Truth or Lies

Chapter One

“Hi. I’m Emily.”

There was a time when my name echoed through the literary world. I was one of the most celebrated novelists of my generation.

Now...

I’m nothing more than a psychiatric patient.

Once, my words carried weight. They inspired people, sparked conversations, and lived in the hearts of countless readers.

Today, every word I speak is dismissed as the rambling of a madwoman.

Life wasn’t always like this.

There was a time when I believed I had everything—success, admiration, and a future that seemed limitless. Looking back now, those days feel like fragments of a beautiful dream that ended far too soon.

Then everything changed.

A single incident shattered the life I had spent years building.

It became the greatest mystery of my life—a mystery buried beneath layers of unanswered questions, one that, even after two years, remains unsolved.

It all began two years ago.

Back then, I was counted among the country’s most celebrated authors. My novels dominated bestseller lists, critics praised my work, and readers eagerly awaited every new release.

I won’t deny it.

I had become proud of my success.

Perhaps even arrogant.

But I believed I had earned that pride.

No one had handed me fame.

No one had opened doors for me.

Every achievement, every award, every ounce of recognition had been built by my own determination.

That evening, I was driving home with the Best Writer Award resting on the passenger seat beside me.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

It was the happiest day of my life.

I had no idea...

It would also become the day my life began to fall apart.

I was still a long way from home when my car suddenly began to malfunction.

Looking back now, it almost feels as though fate wanted me to witness what was waiting ahead.

The engine sputtered.

A violent jolt threw me forward, and my forehead nearly slammed into the steering wheel.

“Oh, shit.”

The words escaped my lips before I could stop them.

I had to get home.

There was someone I couldn’t wait to share my success with.

The award on the passenger seat felt almost unreal, and I wanted them to see it with their own eyes.

But at that moment, getting home within the next hour seemed impossible.

I turned the key.

Nothing.

I tried again.

Silence.

One more time.

The engine refused to respond.

Frustration tightened its grip around me.

With an irritated sigh, I stepped out of the car and lifted the hood.

A cloud of warm air drifted upward as I stared at the maze of wires and metal components.

I had absolutely no idea what I was looking at.

After pretending to inspect the engine for a few hopeless moments, I let the hood fall shut.

Then I looked around, hoping to find someone—anyone—who could help.

No one.

Only the relentless wind swept across the deserted road.

But how could I have expected otherwise?

It was midnight.

The world had long since retreated behind locked doors and warm lights, leaving the streets abandoned to the darkness.

I walked back toward the car, hoping I could at least call someone for help.

The moment I reached for my phone, my heart sank.

The battery was dead.

For a second, I simply stared at the lifeless screen.

Then frustration took over.

With a cry of anger, I hurled the phone onto the deserted road.

It struck the asphalt with a sharp crack, shattering into pieces.

“Bloody phone... bloody car,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

The wind swallowed my words.

Then...

I heard something.

A sound.

Faint.

Distant.

I froze.

It was too muffled to understand.

It could have been voices.

Or perhaps something else entirely.

I couldn’t tell.

But in that moment...

It gave me hope.

I believed someone was nearby.

I believed I had finally found a way out.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

That single thought became the greatest mistake I made that night.

And the decision to follow that sound...

It was the worst decision of my life.

I didn’t realize it then, but with every step I took toward that distant noise, I was walking straight into my own destruction.

The darkness swallowed everything beyond a few feet.

I could barely make out what lay ahead.

But with every cautious step I took, the blurred scene slowly came into focus.

Then...

I stopped.

My feet refused to move.

An icy chill swept through my body, freezing me where I stood.

The road curved sharply just ahead.

And there...

At the bend...

I witnessed the greatest horror of my life.

A man stood over a lifeless body lying in the middle of the road.

His face was hidden beneath the darkness.

Only the knife in his hand caught the pale glow of the moon.

He drove the blade down.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Each strike was slow.

Deliberate.

Almost mechanical.

There was no rage.

No panic.

No hesitation.

Only a terrifying calm.

The person beneath him was already dead.

That much was obvious.

There was no movement.

No struggle.

No sign of life.

Yet he refused to stop.

He continued stabbing the lifeless body as though death itself wasn’t enough.

As though he wanted to erase every trace that person had ever existed.

Even now...

Two years later...

That horrifying image still haunts me.

I’ve relived that night countless times.

Searching for an explanation.

Searching for a reason.

But one question has never left me—

Why would anyone keep stabbing a corpse that could no longer feel pain?

Then...

Without warning...

The man lifted his head.

My heart stopped.

His gaze swept across the darkness.

Straight toward me.

Instinct took over.

I stepped back behind the curve before he could get a clear look at me.

For one hopeful second, I believed I had escaped his notice.

Or perhaps that was only wishful thinking.

Maybe...

He had already seen me.

Even now, I can’t say for certain.

That uncertainty has haunted me for the past two years.

A violent shiver ran through my body.

Time itself seemed to stand still.

Fear flooded every inch of me like ice through my veins.

My breathing became uneven.

My heartbeat thundered so loudly I was certain he could hear it.

But this wasn’t the time to surrender to fear.

If I let panic take control...

I would end up lying beside that corpse.

I forced myself to breathe.

Slowly.

Quietly.

Somehow, I gathered enough courage to turn around and make my way back toward my car.

My legs trembled beneath me.

Every step felt weaker than the last.

Yet I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t.

When I finally reached the car, I stood perfectly still.

I didn’t dare look back.

I was terrified of what I might see.

Then...

I heard it.

Footsteps.

Behind me.

Slow.

Heavy.

Deliberate.

My blood ran cold.

The sound grew closer.

One step.

Then another.

Each footfall echoed through the silent night, shrinking the distance between us.

My breath caught in my throat.

Someone was coming toward me.

Who was it?

Why were they coming this way?

I didn’t know.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.

The footsteps stopped.

Right behind me.

They were so close that I could almost feel someone’s presence at my back.

My heart climbed into my throat.

Every muscle in my body went rigid.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t move.

For one terrifying moment...

I was certain this was the end.

Then a calm voice broke the silence.

“Ma’am...”

“Are you all, right?”