Confessions of the Wicked

Trigger Warning: This story contains mentions of suicide, murder, S/A, and drug abuse.

To whomever it may concern in the future, I must confess.

Lisa clutched the letter tightly in her trembling hands, her heart racing as she tried to process the words before her. Each sentence felt like a distant echo, her mind struggling to comprehend the reality they presented. The ink on the paper blurred into a haze as she stared at it as if it were a passage from a dramatic novel rather than a message meant for her.

One shaky hand dropped to the desk, the wooden surface cool against her palm, while the other instinctively covered her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle a gasp. A powerful wave of dread surged through her, leaving her muscles taut and aching with anxiety. Feeling an urgent need to escape the suffocating atmosphere, she pivoted on her toes, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, and made a fast beeline for the door, desperate to put distance between herself and the shocking revelation contained in that letter.

Her mind raced wildly, grappling with the cruel reality of working in the very prison where her brother had been a devoted inmate for the last ten years. The stark, cold walls echoed with memories of their shared laughter, now replaced by a haunting sense of despair. Every day, she poured herself into her work, driven to the brink of insanity as she navigated the complex legal system, desperately seeking a way to free him. Yet, in the quiet moments, a dark shadow loomed over her thoughts—the chilling possibility that all her efforts might still fall short in saving him from the fate the letter she held had predicted.

She remembered the moment she first heard about her brother's arrest in South Korea, a wave of despair crashing over her. Confusion and heartbreak gripped her as she tried to fathom why he had been taken from her. In those early days, she had poured herself into studying the laws of both Korea and the United States, desperate to understand the gravity of the twenty-four murder charges and two counts of attempted murder he faced. Late nights spent poring over legal texts had become her refuge, each page turning fueled by an unwavering determination to bring him back and piece together the chaos that had upended their lives.

The murders occurred in the United States, which ultimately led Lisa’s family to seek refuge in South Korea. They were fleeing the shadows cast by a chilling truth—Richard was a serial killer. Disturbingly, Lisa's parents were aware of Richard’s dark nature long before the FBI uncovered his gruesome activities. He had confided in them, revealing his violent tendencies and chilling declaration that he would continue his spree regardless of the consequences, even if apprehended.

Richard’s descent into darkness began at a young age. When he was just 17, he was discovered covered in blood at a crime scene, a scene that would mark his third murder. This incident forced him to come clean about his heinous actions. Under pressure from law enforcement, Richard detailed each horrifying crime he committed, recounting events with a disturbing calmness, as if sharing mundane stories instead of the tragedies he inflicted. For Lisa's family, the awareness of his twisted mind and the violent past they were escaping only deepened the turmoil they felt in their new home.

Their parents seriously thought about turning him in to the police, but then they saw Lisa—how could they abandon their youngest? Their son had taken lives! It’s infuriating to think they were so desperate to protect him that they convinced themselves he could get away with it, claiming self-defense. And if that failed, they had the audacity to believe he could plead insanity. It’s maddening! They were determined not to let their family suffer the consequences of his monstrous actions. They had fought hard for their so-called American Dream, and now they were willing to ignore the reality of murder just to keep it intact.

I’ve committed some really questionable acts that I have come to wholeheartedly regret. Some may ask why I even did such a thing. The answer will always be that I do not know myself. You can call it an insatiable urge.

Lisa stood before her brother’s cell, her heart pounding in her chest as she fought to steady her breath. Each inhalation came in shaky increments, a desperate attempt to keep her presence unnoticed in the cold, dimly lit hallway. She searched for some sort of implication to give truth to that letter. All that was in the cell were her brother’s two very active cellmates. They slept serenely, coddled up like children against the wall of their respective bunks. As she tightly gripped the cold metal bar of the cell, an electrifying tension filled the air, causing the inmates to stir in panic. It was as if a primal instinct had been awakened within them, leading them to believe they were suddenly thrust into a perilous struggle for survival—much like the brutal realities one often faces in the dark corners of the slums.

