Peyton Griffin. Bryce Gibson. Elizabeth King. You’ve heard their names--but how well did you know them?
For this task, we would like each character to write about their relationship with the missing students. We want you to be as creative as possible with this. This can be a self para or a collection of memories your muse has of the character. Perhaps entries in a journal, or on a blog. It could be an untrustworthy narrative of your muse looking back on how they knew the victims. The important thing here is to make sure that it reflects your muse, and includes how they knew at least one of the victims in question. Were they perhaps friends, or just the person who sat behind them? Did they fall for Bryce’s charms, or were they just another victim of his rage? Were they one of Elizabeth’s admirers or perhaps they saw the iron lurking just beneath the surface? Did they fear Peyton for all she was, or were they one of the few who were allowed to see all that she failed to become?
the stage was always too big. from the first time junho stepped foot on it in high school, and right in this very moment. the difference? never before had junho felt like the stage was missing something. was broken, or shattered or wrong. but here at fairfield prep, nothing was whole. especially not the theatre department. junho paused in the middle of the stage, looking out at the sea of seats. empty now - but were usually filled to the brim, waiting in anticipation to see what masterpiece they would get to witness on stage.
that masterpiece was typically elizabeth king.
his bottom lip trembled at he looked down at the white tape on the floor. it was there for marking, for the actors to know where to stand. he remembers elizabeth pointing to it, nudging a girl in the spot and telling her exactly what she was doing wrong. junho’s hand a smoothed over elizabeth’s shoulder, and told her to relax. he was met with a huff, before he demeanor changed, and suddenly the girl she was just talking down to became a best friend.
she was like that. a light switch. her facade was easily believable by most, but junho saw right through her. he was an actor, like her. he was living a fake life, like her. he saw so much in the little diva, that they had formed a close bond. sarcastic comments, and lunches in his classroom. private lessons, and guidance. elizabeth never let anyone see her at less than a hundred, neither did junho. and together, they helped refine each other’s defensive natures.
he felt like he was responsible.
he noticed she was off. more stressed, more tense. she was falling apart, crumbling, and was nothing like her usual self. it pained him to watch, but junho treated her as he usually did. he pushed her. they didn’t talk about anything. there were moment when he saw the weight on her shoulders bringing her down, but the most he would do was squeeze her shoulder, or cover her hand in his. he never forced to her to talk.
but he shoulder have.
his hand comes up to his eyes, rubbing gently and wiping the tears that brimmed eyes. how was he supposed to teach this semester? any semester when he failed as an educator? he was supposed to protect the kids here, and he had done the opposite. peyton, bryce, elizabeth. they were gone, missing, no traces, no leads. and now he was supposed to go on with his life like elizabeth wasn’t just commanding a crowd with her voice a few months ago. like she wasn’t editing the script, and getting junho to make adjustments to the script, bickering back and forth with him.
he sniffled, dabbing his eyes gently as he gave one last look at the empty seats before he continued across the stage. he wasn’t surprised he was here, losing parts of himself again, failing at his one job. he’d done a lot of screwing up in his life, he just hoped that elizabeth king wasn’t going to be tragic story, another warning or cautionary tale.
he hoped that he wouldn’t have her blood on his hands. because the guilt was already tearing through him.
