I never thought I’d find myself in this position. A detective, trained to seek the truth, sitting here writing this… confessing to something I thought I’d never be capable of. It feels surreal, like I’m outside myself, watching a movie I didn’t want to star in.
When I first joined the force, I was filled with idealism. I wanted to make a difference. It was about justice then—a noble calling. But somewhere along the line, the weight of reality crept in. The pressure to solve cases, the endless headache of paperwork, and then there was the crime rate. It hung over our heads like a dark cloud. Each unsolved case a reminder of how the system can fail. Some days, it felt easier to bend the rules than to fight an uphill battle against a flawed system that seemed more interested in statistics than truth.
It all changed with the Harris case. Eric Harris was a small-time criminal—nothing serious, just petty theft and drug possession. But the night of the murder, he was at the wrong place at the wrong time—or so it looked. There was an uproar in the community, demands for justice ringing in my ears like a relentless drumbeat. Everyone wanted closure, and I was determined to provide that. I genuinely believed he did it. I mean, his history suggested he was capable of such violence. In the whirlwind of anger and unrest, I forgot one critical thing: suspicion isn’t proof.
I can still picture the moment when I made the choice to plant that evidence. It was a flash of desperation—a sickening moment when I thought I could end the suffering, both for the victim's family and for the community. I tucked that knife away in a place where it would ensure the case seemed airtight. I justified it with a horrible logic: sometimes you have to take shortcuts for the greater good.
But here’s the thing: there is no “greater good” when you violate the law. There’s only a deepening lie that spirals out of control. The weight of my actions crushed every shred of integrity I thought I had.
The trial came, and I watched as the prosecution laid out their case, based largely on my “evidence.” Eric, with his tired eyes and resignation, sat at the defendant's table, bearing the burden of my crime. I felt hollow. The cheers from the crowd when the verdict was read pierced me like a thousand knives. I convicted an innocent man—a man who would spend years behind bars because I acted in fear and desperation.
In the days that followed, the guilt became unbearable. Every night, I’d lie awake, haunted by the image of him, looking like a broken doll when he was led away in handcuffs. I saw my colleagues celebrating a “major win,” but I felt like I was drowning. Every moment of silence tormented me, each second stretching into an eternity.
I thought about confessing, but fear kept me silent—a fear of losing everything: my job, my family, my life. How could I admit that I became the very thing I swore to fight against? Yet, each day passed, and nothing changed. My soul felt like it was rotting from the inside out, and I couldn’t bear it anymore.
So here I am, writing this confession in the hope that it might start the long, painful process of making this right. I’ll take whatever punishment comes my way—jail, the loss of my badge, my reputation… it’s all deserved. I can’t stand by while another man suffers because of my cowardice.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from all this, it’s that the truth has a way of clawing its way to the surface, no matter how deeply buried. It will destroy everything in its path, and in this case, it’ll destroy me. But I welcome it. I hope it brings Eric Harris the justice he deserves, and I hope it serves as a warning to others. We should never allow ourselves to become the monsters we fight against.
I’m sorry, Eric. I’m sorry to your family. I’m sorry to my fellow officers who upheld the oath I broke. I’m sorry to every person who believes in justice because I shattered that trust. I know these words may not bring any solace, but it's all I have left to offer.
Nathan Parker Officer, City Police Department
I stand at the shore, my sins lain bare. I pray for more, as the pain feels unfair.
I beg to start anew, words spoken are truth. I know storms brew, within and out on the move.
I shout for the rain, feet stuck in the sand. "Wash it all away!" I lift up my hands.
The clouds darken, the sky begins to fall. A smile is marked for, a new chance for all.
Every theif knows these two rules;
I'd gotten this far and with hardly any trouble. 2 guards outside of the facility and only another 3 since I have been inside. Here I was face to face with what I've spent years looking for; my mother's amulet. It's said to have magical qualities, that's why the Keep has had it hidden away in this "high-security" building worlds away from civilization.
With one last look, my eyes dart around the room before finally grabbing the amulet with a tentative grasp. I brace myself for alarms because again, this has been way too easy but nothing happens. I shove the amulet into my pocked and tie myself back to the grappling hooks wire, clicking the retract button; I can practically taste the victory warm in my mouth.
Once on top of the building, I put my gear back into my backpack and get my phone out to send the signal when suddenly,
snap
There he is. Right below me on the ground, smirking at his comrades fallen bodies. My arch nemesis, Grave. And he knew I was there. I had to think fast.
Dropping to my knees, I roll out of view and grab into my pack with a frantic pace. Trying to be as stealthy as possible, I grab the smoke grenade, my hands fumbling with the anxiety of being THIS CLOSE to completing my mission.
POP
The smoke grenade falls from my hands and falls a few stories down to the ground where it lands, broken. Pretty much took my hope with it, I thought. I scrambled to my feet and cluched my backpack as I stood face to face with Grave.
"It's been a while," he said, letting the glare of his pistol smile at me. "Miss me, Red?"
I took a single step back and grabbed the small pistol tucked into my thigh high right boot. I fired the gun at him without missing a beat. "Not at all."
The bullet had grazed by his face and he was on me immidiately, knocking my backpack to the side of me. A strange glow illuminating through it now. He slammed my wrist down, causing the gun to scatter a good distance away. Groaning, I headbutted him in the face, hard. Blood trickled down onto me and he winced holding his nose, his gun in hand.
I had two options; take that gun and try again. Or... see what that amulet was all about.
In a split second decision and one singular motion, I threw him forward and off of me and rolled while grabbing the necklace out of the backpack. I put on the amulet and gripped it with purpose, willing something, anything to happen.
Grave, still holding the bridge of his nose, stood up and laughed. "You stupid girl, it doesn't do anything!" He took another threatening step towards me, raising his gun. He placed his finger on the trigger and simultaneously a bright light emited from the amulet. He was on fire in an instant and I was gone.
Time to finally go home.
When a quiet fills the night, when all screaming and yelling wains. A welcoming darkness smiles, a lonely peace filling her veins.
Her eyes close and she drifts, the portal is just in front of her. Be careful not to trip, her eyes set on where she's been before.
Looking below at her fragile body, she wishes she didn't have to return. "To Lucidity" she whrispered softly, a home to stay is what she yearned.
