WHAT JUS BEGAN

ONE OF US IS LYING 2

Simon sat at the edge of Chuck’s old bed, the room frozen in time. Posters on the wall, guitar resting by the window, notebooks still open on the desk. A life interrupted. He inhaled sharply and flipped through a torn spiral notebook. Lyrics. Random thoughts. But then… something else.

A name circled in red ink: Sarah. And beneath it, scribbled, She’s not who they think she is.”

Simon closed the book. His mind raced. It was time to start with the first suspect.

David.

He found him at the park, slouched on a bench, hoodie up, eyes hollow.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Simon said, standing in front of him.

David looked up. “Because I don’t have anything to say.”

“You were the last to see Chuck alive.”

David tensed. “You don’t know that.”

“But you went to the bathroom. Everyone else was half-passed out. It adds up.”

David chuckled bitterly. “You think I stabbed my best friend? For what?”

“Jealousy,” Simon said flatly. “You liked Sarah. Chuck had her.”

David stood. “So did Martin at one point. Maybe ask him.”

“I will. But you had the motive. You’ve been in love with her since freshman year.”

David’s hands curled into fists. “That wasn’t love. I just thought… if I had what he had, maybe I’d matter more.”

There it was. A flash of something real.

“Where were you when Chuck died?”

“I told the cops. Bathroom. Maybe five minutes.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed. “That’s more than enough time.”

David stepped closer. “I didn’t kill him.”

“Then who did?”

David’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know. But Sarah wasn’t herself lately. Quiet. Scared. And Chuck… he was saying things he shouldn't.”

“Like what?”

David hesitated. “He said he knew something about her. Something that would ruin everything.”

Simon felt the puzzle tighten. “What about Martin?”

David scoffed. “Martin’s just confused. Always has been. He’d do anything for Chuck… but Chuck never gave him the time of day.”

Simon turned to leave, then paused. “One more thing. The knife… it came from the kitchen. Only one set of prints. Smudged. But the handle had oil. Someone washed it first.”

David blinked. “I didn’t touch it.”

“That’s the problem,” Simon muttered. “None of you did. And yet, someone did.”

That night, Simon reviewed the timeline. Everyone had a motive. David — jealousy. Martin — unrequited love. Ruth — always in the background, watching her friendships crack. And Sarah… the mystery.

He played the voicemail again. The one Chuck left the night before he died.

“I know the truth, bro. About Sarah. I don’t know what to do with it… but she needs help. Not judgment. Promise me that.”

Simon leaned back. Chuck knew something. Maybe everything.

And it got him killed.

But who was protecting what?

As rain tapped against the window, Simon whispered the question again to the empty room:

“Who’s lying?”

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