Chapter 5 - Midnight Confessions

The house was quiet again.

Marcus had left hours ago, but his presence still lingered in the air, like the ghost of someone who had seen too much but still did not know enough.

Dwayne sat alone in his darkened living room, the TV off, the room lit only by the pale glow of the streetlamp outside. His mug sat cold on the coffee table, untouched since Marcus left. The weight in his chest had not lifted. If anything, it had gotten heavier.

He should not have told Marcus anything.

Not because Marcus didn’t deserve the truth, but because the truth had sharp edges. And if Sienna really wanted to hurt him, she would start with the people closest to him.

Dwayne leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight like a man bracing for impact.

He had dragged Marcus into a storm he had helped create.

The truth no one knew, not even Marcus, was that Dwayne had not been running from his past.

He had embraced it.

The first time was for Marcus.
The second, for someone else.
And after that, it got easier.

Every time someone he cared about was threatened, Dwayne had made the same choice, do something unforgivable to save them.

Justified sins in the name of loyalty.

And he got good at it.

Too good.

Until Sienna found out.

She did not just discover what he had done, she uncovered who he really was. She studied him. Mirrored him. Got inside him, mind, heart, body, and made him believe it was real.

And maybe for a moment, it was.

He cared about her, more than he wanted to admit.
And she knew.

She knew he would do anything for the ones he loved.
That was the key.
That was the trap.

And he walked into it willingly.

Now the damage could not be undone.
Only managed.

And the people he cared about were starting to get caught in the fallout.

His phone lay beside him, screen dark, silent.

He stared at it for a long time.

Then, finally, he picked it up.

One unread message.

Dr. Aaliyah Jackson
You missed our session today. I’ve been worried about you.

He read it again.

And again.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard, then retreated. He let the phone fall against his knee, exhaled hard, and closed his eyes. Aaliyah’s voice echoed in his mind, not the clinical tone from early sessions, but the softer one from after hours. When the distance started slipping. When her words got warmer. When her gaze lingered too long.

Dwayne opened his eyes.

Typed slowly.

Dwayne:
I’m still here. Just trying to hold it together.

He paused.

Then added:

Can we talk? Not a session. Just… talk.

He hit send before he could overthink it.

The message status flipped: Delivered. Then: Read.

Ten minutes later, her reply came in.

Dr. Jackson:
Yes. Name the time and place.

Dwayne stared at those words, knowing full well there was no version of this that ended clean.

But he was already too deep.

And now Marcus was too.

And soon she would be a part of it.

The sky was still dark when Dwayne sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand.

He opened the thread with Dr. Jackson, thumb hovering for a moment before typing.

Dwayne:
Let’s meet tomorrow morning.
There’s a trail just past Lakehurst and Fifth. I used to jog there before everything… before Sienna.
It’s quiet. Private.
I’ll be there at 6.

He hit send.

A pause.

Then her reply came in, steady.

Dr. Jackson:
I’ll be there.

He locked the screen and sat in the stillness.

Dwayne did not sleep well. The weight of the coming morning pressed on his chest like a storm ready to break.

When the first pale light crept through the blinds, his eyes snapped open.

He lay still for a moment, heart racing, mind swirling with thoughts he wasn’t ready to face.

Eventually, he swung his legs off the bed and stood.
Cold hardwood floor met his feet as he padded quietly to the bathroom.

The mirror reflected a man worn thin, eyes shadowed, jaw tight.

He ran a hand through his hair, then splashed cold water on his face.

The chill helped, but didn’t wash away the knot twisting in his gut.

Back in his room, he pulled on a dark hoodie and his running shoes, the weight of the day settling on his shoulders.

He checked his phone one last time. No new messages.

The clock read 5:45 a.m.

Plenty of time.

He grabbed his keys, slipped out the door, and headed toward the trail, toward the place where the past and present would finally collide.

The early morning air was crisp, the sky a soft wash of dawn pink and gray.

Dwayne stood near the trailhead, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets. His breath came out in small clouds, fading quickly in the cool air.

A few steps away, Dr. Jackson approached, her pace steady but cautious, eyes searching his face.

They stopped a few feet apart, the quiet between them thick with unspoken words.

Dwayne’s gaze locked onto hers, sharp and serious.

“Before we start,” he said, voice low and steady, “what I’m about to tell you, you don’t share it with anyone. Not your husband. Not your closest friend. No one.”

Her eyes widened. She hesitated, biting her lower lip, the weight of his demand sinking in.

“This isn’t therapy talk,” he continued, his tone hardening slightly. “This is real. Dangerous.”

She looked away briefly, her jaw tightening, then met his eyes again.

“I… I don’t know if I can promise that,” she admitted quietly, voice wavering.

Dwayne’s eyes narrowed, but he kept his voice calm, controlled.

“I’m trusting you with everything. But if it gets out, I don’t know what’ll happen. Or who’ll get hurt.”

Her breath hitched. After a long pause, she nodded slowly.

