PFR Lore

3 - white lies

'Police? POLICE?' Cynthia thought to herself, tensing up.

'Why are the police here?'

Another knock emitted from the door, a bit harder this time.

It gave a warning that whomever lied in the home needed to answer, and answer now.

Chevy, thinking quickly, placed a cool hand on Cynthia's, giving a small squeeze.

Cynthia abandoned her gaze at the menacing door and slowly turned her attention to Chevy.

"Don't worry." Chevy explained.

"I've had my share of college parties to know my way around these things. Act natural." She whispered, getting up from her seat and walking towards the door.

Cynthia almost choked on her words, frantically shaking her head.

Before opening it, Chevy gave a quick look to Cynthia, warning her that her nervous nature would be the death of them both.

"North Charleston police department, I'm officer Kyle. I got a report from the owner down at that 7eleven about a woman by the name of Cynthia Jones. Some sort of assault." The officer handed over a small id card to the woman.

It showed a mugshot photo of Cynthia.

She looked rough and solemn.

She held black numbers that matched the purple-green bruise forming on her cheek.

It definitely looked fresh.

Chevy almost let out a smirk with how different the photo and Cynthia's present self were.

For starters, the photo showed Cynthia with a choppy and poor excuse of a balayage.

Cynthia now had chestnut brown hair.

Cynthia had worn very bright and party-girl cosmetics.

Cynthia now wore more modest and bold makeup.

It was definitely something Chevy would joke about when they weren't in hot water.

Handing back the photo, she gave a puzzled look to the man.

"I am her roommate. Been for 2 years. Can you elaborate on assault?"

Completely ignoring her question, the police had found his lead.

She was her roommate and would know about her whereabouts most likely.

"Is she home by any chance? If you don't mind, I'd like to ask her a few questions." The officer returned his eyes back to the woman painted in orange of the ongoing sunset.

"The owner of the station is also considering pressing charges, so—"

'Some questions. You've already bombarded me with enough, don't you think?' Chevy thought to herself.

She then sucked cold air into her teeth and looked at the officer with angry eyes.

Quickly, her facial expression went from confused and serene to irritated and pissed.

It was like she had put on some sort of mask.

"Oh yeah? Did he also tell you she prostitutes herself? Unbelievable." Chevy snapped back at the officer, placing a hand on her hip and using the other to shield her face from the harsh sunlight.

"I've known Cynthia for 8 years and she's done nothing but be a good friend to me. I came to her hungry, fresh out of high school, and with no real aspiration or hope for myself." Chevy looked into the distance, adding a dramatic tone to her lie.