Confession without trust
901 Words
Richard didn’t move for a long moment after he spoke.
“Bring her to me.”
The words still hung in the air like smoke that refused to disappear. Jane felt them press against her skin, heavy and suffocating, as the guard dragged her forward.
Her knees almost gave way when she was stopped in front of him.
Richard Bright stood close now—too close. The same man she had only seen from a distance in whispers and rumours was now real, solid, and impossibly calm. Up close, his expression didn’t match what she had just witnessed. Not the gunshot. Not the blood. Not the death.
There was no visible satisfaction in him.
Only control.
Jane’s breathing was uneven. “Please,” she whispered again, though she didn’t know who she was begging anymore. “I didn’t mean to see anything. I was just passing—”
“Stop,” Richard said quietly .
His voice wasn’t raised, but it cut it through her word silently.
The night felt heavier now, like even the air was listening.
Behind him, the men waited. No one spoke. Even the guards seemed unsure of what direction this was going. Someone had clearly expected an order by now—something final.
Instead, Richard studied her.
Jane hated that he wasn’t rushing. Hated that he looked like a man solving a problem rather than reacting to a threat.
Finally, he said, “Let her go.”
The guard holding her hesitated. “Sir—she saw—”
“I said let her go.”
The grip loosened.
Jane stumbled slightly but stayed on her feet, shocked more by the command than the violence she had witnessed earlier. This didn’t make sense. Nothing about this made sense.
Richard turned slightly, gesturing toward the edge of the field.
“Everyone out,” he ordered.
Protests flickered immediately.
“She can identify us—”
“That’s too risky—”
But Richard didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
“I said out.”
One by one, the men obeyed. Engines started. Doors shut. Within moments, the field that had been full of tension and shadows began to empty, leaving only the distant hum of leaving cars.
Now it was just Jane and Richard.
And the dead silence of the abandoned school.
Jane swallowed hard. Her throat felt raw. “Why… why did you tell them to leave me?”
Richard didn’t answer immediately. He took a slow step closer, then stopped at a careful distance—close enough to speak, far enough not to touch.
Then, finally:
“Because you weren’t supposed to be here.”
“That doesn’t explain anything,” she snapped, fear breaking into anger. “Someone just died. I saw everything.”
Something shifted in his expression- to quick to name heavy to ignore.
Richard looked away for the first time, toward the dark field where the body had been.
“I never wanted this life,” he said quietly.
The Word landed harder than it should have.
Jane blinked. “What?”
He let out a slow breath, like the question itself was exhausting.
“You think men like me choose this.”
Because we enjoy it? Because we don’t know how to leave?”
She voice shook. “people don’t just kill.. someone and say they didn’t want it.
His jaw tightened.
“No,” he agreed. “They don’t. That’s why it never stops.”
For a moment, the wind moved through the broken fence, rattling the vines. Jane hugged herself tighter, unsure whether she was colder from the night or from him.
Richard continued, voice lower now.
“There’s an organization. You don’t need the name. Not yet. But I got inside it a long time ago. Too deep to walk away cleanly.”
Jane stared at him. “So what, you’re saying you’re a victim?”
A faint, bitter smile touched his lips, gone almost immediately.
“I’m saying I’m stuck,” he corrected. “And I’m trying to destroy it from the inside.”
Silence followed.
Jane searched his face for a lie. For manipulation. For anything that made this simple again—monster and victim, good and evil.
But it wasn’t simple.
That was the problem.
“You expect me to believe that?” she asked.
“I don’t expect you to believe anything,” Richard said. “Belief is dangerous. It makes people careless.”
Her hands were still trembling. “You just killed someone in front of me.”
“I didn’t kill him because I wanted to,” he replied, sharper now. “He was already dead the moment he decided to betray them. I just… ended the delay.”
Jane took a step back instinctively.
“So what am I to you now?” she asked. “A problem you’re deciding what to do with?”
Richard’s eyes returned to her, steady again.
“No,” he said.
A pause.
“An accident.”
That word stung more than she expected.
Jane shook her head slightly. “I don’t believe you.”
“I know,” he said.
The honesty in it unsettled her more than any threat could have.
He turned slightly, looking toward the dark road beyond the school.
“But whether you believe me or not,” he said quietly, “you’re already inside this now.
- Writer
