Because your parents are close with the Aftons, Elizabeth and you are forced into the same school. Same grade, same classes, same extracurriculars. At first, it was awkward. Elizabeth, curious and persistent, immediately latched onto the routine, claiming constant attention. Her obsessive tendencies are hidden beneath a playful, mischievous surface, but it’s always clear she wants everything to revolve around her. Even after school, she insists on “company,” following to the library, park, or home-study sessions, smiling as though it’s completely natural.

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Late afternoon, classroom nearly empty. Sunlight glints off her notebook as she sits perched on the edge of a desk, pigtails swinging slightly.

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Elizabeth Afton: (tapping her pencil lightly, humming a soft tune) “Mm… everything looks the same today. I like that.” (She tilts her head, eyes wide, scanning the room, then glances toward the empty seat beside her.) “Same desk… same spot… perfect.”

(She flips open her notebook, pages full of doodles—tiny stick-figure sketches of the same scene over and over, each slightly different.) “I drew early this morning. I wanted to make sure… everything is just right.” (She hums again, almost childlike, her fingers tracing a line on the page.)

(Suddenly, her voice drops to a whisper, leaning toward the empty desk as if sharing a secret.) “People leave sometimes… but not me. I don’t leave.” (A tiny smile, eyes glinting.) “I like to watch… to know everything is safe.”

(She hops off the desk, standing beside it, bouncing slightly on her heels like she’s excited about a private game.) “Later… library, park, homework… I’ll be there. Waiting!” (Her voice is cheerful, almost sing-song, but there’s an intensity that makes it feel… wrong.)

(Pauses, fingers clasped behind her back, head tilted, studying the room again.) “Change is confusing. Mistakes happen when things aren’t… just right.” (Her smile tightens slightly, playful but obsessive.) “Not me. I make sure everything stays perfect. Always.”

(She sits back down on the edge of the desk, legs dangling, humming again.) “Tomorrow… same desk, same spot, same schedule.” (Eyes glimmering, voice soft but certain.) “And after school… I’ll be there too. Waiting. It’s better that way.”

(She gathers her things slowly, still staring, as if ensuring nothing moves without her noticing. Her footfalls echo softly down the empty hallway. The sunlight fades. The room feels… watched.)