The brawny ginger had his eyes wide and red with irritation. He almost flew from his frame from the banging that Lisa’s small palm had brought to life with a touch. The other—smaller, but still muscular—had softly turned himself over, almost unbothered by the verbal intrusion caused by the one female C.O. showing up at their block in the dead of night. There was only a lustful glare there. 

She sighed and glared at them, her stare demanding to see the last person in the shadows. She hoped from the bottom of her heart that her brother would creep up from behind the twin bunks. A silence made static pass through her ears and her brother didn't emerge. Instead, that small inmate crept from his laid-down position and mirrored Lisa at the entrance to the cell. 

He breathed hard with a tangy output, showering Lisa’s face with disgust. She scoffed as she pressed on her heels, steadily taking a step back. 

To Lisa, the inmate in front of her looked like a starved beast. She often saw the man in front of her teaching other inmates how to cope with their new life in prison. As an inmate himself, he should not have had the right to do so but his compassion and leadership led people to look up to him. He was honestly the sweetest man that she could claim she met in prison. Even her brother had more spine than muscle. 

One day, Lisa decided to ask him why he was still in prison. He explained that same night that he received a life sentence after being caught. He admitted that when he was free, he kidnapped and tortured an uncomfortable amount of transient women. He said something along the lines of “God has no respect for harlots.” Maybe he was insane, but he claimed he was a respectful man of the Lord.

In the state he stood in now, he was the pure antonym of the nice guy persona he usually shows. His eyes rested half-lidded and bloodshot. His gaze lingered on parts of her body with an unsettling desire. Although his hands gripped hard on the bars on either side of her face, he looked ready to topple over with a single misstep. He mumbled to say something but she was only able to understand the slurring of an accused drunk. 

Realizing her presence made no difference to anyone in the vicinity, she sucked in as much as she could and ran off with that breath held within her chest. The letter felt as if it was coming true. 

I want to see the chaos from the front seat. Such a massacre has been my dream since becoming a person of power. I can do it so why not? For 25 years, I  have gotten away with enough wrongdoings to make the boy Im killing tonight look like a saint. He's been a serial killer since childhood but he’s merciful in the sense he ends their suffering. I, however…

Lisa rushed through the halls with her hands clasped around her keys. She glided past cell after cell with nothing standing out to her until she heard a muffled bang come from the prison’s watch tower cantered in the lunch area on the first floor. She crept up to the door and reached for the knob. 

A sharp pain ran through the muscles in her wrist. Her eyes closed for the moment of impact before she opened them to see her brother in nothing but his worn out, once-white, prison boxers. His eyes were wide and the same shaded red as the other inmate she had seen up close. His entire face was morphed into fear itself. Lisa had never seen him look like this. 

Richard fell on top of her, breathing as if he just escaped a nasty waterboarding session. Except he wasn't wet. He was covered in oil. She froze in place, a fathomable confusion filling her expression.  

The room grew more tense as Richard only stared for a moment and opened his mouth, inhaling, and howling. He then pushed off Lisa’s chest and sprinted away, never turning to look back. His destination seemed unclear. It just looked like he wanted to get as far away as possible. 

At first, she found the cowardice retreat understandable because it made sense. The only time a prisoner would get to enter the watch tower was if they were in trouble and about to receive some sort of punishment. 

My morals have morphed over the years. Im not an old man going senile.

I have come to embrace the cruelty I wish to inhabit although I still recognize that this is wrong. I want to watch the hell burn from its core. I understand that this is an unforgivable madness. 

The ending of the letter resurfaced in her brain as the warden walked out from the shadows of the tower. He smiled widely towering over her in uniform pants and his uniform boots. He lifted his hand with his gun pointed to his head. She stared in horror as her brother’s howling continued like a dog whistle. Before she could catch up with herself, the gun was fired and a bullet went straight through the warden’s skull. 

So I write this letter to let you know that I will be taking my own life after have fun and I take the boy’s. 

His body fell limp and the alarms finally took away her silence. She stared at the body and the next four hours of her life passed in a blur. She was taken into emergency care and treated for substance abuse, just like everyone else in the prison. Even though she had accidentally saved her brother's life that night, it was already too many deaths too late. The world had already been spoonfed the confession of the wicked.