies you before you step into a place you cannot step back from. The torchlight stuttered in the tent’s folds, and for a moment the world narrowed to the single point of my decision.

He willingly complies as the young man leads him to the anonymous confession enclave to await the Church Father Alcott. Some ten minutes later, the square slot behind the screen slides over. Vladimir is unable to spot the Church Father inside and nor is the Father able to see him. Inwardly, he never recalled in his memory of ever going through such an anonymous confession at his mother's Church. He was liking this anonymous confession, it was a wise tradition he thought. "Hello, my dear son. Are you ready to renew your relationship with God?" Father Alcott asks gently. "Yes." Vladimir nods solemnly.

There was no point; I won't turn back. *** The girls were still playing dress-up when I got back, so I threw myself into something else I'd been neglecting these past few weeks. ANONYMOUS is my safe space. A group of men and women who don't know each other beyond the keyboard but share basically the same drive to eliminate the dregs of society from whichever corner they're hiding out in.