“I understand,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Dwayne’s shoulders relaxed fractionally, but his eyes never left hers.

“Good. Then let’s start.”

They started walking slowly, side by side, the gravel crunching under their feet.

The silence stretched, thick but not uncomfortable.

Dwayne didn’t look at her when he spoke.

“I never took therapy seriously.”

Dr. Jackson glanced at him but said nothing.

“Not really. Not even when I first came to see you. I thought I could control it. Like I always have.”

“Control what?” she asked gently.

He paused, breath fogging in the morning air.

“Everything,” he said quietly. “My thoughts. My instincts. My... other side.”

She tilted her head, listening.

Dwayne turned his gaze to the trees lining the trail, still dripping with dew.

“The first time was senior year. Marcus got into a fight with some kid from Kennedy, one of those fast-talking legacy types who thought the rules didn’t apply to him. He blindsided Marcus, but security only saw Marcus swing back. They were going to expel him.”

A short breath.

“I broke into the admin building that night. Stole a staff badge. Got into the system. Wiped the security footage. Made it look like it never happened.”

She said nothing. Just listened.

“Knox handled it,” he said, voice even. “No panic. No guilt. Just clarity. I was there the whole time. Not watching… participating.”

He finally looked back at her.

“I’ve never lost time. Never woken up wondering what I’ve done. I remember everything. That’s why I can’t pretend he’s not real.”

She opened her mouth, then paused.

He kept going.

“He doesn’t come out unless he’s needed. When the math gets ugly. When someone I love is in danger. He’s the part of me that doesn’t flinch.”

“And Marcus knows?”

Dwayne nodded once. “No. He was so surprised at me for doing what I did. No one knows fully except me and now you.”

He shifted, the gravel crunching underfoot.

“The next time it happened… I knew.”

He looked down the path, as if it might show him where it all went sideways.

“I knew Knox would do whatever it takes.”

Dwayne’s voice was barely above a whisper now, but every word cut clean.

“The next time… it was freshman year. MIT.”

He swallowed hard.

“My little sister, Leila, was seventeen. She came to visit for the weekend. She wanted to see where her ‘genius brother’ lived. Thought it was magic, me being there.”

His voice was steady, but something beneath it cracked, like a weight trying to hold.

“She got in early. Took a red-eye. Said she’d wait in the commons till I got out of class.”

His throat worked around the words.

“I was late.”

He paused.

“A guy in the graduate robotics lab, assistant lecturer, offered her coffee. Showed her around. Friendly. Safe. Someone with a badge.”

A beat passed. His hands curled into fists.

“He didn’t stop at touching her.”

His jaw locked.

“He got her shirt halfway off. Tore it trying to pin her down. Unclasped her bra while she screamed. She said she felt… exposed. Like her body didn’t belong to her anymore.”

He paused, his breath catching in his throat.

“She said she froze. That her mind left the room even before she got out.”

Aaliyah’s hands were trembling. She tucked them into the sleeves of her jacket as if trying to steady herself, or to hold something in.

Dwayne kept going.

“She got away because he underestimated her. She faked being calm, said she just needed a second. He eased up. That’s when she elbowed him in the gut, kicked him in the balls and ran.”

He swallowed hard.

“But when I found her…”

He looked at the dirt beneath his shoes.

“She was half-naked. In the back stairwell. Arms wrapped around herself. Shaking so hard she couldn’t even dial my number again.”

Silence.

“She didn’t say a word on the ride home. Just sat in my passenger seat… crying without making a sound.”

The trail seemed to grow colder around them.

Aaliyah had turned slightly away, blinking fast, jaw tight. She wasn’t looking at him, not because she didn’t want to, but because she wasn’t sure she could.

Dwayne spoke again, voice clear now. Focused.

“I didn't want revenge.”

“I wanted certainty. I wanted him to know fear, the kind he couldn’t outrun.”

“So Knox gave him that.”

He didn’t explain what that meant. He didn’t have to.

Aaliyah looked up at him then, eyes glossy.

Not with pity.

With something more dangerous.

Recognition.

“I let him in that night. Not on accident. Not like I slipped. I opened the door and stepped aside.”

He looked directly at her now, like he needed her to know.

“He didn’t black me out. I was there. I helped him.”

Dwayne took a shaky breath, the fire behind his eyes burning clean.

“We waited till the guy left the lab two nights later. Followed him. Learned everything, his schedule, his secrets, the porn on his hard drive, the burner email he used to message undergrads. I hacked into his phone, Knox wrote the message we sent, from him, to his advisor.”

His lips twitched, not in amusement, but something colder.

“Left the right things out. Hid the right ones away. Scratched out a note with words he’d used before. And then, made sure he’d never do it to anyone else.”

The wind moved through the trees like it was listening.

“The news ran it like some tragic college dropout story. Depression. Guilt. Alcohol. The system’s latest casualty. No one questioned it.”

He turned to her then. Slowly.

“Except me. Because I was there. And I let Knox finish it.”