Broken Justice, Shattered Innocence / Chapter 1: The Game Begins
Broken Justice, Shattered Innocence

Broken Justice, Shattered Innocence

Author: Amy Cannon


Chapter 1: The Game Begins

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That day, at a friend’s get-together, someone suggested we check out the top-rated murder mystery escape room in the whole damn town.

The air was thick with the usual banter, the kind that floats around after a few beers and way too much pizza. It was the kind of Saturday where the world outside just… fades, and you’re left with your people and a sense of mischief.

But halfway through, someone’s face went ghost-white:

"This… this isn’t a game—this is a real murder case!"

You could feel the chill ripple through the room, like someone had cracked open a window in January. In the dimly lit space, no one answered—yeah, we felt it—because we all knew—the killer was among us.

It was a Saturday.

Just after dinner, Parker suggested we check out the murder mystery escape room everyone was raving about.

He motioned us over with a sly grin, the kind of grin that always meant trouble:

"I saw online they’re testing a brand-new beta script (a test-run scenario), and there’s a raffle-style lottery."

"I tried my luck—and guess what? I actually won!"

Parker counted heads: "One, two... just five of us!"

He explained the script was in beta, and lottery winners could bring friends to play for free. The script needed exactly five players.

The second he said it was free, I exchanged glances with my thrill-seeking friends, slapped the table, and said, "Let’s do it!"

A chorus of whoops followed. Free was always the magic word. No one ever turned down Parker’s wild ideas, and honestly, this sounded like the best kind of trouble.

The shop was tucked away in a deserted strip mall corner.

The parking lot was nearly empty, just a couple of rusty sedans and a flickering lamplight buzzing overhead with that bug-zappy buzz. When we walked in, a young woman in a vintage dress greeted us: "Hey there, are you here for the escape-room game?"

Parker checked his phone: "Yeah, we reserved the 2 p.m. beta script."

The woman’s eyes lit up: "You’re here for the ‘Maple Heights Academy’ beta!"

She led us inside: "Right this way."

From the outside, the shop looked tiny, but inside it was a maze of winding corridors, going on forever.

The carpet was threadbare, and the walls were lined with old movie posters and faded flyers for long-gone events. To set the mood, all the windows were covered, sunlight blocked out, and just a few strands of string lights glowed. I’m pretty nearsighted—couldn’t see much.

After following the front-desk attendant through several twists and turns, she stopped in front of a small door.

In the flicker of candlelight, she gave us a strange smile: "This is the room for the ‘Maple Heights Academy’ beta."

"Just so you know, this script doesn’t have a host (GM) or actors. You just need to play according to the scripts I’ll hand out in a second."

She pushed open the door. Inside was a small room done up like an old study, a big table in the center.

The young woman picked up a stack of scripts from the table and handed them out to us. Once everyone had one, she stepped out and stood at the door:

"The event’s about to start. All secrets will be revealed, and the truth will come to light."

"Have fun!"

CLICK! The door locked from the outside.

The oldest of us, Marcus Evans, sitting next to me, muttered, "Pretty atmospheric."

I nudged him: "It’s all about the mood."

He grinned, shaking his head: "You punk!"

Seeing that Marcus and I were about to start fooling around, Parker quickly separated us: "Hey, hey, hey! Sit down! We’re playing a game now!"

I shrugged and found a seat. A sweet scent drifted by—probably her perfume—and when I turned, I saw a short-haired woman in a bubblegum-pink top and short skirt flipping through her script.

It was Travis’s girlfriend, Lila Monroe.

With no host, Parker had to act as our temporary leader. He told us to look at the first part of our character script (sheet).

"Just a heads-up—if it says not to look ahead, don’t peek!"

I looked down and opened my character script (sheet).

It started with the story background.

I was a student at the academy—Jake Foster.

For the first round, we introduced our characters one by one.

Marcus played the gentle, polished senior. I was the straight-arrow junior. Parker was a poet. Travis was a laid-back athlete. Lila, Travis’s girlfriend, was a gentle, elegant young woman.

We all had one thing in common: we knew a girl named "April White."

Parker said confidently, "If nothing crazy happens, April’s about to have an ‘accident.’"

Sure enough, turning to the second part, after a gathering at the academy, April was dead.

She jumped from Liberty Tower and died instantly.

My script said:

"After tonight, you’ll leave the academy for the state competition finals tomorrow. But you feel reluctant, still worried about April. Late at night, you go to April’s dorm to say goodbye. In front of Liberty Tower, a crescent moon hangs in the sky, moonlight bright. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a leaf drifting down from the tower, landing with a loud ‘thud.’

As you get closer, you realize it’s not a leaf—it’s April, covered in blood."

I immediately caught the key takeaway:

Jake Foster wasn’t the killer. At most, just a witness.

Damn. I sighed in disappointment.

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