In a community hall on the edge of Driffield, a group of strangers gathers every Tuesday morning to share their secrets. They talk about guilt, grief, and the things that keep them awake at night.
But someone else is listening.
He isn’t here to heal. He isn’t here to forgive. He’s here to take notes. And when the session ends, the real confessions begin, written in blood, carved into flesh, replayed with grotesque precision.
Welcome to The Confessional, where opening up is the last thing you’ll ever do.
Fans of splatterpunk, extreme horror, and psychological slashers will find themselves trapped in this relentless descent into blood-stained intimacy.
Trigger
Graphic violenceMurder/killing of innocentsSexualized body mutilationGore and body horrorBlood and dismembermentPsychological horror/indoctrinationExtreme depictions of fear and traumaSexual AssualtAt the end of this story, there are numbers and names of charities if you are affected by this story. I don’t want to break the illusion and immersion of my storytelling, but I do care about the mental well-being of my readers. Please read at your own risk.