Start is just the End of something Old

ONE OF THEM IS LYING

They were five — David, Ruth, Martin, Sarah, and Chuck. A circle so tight-knit it felt like family. From treehouse battles in middle school to rooftop parties in high school, their friendship had survived everything. Until it didn’t.

The day started like any other. September sun, school stress, and the promise of something fun after. Their secret spot — an abandoned house just outside town — had always been their escape. No parents. No rules. Just music, drinks, and inside jokes that no one else would understand.

Chuck was the loudest that night. Laughing. Dancing. Talking wild dreams about life after high school. Sarah was curled up next to him, smiling like she had a secret. Martin and Ruth argued over music, while David watched from the corner, quiet, thoughtful — like he was somewhere else entirely.

They drank too much. Said things they wouldn’t remember. Or maybe things they’d try to forget.The next morning, light crept through the broken windows of the hideout. The party was over. Hangovers bloomed behind tired eyes. They moved slowly, groaning, shuffling around like ghosts. David stood up first, rubbing his temples and heading toward the bathroom.

That’s when the scream tore through the silence.

Ruth’s voice. High. Sharp. Real.

They rushed in.

Chuck lay on the floor, face pale, blood soaking through his shirt. A knife was lodged in his chest. Lifeless. Cold. Still.

Everything after that blurred.

Police. Sirens. Yellow tape draped across the house like a warning they were too late to hear. Questions. Too many questions. Where were you last night? Did you see anything? Did anyone leave the room? Did he have enemies?

The detectives spoke softly, but their eyes were sharp. Watching every blink. Every breath.

The autopsy confirmed it wasn’t suicide. No hesitation wounds. No defensive marks. Just one clean, deadly strike. Murder. No forced entry. No strangers. Just the five of them.

One dead. Four suspects.

Shock turned to silence. Silence turned to doubt.

One of us did this.

That thought infected everything. Their bond shattered into suspicion. Ruth stopped replying to messages. Martin changed seats in class. Sarah stopped showing up altogether. David — David stayed quiet.

Chuck’s funeral was held two weeks later. The four stood apart like strangers, dressed in black, saying goodbye to a friend they no longer recognized. Or maybe a friend who’d seen something they didn’t want him to see.

The case went cold. Not enough evidence. No confession. Just shadows.

But Chuck’s cousin — Simon — had questions of his own. A straight-A student with a sharp mind and a thirst for truth. He wasn’t buying what the police were selling. He started digging, quietly. Interviewing, observing, pressing buttons no one else dared to press.

He had one mission: *Find out who killed Chuck.*

And as he moved closer to the truth, the secrets buried inside this group began to unravel — jealousy, betrayal, hidden love, shame.

Because someone in that room held the knife.

And the truth?

The truth was going to destroy everything.

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