Confession Room Logs

Confession Room Log: Day 1

"Is your name Daniel Rubinfeld?" "Yes." True.

"But your ID says different. Is your name Robert Longman?" "Yes." True.

“What is your name?” “Paul Whitaker.” True.

"Okay enough of this. Did you kill Lucy?" "No. True.

"Did you kill Sarah?" "No. " Also True.

"Did you kill Ashley?" "No. " True. Again.

“Okay, let’s put it this way. Did you torture them and leave them to die?” “No”, he said laughing Lie.

“That’s a lie.” “Why don’t you try again, Detective.”

“Did you torture the girls and leave them to die?” “Damn right I did you dumb little shit.” Lie.

How the f*ck was that possible? Never had I seen anyone manipulate a lie detector so easily. Was it rigged? Impossible. I had checked it myself before using it on him. Okay. I needed to calm down. He’s messing with my head. I must find a way to get him to confess. For Ashley. For Lucy. For Sarah. Think. Think. Think.

Confession Room Log: Day 2

“Fine. I did it. I killed them.”

“So, you’re admitting to it? Is this your confession? That’s it?”

“I don’t know, what does your lie detector say, detective?” he smirks.


“Listen up, dipshit. You’re a lucky bastard. I don’t know how you’re doing it, but you’re lucky. I will crack you. I will have you confess. For real.” I said.

Confession Room Log: Day 3

“Let me narrate to you a story.”

“Mm, I love stories. Go ahead, detective.”

“So, the story is about you. It’s about how you are a psychotic little shit with no empathy or compassion and an empty life. You tortured three children. Ruthlessly killed them for your own joy.” I shivered at the word joy. “You took them. Drove them to the cabin. Tortured then killed them. The end.”

“You’re wrong.” He growled.

“Excuse me?”


“What do you mean I’m wrong? It’s a story.”

“Shut up! I know what you’re doing, but you know what? I’d rather someone knew it all because I’m not proud of it. So, f*ck you. Here’s your confession. I knew their parents. They thought we were friends. I despised them. I despised the girls too. Hated those clingy little bastards. Uncle Mac, they called me. Something snapped the day they held my fingers and took me to play “Restaurant” with them. So, I took them. Drove them into the log cabin their parents owned. I sat them down. Gave them something in their tea so they wouldn’t feel pain. Then I killed them. After they were dead, I made it look like I tortured them. Had fun with that too. I hated them, detective. I hated them ever since my little Suzie died. I hate all children. Release me from here, and I’ll kill every single one I can find.”


Author: Anonymous

Editor: Ananya Chaure

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