I Confessed to My Own Murder Online

A murderer who had been on the run for years suddenly posted online, exposing his true identity.

He said he was terminally ill and didn’t have long to live.

He wanted to repent to the boy he had ultimately killed.

“There were 23 victims. Twenty-two of them were vile people.”

“Only the last boy was truly innocent.”

“I was deceived back then and wrongly harmed a good person. I regret it deeply.”

“I hope that after seeing this post, everyone can help me find his remains.”

“So he can finally rest in peace.”

The post didn’t draw much attention at first; most people were skeptical.

Some said the poster was chasing attention.

Others mocked him for using any means to gain traffic.

Only Grace Whitman replied.

“Samuel Yates, stop pretending. I know it’s you.”

——

So many years had passed, yet Grace’s profile picture hadn’t changed.

It was still the photo I had taken of her back then.

Only her username had changed—to a couple’s name with Zachary Wilson.

It seemed their relationship had gone smoothly all these years.

As I was lost in thought, more sarcastic comments appeared below.

The murderer, clearly irritated, began to explain:

“I’m really not lying. The last person I killed was a fresh graduate.”

“He was very young, just in his early twenties.”

“He was about to get married, but fate played a cruel joke, and he died by my hands.”

“Sigh, I truly regret it now.”

“I shouldn’t have believed the rumors. Because of a misunderstanding, I caused the death of an innocent life.”

To convince everyone, he revealed the time and place of the murder,

and described the entire process.

How he broke the victim’s legs so he couldn’t escape.

He pulled out his teeth and tongue so he couldn’t cry for help.

How he tortured him slowly, without mercy.

“It was winter then. The ground was frozen solid.”

“The body was hard to deal with, so we used extreme methods.”

“The organs were flushed into the water, and the bones were left nearby.”

“It’s a deserted place no one goes to. They should still be there.”

“I’m dying now and have no strength left. I can only leave this to you.”

“My death means nothing. I only hope he can rest in peace soon.”

Such a detailed confession was the strongest proof of all.

The tone in the comments slowly changed.

The post’s popularity surged.

Some people urgently tagged the cyber police, digging up every possible clue.

Others spontaneously formed a “bone-finding team,” hoping the poor boy could be buried soon.

Amid all the discussion,

only Grace’s comments stood out.

She stubbornly posted under the murderer’s account again and again.

“Samuel, stop pretending. I know it’s you.”

“We’re all adults now. Your tricks won’t fool me anymore.”

“You were the one who abandoned me first. I’ll never forgive you.”

“And I’m marrying Zachary soon.”

“I hope you won’t go this far just to break us up again.”

Looking at those comments,

I could almost see her furious expression.

Grace thought I was trying to revive our past.

That I pretended to be a murderer just to get her attention.

But she didn’t know that I—

was the twenty-third corpse.

In the distance, sirens echoed along the mountain road.