In movies, there's always the hero giving his confession near the end of the movie. He reveals that his father really isn't the Pope, and his book really isn't getting published, and the only black belt he ever had was bought from a department store. After he does this, the woman (yes, it is most likely a man confessing to a woman) feels sympathy on the part of his desperation, along with the rest of the audience. His redemption is achieved through explanation. Because explanation is exculpation.

The basic story is usually: boy meets girl. Boy lies to impress girl. Girl finds out. Boy confesses. Girl is pissed a little but gets over it.

Rinse. Repeat.

It's nothing like reality, where you don't get such chances. One revelation leads to the an eternal difference. Oh, you're an atheist? Let me take a rain check. There aren't any forgive and forget sessions, and if they catch you with a dead girl lying in a pool of blood on your bed...well....you'll probably get the chair.

Even if you didn't mean to kill her, there's always motive.

Motherfucker.

Want to comment on this Flash Fiction? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Flash Fiction and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...