The Mystery of the Missing

The Mistake

The boy is first to arrive on stage, placed at the far right end of it, farthest from me. Then the young girl, place smack in the center. Followed by me, I'm placed on the far left. The three of us skim our eyes over the crowd, most likely wondering what we're going to have to do in front of them, and whether it'll be scarring or not. 

"Now, girl, boy, and child, what are your names?" He questions. That was extremely rude. If I was that young and doing this right now, I'd be bawling already. I didn't have thick skin, but now I do. She's brave.

I watch as the microphone is shoved into the boy's face. He flinches for a moment. I would too, with that man-beast next to me.

"Jack." He whispers. Jack. Now I can stop calling him 'the boy' in my head.

The man dressed in black with the lip ring swirls around, making his way to the girl. She turns her head and glares at him as he puts the microphone to her face.

"Well? Speak." He encourages.

She shakes her head, no matter how many times he tells her to. Then, she motions him to come closer. He hesitates for a moment, then leans in toward her. She whispers something into his ear, and soon the guy is bursting out in laughter. It's an evil laugh, to match the rest of his appearance.

"Hey," He starts, "She says, that she doesn't want to talk, because you all scare her!" He continues laughing, the rest of the mob joining in. I don't blame her, honestly. Some of the people out in the crowd looked as if they were specially chosen from a frightening video game. One boy that catches my eye at this moment has a pointed Mohawk going across his entire head, gelled to be black at the tips of his blonde hair. I've seen the face before, the face without deep eyeliner and a spiked head. He's one of the senior boys sitting at the table the teacher was by today. Nobody here looks like this round the clock.

I allow my sight to drift back to the girl, who I can now tell is one the verge of bawling. Her lip is quivering, and she's trying her best to keep a straight face.

The man takes a large sigh, once again hovering the microphone in front of her face. For a few moments, everything is silent. The only thing we all hear is the slow breathing of the girl, her little puffs collecting in the microphone.

"Alice." She states, slowly and firmly, "Now can we move on?" 

Her voice shakes a bit on the last sentence. If I were stupid, I would think that it was from being so angry, like the rest of these people probably do. But no, I have a brain. I know that it was from fear. Though, if I actually used my brain every once in awhile, I may not even be here.

This man with the devilish image journeys over to me ever so slowly. The second the microphone is in my face, I wish I could run. But I can't. The men and women guarding the sides of the stage  scare me too much.

I just want to get this over with before I collapse.

"Tori."

"Now that was simple, wasn't it?" He asks, which is enough to scare me out of my skin.

"Yes." 

He turns toward Alice, her eyes focused on him. He stares at her for a slight moment before  motioning back to her. He moves her out of the way a little, and takes her spot of center stage. She puts her hands in her pockets. A trooper.

"I, my initiates, am Merlin. be sure to remember that name, because I am not one for repeating myself." He looks toward the three of us to be sure we're listening. I nod, even though I don't think I had a need to.

"Initiation is very, very simple. At least, it is if you have a strong stomach and can see blood without vomiting."

Now he's scaring the crap out of me. I feel my face flush.

He swings a pocket knife out of his pocket, raising as high in the air as his arm will allow him. He presses a button, releasing the blade. 

"This," He says, lowering the knife and fiddling with it in his open hand, "Is initiation."

It was a mistake ever coming here.