THE CONFESSIONAL II
It was a quiet night, with a cold wind cutting through the air. You pulled your coat tighter around you, adjusted your hat, and walked alone in the wind. The trees along the road swayed, looking particularly sinister in the dim light, and you didn't want to look at either side of the road. The only companionship you have is the dim streetlights flickering along the roadside and the bottle of alcohol in your hand. You are deeply depressed. Lately, you've been struggling financially and can't do much about it, so you just drift through life, getting drunk every night. On good nights, you can go home to sleep; on bad nights, you end up sleeping on the streets. This is your life. You've grown accustomed to it.
You feel dizzy, and your steps grow heavier and heavier. You staggered and stopped by the roadside. Just as you were about to lie down on the nearby bench for the night, you spotted a familiar figure staggering towards you. You recognised him immediately. You hated him with a passion. After all, he owed you a full two hundred dollars! You were furious. Your already unstable emotions erupted. You thought that since the guy was also drunk, you could teach him a lesson. So you grabbed a beer bottle, said nothing, and smashed it over the poor guy's head. You hit him repeatedly, until he fell to the ground. You didn’t notice that he hadn’t made a sound since you started hitting him. You knelt down to look at him, intending to mock him, but no matter how you called out to him, he didn’t respond. You checked his breathing with your hand, and the drunkenness instantly vanished, as if struck by lightning.
He was dead.
You had killed him.
You were now a murderer.
You panic. The biting wind howled, sounding eerily piercing. The wind seemed to mock you, and the outlines of the trees on either side grew increasingly distorted. You felt as though you were in hell, experiencing an unprecedented chill. You mustered all your strength and dragged him into a small grove nearby. It had once been a small farmhouse, but it had been abandoned, leaving a pile of debris behind. You dug out a shovel from the rubbish heap, exerting tremendous effort, spending the entire night digging a pit. You struggled to drag his body into the pit. For a moment, you even hoped he would suddenly jump up, hoping this guy was okay. But that was just your fantasy. He was already dead.
You buried him and frantically patted down the soil covering the body, hoping it would look smooth and natural. After doing all this, you were exhausted, but surprisingly, you didn't feel as tense as before. You began to smile secretly, glad that no one knew about it, and you felt a sense of relief. As dawn broke, the morning sunlight dyed the morning mist a deep red, like a blood-red fog.
You felt incredibly relieved. You ran back to your dilapidated rental house and collapsed onto the bed.
You don’t know how long it was before you woke up, feeling dizzy and disoriented. You have no idea how long you had slept. You struggled to get out of bed, your head spinning.
You ate something quickly, then opened a bottle of beer and started drinking.
You want to forget everything, but there’s one thing that keeps lingering in your mind.
Right.
That’s right.
Don’t forget, you just killed a man.
You feel anxious, and your anxiety grows. You can't take it anymore. You put on your coat and run all the way to the forest where you hid the body. Everything is the same as before. You are panting heavily. You look at the spot where the body was, but there are no traces of it. You breathe a sigh of relief. You are safe. For now.
Then, you happen to glance at the abandoned farmhouse, and you are terrified. On the rotting wooden wall, there was a camera. Though the camera was already rusty, it seemed to be blinking there. You rush closer to take a look and sneer. The camera’s wires are disconnected. It’s been broken for a long time. Your tense mood calms down again. The case mocks the camera.
But there is one thing that makes you feel uncomfortable. Although the white metal shell is already rusty, its black, transparent, hollow lens is spotless, quietly watching you.
You smiled.
‘You didn't see anything,’ you say to the camera.
The camera didn't speak or move. It just stared at you silently. You found it boring, so you left. But as you walked away, you looked back every three steps. After all, it was too creepy, wasn't it?
That night, you couldn't sleep. All you could think about was that camera. It always had that same expression, doing nothing but staring at you, staring at the ridiculous and pitiful you.
From that day on, your mood grew increasingly worse. You became anxious, visiting the forest every day to check on your hiding place and the camera. Each time, you would foolishly talk to the camera.
“You didn’t see anything.” The camera remained motionless, silently watching you. Through the empty lens, you saw its mockery of you. And through the lens’s reflection, you saw a panicked, pitiful, childish version of yourself.
“You didn’t see anything.” The camera doesn’t respond. This makes you furious. You think it’s despicable for secretly spying on everything. The camera just stays there, motionless, watching you. You can’t take it anymore.
“I know you saw everything! Forgive me! I’m a sinner! I’m a sinner!” You let out your most desperate scream toward the camera.
The camera didn’t speak. It just stayed there, silently, quietly watching you. Watching you through its black hole-like lens.
The camera won.
You were seen through by the camera.
That afternoon, you went to the police station in town and turned yourself in.
Good job.
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