Redemption Novels & Stories

Besides, if a small tribe went around the world to catch people, they would be easily targeted and they might receive retaliation. Thomas asked, “I don’t understand. Why would someone be willing to sacrifice themselves?” Phoebe explained, “Because the legend says that the sacred fire has the ability to burn all sins. If you’re burned by the sacred fire, all your sins will be burned to ashes.” In other words, choosing to be burned by sacred fire was actually a form of self-redemption. It was a method of giving up your life as the price to destroy your sins. That was interesting.

"Because I'm dying. Because I want some form of redemption. Because carrying these secrets to my grave serves no one." "Redemption requires remorse. I don't see any." "I'm sorry for what happened to you. To Gloria. To all of them. But sorry doesn't change anything. Action does. My testimony will destroy The Covenant. That's my action." "And you get immunity." "Yes. I walk. Live my last six months in peace. Then die knowing I undid what I built." "That's not justice." "No. It's a trade. My freedom for The Covenant's destruction. The government thinks it's worth it. You disagree. But it's happening anyway."

Adam's P.O.V I’m a fucking idiot. That has to be it. Why else would I have agreed to Stephanie’s revenge plan if I weren’t one? I didn’t need this sort of distraction in my life. Especially now that I’m just barely managing to forget about Tracy. I’ll admit, the benefits of agreeing to this little contract marriage were sort of beneficial to me, they weren’t what engineered my decisions. Loneliness did.

“Driver! Let me off!” The man opened his eyes and smiled. But it wasn’t cruel. It was sad. “You’re not the villain anymore,” he said. “You’re just in the final chapter.” I jumped off the bus at the next stop and ran into the woods nearby. I hid behind trees, heart pounding in silence. Then I heard a whisper in the wind. “Redemption isn’t for the perfect. It’s for the brave.” I didn’t know if it was in my head or real.

I didn’t bring my phone and I could’ve texted someone and made it my last call, at least I won’t die without a trace and someone would know I was about to be killed by Lucas Anderson because I ruined his jacket. Help me, Lord! Forgive all my sins and let me make heaven! Forgive me for adding more salt to mom’s pasta just to get back at her for hitting my head. Forgive me for painting my dad’s phone pink, irregular pink because he complained about my result, and please forgive me for changing my grade from D to A just for five minutes of peace. “You should see your face right now,” Luke stated and I realized he had stopped in front of a store. “Where are we?” I asked.

My Mom continued as she looks at the houses in front of us. “There was a time when being the Chosen One was an honor. Like an invisible badge that you wear where people who see you would pay their respect to you. But lately, being a Chosen One meant a threat. Because of those people who have ill intentions that were products of greed.” “Before you were born, our people, not only the ones here in Purpura, are being hunted because of the power they wield. Some become slaves, while the others become an object of an experiment,” my mom said as she gave me a sad smile, “Drake’s father isn’t like that, but his grandfather is. I was glad that Drake’s father changed all that he created Purpura as a

‘I just don’t want to have to see that sick shit again. Even though I killed quite a few people, there was never a time I thought of eating them. Just remembering that left me sick and with the heebie jeebies. ‘But it could help.’ Anna reminds me. ‘And aren’t we trying to show them that we aren’t the enemy?’ ‘No amount of showing will prove that.’ I sigh, leaning forward against the banister in front of me and lifting my gaze to the city beyond again. ‘After everything we’ve done, there is no redemption.’

"Purpose." I frown. "That's not the same thing." "No," she agrees. "It's better." I look at her. "How?" "Redemption is about the past." She brushes snow off her gloves absently. "Purpose is about what you do next." I don't answer, because I don't trust myself with anything next. "I don't trust myself," I admit. "Good." That wasn't the answer I expected. "Why is that good?"

I'm the McGee family's true heir, the one who went missing for ten years, and I still tied with their adopted son for the top score in the state. My parents made a show of treating us equally. They booked two private rooms for our college send-off dinner and told us to pick whichever one we wanted. I'd grown up poor, poor enough that it still scared me, so I didn't hesitate. I chose the Gilded Room. The adopted son, Pete McGee, nodded and said that was fine. Then, right as we were walking out the door, he burst into tears and said he'd been raised by our parents too. Why should he always be the one to give way to me? My father, George McGee, stepped in with an awkward smile to smooth th

About today. I remembered the man I used to be. A man who measured success by profits. A man who believed influence could replace presence. A man who spent years believing there would always be more time. I wasn't that man anymore. At least, I hoped I wasn't. I still had regrets. I always would. Some wounds never disappeared completely. But maybe redemption wasn't supposed to happen all at once. Maybe it wasn't found in dramatic speeches. Or expensive gifts. Or impossible promises. Maybe redemption lived in much smaller moments.