Emilia grips the gun, her fingers slick with sweat.
The man’s face is inches away, his eyes wide and insistent. She breaks away from his gaze to look at Ryan. He is trapped, cornered, pulled against the wall.
‘Don’t look at him, Emilia,’ the woman says. ‘Look at us.’
‘What the hell is going on?’ Emilia mutters. Her voice sounds strange, as though it isn’t her own. It’s as if she’s floating out of her body, watching the perverse scene as it unfolds. The two of them gathered around her, Ryan cowering in the corner, her – gripping the gun.
‘You haven’t been brought here to be a victim, Emilia,’ the man says. ‘It was never intended for you to be a victim. You were never in danger. You were brought here for one purpose, and one purpose only. To kill Ryan Kirkland.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘That’s how the Confession Room works,’ the woman says simply. ‘Two people are named. One is meant to be a victim, the other is meant to be a killer. There is no choice.’
Everyone thought there were two potential victims, that they were deciding who should die but … it’s been predetermined all along. They’ve always known who would live and who would die. But what happened with Luca and Hayley?
Her eyes flitter back to Ryan, his face full of despair. He shakes his head.
She can’t do this. They can’t make her do this –
She lifts the gun quickly, aiming it directly at the man’s forehead.
‘Emilia, don’t be stupid,’ the woman says calmly. Emilia glances sideways at her – she has pulled a gun out from somewhere. Something hard presses into her stomach. The man has a gun as well, and it is pushing into her abdomen.
‘Lower it,’ he commands. ‘Now.’
Her arm shakes, hand trembling. She can’t –
‘Your weapon only has one bullet,’ the woman says. ‘Ours have full barrels. If you shoot one of us, you’ll both be dead.’
A cry bursts out of Emilia and she drops her arm.
The man sighs, as if a gun being aimed at his face was just a mild inconvenience.
‘Soon your countdown will begin –’
‘My countdown?’ Emilia interrupts, her face stinging with tears which have begun to fall in hot streaks. ‘I’ve already confessed!’
‘No … this countdown isn’t for confession. This countdown is for justice. The timer will begin and you will have sixty seconds to kill Ryan.’
‘I’m not a murderer.’
‘Neither were the others when they walked in here,’ the woman says, one side of her mouth curling upwards in an eerie smile. ‘But they are now.’
‘I can’t kill a person!’ Emilia shouts. ‘I don’t want to do this –’
‘This is exactly what you wanted.’
‘What are you talking about? No, it isn’t!’
‘Hayley James posted on the forum that she was cheating on her boyfriend, Luca Franco,’ the woman says. ‘She complained that he had changed ever since he had become consumed with online discourse around women knowing their place and serving their partners, and that they owed them. She said that sometimes she felt so angry she could kill him.’
‘But –’
‘And Isabella Santos confessed about her ex-partner. He was abusive. Controlling. She wanted him out of her life. And Joseph Henley? His brother was an incel – a young boy slowly being radicalized in a way that he couldn’t understand. His best friend was becoming someone else, a horrible person – resentful and bitter. He said that he felt guilty that sometimes he wished Freddie was just gone.’ She shrugs. ‘You all asked for this.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ Emilia cries. ‘It’s a turn of phrase, it’s the way people speak! None of us actually wanted this!’
‘We disagree,’ the man says gruffly.
‘This is madness! I’m not a killer. I can’t just kill a stranger –’
The man cocks his head sideways then steps out of her sightline, allowing her to stare straight at Ryan. ‘He isn’t a stranger.’
‘Y-yes, he is.’
‘He might be a stranger to you. But you certainly aren’t a stranger to him.’
She tears her eyes away from the man and stares at Ryan, her eyebrows raised. He shakes his head, his eyes pleading.
‘I swear, Emilia,’ he cries. ‘I don’t know what they’re talking about.’
They’re lying. They’re saying anything they can to make her do their bidding. To turn her into a murderer while their hands remain clean.
‘He doesn’t know me,’ she says, trying to keep her voice firm. ‘He told me he doesn’t know me.’
‘Ryan,’ the woman says, spinning away from Emilia to face him. He shrinks back further into his corner. ‘Be truthful. Do you know this woman?’
‘No!’
‘Yes, you do. You knew who she was the moment she told you her name.’
‘No! I didn’t! I don’t –’
‘He’s lying, Emilia,’ the man says. ‘He knows you. And you know him. You just didn’t know his name. And you did ask for this – in your confession: if I knew who he was, I’d kill him.
Emilia stops breathing, every muscle freezing.
‘This is the man who killed your sister.’