Confessions Novels & Stories

I ask him and he seems to stutter a moment, thinking of what lie he is going to spin. “My other investors are silent. They trust me to run things. Besides, everyone knows you give the pretty girls drinks to get the big spenders into a club.” “I didn’t know that.” I sip my drink through the itty bitty straw and slide a little bit away from him. He slides closer and his smell wafts over with the movement. An evil combination of cologne, marijuana, and desperation. I stuck the lime wedge in my mouth and sucked to fight the wave of nausea.

Ruth repeatedly played the recording. Each time, Esmerelda's voice filled the air again. The hospital room was eerily silent, except for the recording playing on repeat. Minutes dragged by until, all of a sudden, Ruth hurled the phone against the wall. She then turned her cold eyes on Esmerelda. "Do you have anything left to say?" Esmerelda frantically shook her head. This time, her tears were real. "Mom, I was wrong. I was joking. I didn't think Clara would take it seriously… I really didn't mean it…"

"You can't possibly do that. What about school?" "I don't care as long as you learn that your confessions are non-negotiable." "You're fucking crazy." I shoved his chest, but he didn't move an inch. He leaned into me. "Tell me the truth dorogoy. What are you really afraid of? Are you afraid that you don't like it or is it that you're afraid that you like it too much? That it makes you wet?" I gaped at him. "You're delusional." I tipped my chin and straightened my back. I didn't falter as I took determined steps towards his confession room.

Seeing the woman you've been dreaming of was being tortured by other people is so freaking painful. After I found out that Dylan isn't treating her right, I tried to steal her, but the fact that I was the one who caused her brother's accident scared me. I turned into a coward again. I let her suffer. I watched her cry, but I couldn't take it anymore, so I made my feelings clear to her. "Are you sure about your plans, Jacob? They're married. It won't be easy to take Samantha away." I nodded at Theo, determined to do what I wanted. I should've told her about my feelings a long time ago. This confession has been long overdue, so I gathered all my strength and swallowed my fear. I confessed to h

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.

she said calmly, “it will be revealed, and you will remain exiled. But if you speak the truth, the moon will reveal that as well.” I stared out at the sea and looked into the waters to see my distorted reflection. For a moment I felt fear, not fear of the truth, but fear of being judged. That maybe everything I would say was not going to be honest. But then I inhaled deeply. “I acknowledge my past,” I began, my voice steady. “I was exiled under false judgment, punished for a crime I did not commit. I stand before the sea and the moon and confess that I had no hand in the attack of Damien Blackthorne. I did not harm him. I did not conspire against him. I did not wish him death.”

I did anyway. Unknown number. No photo. No link. Just a sentence that made my skin go cold. You can’t seal a confession. My breath stopped. Then another message arrived—this one a file transfer notification from a platform I didn’t recognize, as if someone had dropped a package on the internet and addressed it to me. File available: “CONFESSION.mp4” The room blurred at the edges. I didn’t open it. I didn’t touch it. I held the phone out to counsel like it was venom.

After the first thirty minutes of forced pleasantries and blessings, I retreated into the confessional to listen to people confess to cheating on their partners and stealing from their employers. And those were the lighter sins. They all confessed the same things every week, not bothering to change and not bothering to repent. Just rinse and repeat. Sin and confess. Sin and confess. It was almost laughable if it wasn’t literal torture for me. People acted holier-than-thou in public, but in private, they carried the filthiest secrets and hatred towards one another. But of all the confessions I’d heard since arriving here, none unsettled me the way Arya’s had.

“We know, Dave. We know everything. Stop lying to yourself. Stop lying to us.” “We’ve got witnesses, evidence, alibis—everything points to you,” the tall one said. “You think you can keep denying it? This is your chance to make things right. Tell us the truth.” “I’m innocent,” I said through gritted teeth. “You’ve just made things a lot easier for us,” the tall one said. “We’ll be back.” As they left the room, I collapsed onto the table, sobbing. I’d cracked. I’d confessed. And now, there was no turning back.

How do you confess something you didn’t choose. My chest felt tight, not dramatic, just quietly suffocating. Like someone had pressed pause on my lungs. I opened my notes app because that felt safer than talking. I typed. I need to tell you something. Deleted. Please don’t be angry. Deleted. I didn’t cheat. I swear I didn’t cheat. Deleted. My fingers hovered, useless. There was no version of the truth that came out clean. There was no sentence that did not end in loss. Another message buzzed in.