Mid-Break Tensions Rise
805 Words
His calm tone faltered slightly. “As I turned to leave, a medical cart slammed into my leg, sending me sprawling. Before I could get back up, the ceiling cracked. Everything went dark after that.”
The group listened intently, their expressions uneasy.
Dr. Harris’s story was filled with technical jargon. If any part of it were fabricated, it would be nearly impossible to tell.
“Where are you from, Dr. Harris?” the muscular man asked casually.
“I don’t see why that’s relevant,” Dr. Harris replied curtly. “My story is complete.”
The muscular man opened his mouth to retort but thought better of it.
“Uh, is it my turn?” a bespectacled young man stammered, his eyes darting nervously. “My name is—”
“Wait,” the Suspicious One interrupted suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension.
The young man flinched. “W-what is it?”
“It’s intermission,” the Suspicious One said with a grin. “We’ll take a twenty-minute break.”
The group sat in uneasy silence.
A "mid-game break"? Really?
Locke glanced at the clock in the center of the table. It had been thirty minutes since they awoke. The time now read 12:30.
“So, the ‘break’ must be mandatory,” Adrian mused internally. “When the clock hits 12:30, no matter who’s speaking, a 20-minute recess is enforced…”
Yet the game had only been underway for thirty minutes, and now there was a break lasting almost as long?
Adrian frowned. It wasn’t his place to question the logic of a madman. This game’s host clearly wasn’t operating under rational human thought.
He mentally rehearsed his lie again: “My name is John Smith, and I’m from Ohio.”
Repeating the phrase over and over was the only way he could ensure it would roll off his tongue without hesitation when it was his turn to speak.
The oppressive atmosphere in the room only grew during the so-called “break.”
“Can we… talk during this time?” the muscular man finally asked.
“Oh, of course,” the **Suspicious One** replied with a bemused grin. “This is your free time. I won’t interfere.”
The muscular man nodded and turned to Dr. Harris. “Dr. Harris, where are you from?”
William’s expression darkened. “You seem to have a lot of questions for me,” he said coolly. “Why should I tell you where I’m from?”
“Don’t misunderstand me—I mean no harm,” the man replied in a calm, steady voice. “But the more you share, the more credible your story becomes. Everyone else has stated their hometown. Why hold back?”
“The more you share, the more credible you become?” William repeated with a faint scoff. “I’ve always believed that the more you say, the more mistakes you make. If the rules are absolute, then my story is perfectly fine as it is. Besides, I don’t trust any of you.”
“That’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?” the man countered. “There are nine of us, and only one is the liar. If you work with us, we can root them out. The more you refuse to cooperate, the more suspicious you seem. This is the second time I’ve asked you. Are you going to keep dodging the question?”
His words were sharp and relentless, boxing William into a logical corner.
The implication was clear: only the liar had no need to trust anyone else—they already knew their role. Refusing to share would make William a prime target.
But William wasn’t just anyone. A neurosurgeon didn’t reach his position without being able to hold his ground.
“Then you tell me,” William said with a sharp smile. “Who are you? What do you do?”
The muscular man hadn’t expected the tables to turn so quickly. His expression flickered with unease.
“That’s fair,” William continued. “Since you’ve been pressing me so hard after my turn, it’s only right that I ask you before yours. Don’t you think?”
The man hesitated briefly, then nodded. “You’re right. I have nothing to hide. My name is Williams, and I’m a homicide detective.”
His words stunned the group.
“A cop?!” William blinked in surprise.
It made sense now—the way Mark had been probing everyone, his insistence on trying to organize them. Perhaps he really was trying to save them all.
William’s demeanor softened. “If that’s the case, then I apologize for my earlier attitude. I’m from Illinois.”
Gale, the tattooed man, frowned. “William, are you really going to trust him just because he claims to be a cop?”
- Writer
