I thought my friends had each other’s backs, but then I realized one of us had a knife…

Initial Suspicions

I always thought my friends had each other’s backs until I realized one of us had a knife. It was always the six of us, inseparable since freshman year of college.

Until Roxy went missing on a Sunday night. She left for Boba at 8:00 p.m. and nobody’s heard from her since.

3 days later, city police opened a missing person case. It made no sense.

Literally the night before we were dying, laughing at her terrible karaoke, planning our spring break trip to the beach in the group chat. She was our spark, the one who’d facetime you from outside your dorm until you let her in because we’re getting food and you’re coming.

Without her, we all retreated to our rooms and the group chat became just shared Tik Toks with no replies. After a couple weeks went by, our group tried to reconnect, but Connor wouldn’t talk about that night.

He was the last person with her. They’d gone for boba together around 8:00 p.m., but anytime someone brought it up, he’d shut down.

“I already told the cops everything,” he’d say, then changed the subject or leave the room. It never sat right with me.

Then Connor started ghosting us completely. His Instagram told a different story, though.

Parties every night, beer pong championships, spring break trips like nothing happened. He’d take days to reply to our messages or just leave us on Red.

The group assumed Connor was just hurt the most. On that karaoke night, he’d confessed his love to Roxy for like the 10th time, right there in front of everyone.

She gave him the same gentle rejection as always. “You know, I love you, just not like that”.

He laughed it off and ordered another round, but we all knew how much he actually loved her. Connor kept ghosting us, but there was one thing that would make him respond instantly.

The thought of searching for Roxy. We’d plan search parties in the group chat and suddenly he’d break his silence.

“You’re wasting your time”. “She probably doesn’t want to be found”.

We’d share missing person flyers and within seconds, “this is obsessive”. “Just let her go”.

When her parents came to campus, he was conveniently too sick to meet them. Weeks later, I bumped into Connor at a party.

He was wasted, stumbling around. When he spotted me, he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me close, his breath wreaking of vodka.

“You know what’s funny?” He slurred. “Everyone thinks she’s so perfect, but perfect people don’t just disappear”.

“Maybe she finally went somewhere she actually wanted to be”. The way he said it, like he knew exactly where Roxy was.

This was the last straw. I had to tell the others.

The group thought I was paranoid. “He’s depressed”.

Nicole said, “People say weird things when they’re grieving”. Richard agreed, saying he loved her.

He’s probably just hammered and spiraling. But then Nicole said we couldn’t just leave him alone like this.

Even if Connor was pushing everyone away, we needed to make sure he was okay. That’s what real friends do.

They show up, especially when someone’s hurting. That Saturday afternoon, we drove to his house unannounced.

When Connor cracked the door open, Richard pushed past him. Connor looked panicked.

We said we were worried about him, just wanted to make sure he was okay. He kept insisting we needed to leave, saying he was exhausted, hadn’t been sleeping, just needed to lie down.

That’s when we heard a thud from below the ground. Connor went white.

He blamed it on his neighbor moving furniture and said the walls were thin, but Connor lived on the ground floor. The only thing below him was the basement.

He was getting more desperate, practically shoving us toward the door. That’s when I noticed two sets of dishes in his sink, two glasses on the counter, two jackets on the hook.

Connor lived completely alone. We left Connor’s house, but something felt deeply wrong.

The group huddled outside and I kept bringing up the dishes, the basement noise, his panic. “Guys, there’s clearly something wrong here,” I insisted.

But everyone seemed relieved we’d finally checked on him. “See, he’s alive, just grieving,” Nicole said, almost cheerful.

“The poor guy probably has a hookup over”. Richard patted my shoulder like I’d been proven wrong.

“Connor’s always been weird about his space”. “At least we tried”.

Even the thud from the basement became a joke. “Old buildings make noise”. Jade laughed.

“Connor’s clearly grieving”. “We did our part as friends”.

They were all so satisfied we’d been good friends. “Check the box”. “Case closed”.

But I couldn’t shake that thud we’d heard. That night, I couldn’t sleep.

I kept thinking about Roxy, about Connor’s behavior, about those two glasses. At 3:00 a.m., I made a decision.