The party last night had been for my friend Anne. I usually avoided parties, but since Anne was my best friend, I felt it was my duty as a good best friend to go.
But this morning, when I woke up, I wasn’t in my own room. I was laying on a sterile white and black tiled floor, right next to Anne.
I stood up, and my legs felt cold, and when I looked down, I realized I was wearing a hospital gown. Anne had one on, too. When I looked around, I realized that we were not the only ones in the room.
Laying a few feet away, a hand flung over his eyes, was my friend and Anne’s boyfriend, Marcus, and sitting up in the corner, looking terrified was Jordan.
“Where are we?” he whispered.
I shrugged, and Anne groaned. I knelt down to help her up.
“Simon? What are you doing here?” Anne asked.
“What is here?!” Jordan yelled. “And what did they do to us?!”
“What do you mean?” Anne asked him sleepily.
“Well someone had to put us in these hospital gowns and cut open our arms and sew them back together!” Jordan explained. “So who was it, and why!”
“I don’t know anything about this!” Anne said, starting to panic. “How would I know about this?”
Jordan flung a paper at us. “Read that. We’re all here for a reason.”
“One of you is lying. One of you is a murderer. All of you have your reasons to have killed him, so who could it be?
Simon, a nerd, used to getting good grades so that he can go to Harvard, robbed of his good grade on the last group project they did.
Anne, a preppy, rich girl, used to getting her way, refused when she asked him to go out with her.
Jordan, a jock, used to winning every game he’s at, robbed of that chance by him.
Marcus, too overprotective of his girlfriend, caught him staring at Anne the other night.”
“Who are they even talking about?” Anne shrieked.
“I think I know…” I said. “Remember that one kid, last year? Zack?”
“The one that committed suicide?” Anne asked.
“Yeah, him. This person seems to think that one of us killed him. But we couldn’t have! We’ve known each other for as long as we can remember. We’re not murderers… are we?” I asked.
“What’s going on?” asked a very tired Marcus from behind us.
After we’d filled everyone in on what was going on, we all sat in a circle, staring at each other.
“Zack wasn’t murdered. But the person or people who put us here seem to think that one of us killed him,” I said.
“I think we’re supposed to figure out who the murderer is. I think if we do that, then maybe we can go home,” Jordan explained.
Everyone immediately said that it wasn’t them, and Marcus yelped.
“What?” I asked.
He was rubbing his head. “It felt like a little shock through my brain!”
“None of us felt that…” Anne said. “A-are you the murderer, Marcus?”
“No, Anne, I would never!” Marcus exclaimed.
“But none of us felt a shock…” Anne said slowly. “And you were with Zack on the day he died.”
“Who thinks Marcus was the one who killed Zack?” Anne announced.
Jordan raised his hand, and so did Anne. I was the only one who didn’t have their hand up.
“Simon, why don’t you think that Marcus killed Zack?” Anne demanded.
“Because we don’t have proof that he did!” I exclaimed. “And if we decide that he’s the murderer, who knows what will happen to him!”
“Simon, it’s okay,” Marcus said. “You can vote me out, it’s okay.”
I stared into his eyes, and I knew he could not have been the murderer. And yet, slowly, I raised my hand.
Almost instantly, there was a horrible electrifying noise, and Marcus fell to the floor, dead.
Anne didn’t react, and looking at her, I was certain that she was the murderer.
The second that Marcus hit the floor, there was a buzz from above the door, and they slowly slid open.
Another note was on the floor.
“Now that the game is done, you’ve all become murderers, after falling for the well-crafted lies of the liar. We’ll meet again soon.”