The Lying Game

A/N: First off, this is mostly unedited. I know editing is important, and that gramatical errors can be distracting, but that's something that can easily be fixed. If you could keep your critiques  more about the actual story plot and characters than grammar, I would appriciate it. Though the beginning is a little rough, and it's super long, if you read it to the end it'll get better. I still have a lot of work to do on it, and any suggestions or ideas you could give would be greatly appriciated. And thanks to anyone who took the time to read it, let alone the whole thing 

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THE LYING GAME

 The five of them woke together, as if summoned. The room they had been cast into was filled with the smell of mildew and the ugly light of fluorescence. The first to open his eyes was Mr. Bradbury. He blinked as if the lighting burned his retinas before trying to move his hands. They were tied. “What the hell-,” he was barely able to spat out before he turned his head and noticed the others. All five of them sat on the damp concrete floor, wrists tied like prisoners. “What the hell is going on here?”

The next to open their eyes was the youngly coupled Mr. and Mrs. Newburg. Kate’s face was caked with her smeared make-up and the muck off the floor. She couldn’t see well without her glasses, so she squinted her eyes at her blurred surroundings. Phil opened his eyes before trying to move, suddenly shocked by the restraint. He wiggled obsessively, trying to break free of the rope cutting into his skin. “Hey, calm down,” Mr. Bradbury tried, but was useless to Phil’s fear.

“Somebody fucking get me out of this,” he panicked, his eyes still slightly glazed from the sedatives. His wife, who sat beside him, was slowly starting to nod off again, the sedatives working stronger on her small figure. Coach Anderson had been sitting there quietly, absorbing the situation quicker than the others.

“Looks like we’ve been taken for ransom.”

The three others snapped their heads in his direction as Cassandra Cofelt began to stir into consciousness. “How would you know?” Phil barked, still wiggling uncomfortably.

“Look around, Newburg. It doesn’t take a God damn genius.”

“Huh?” Cassandra murmured, eyes barely opening. “W-what’s going on?”

Nobody answered, Coach Anderson laying his head back against the wall, Kate still trying to stay awake, Phil still wiggling uncontrollably, and Mr. Bradbury searching the room for any means of escape. Cassandra’s jagged breathing could be heard as she realized her wrists were tied. “W-what the hell?” Tears began filling her eyes as she looked to the others. “What the hell is going on?”

“Ransom, Cofelt,” Coach said coldly.

“We don’t know that,” Phil snapped. “Why would someone take us for ransom?”

As they looked around amongst each other, they realized that was the million dollar question.

The room consisted of their town’s most loved people. There was Cassandra – the special education teacher who had spent her life helping mentally debilitated children. Then there was Coach Anderson – the man with the game plans. He had inspired many teen athletes to become successful in life. There was the Newburgs after that,who were well-known around the neighborhood for taking in the kid’s of their deceased friends; a boy with down syndrome and his older sister . They held barbeques and other various block parties almost every month. They were the neighborhood favorites. Then last, but certainly not least, there was Sean Bradbury. Though most wealthy men spent their money on new cars and women, he had given generous amounts to charity. He had several hospital wings and a couple of parks named after him, not to mention the summer camp he had started up for children of poor families. He was easily considered the saint of money.