Writer Games: The Final Twist & A Night in Wattpad Manor & Faction Wattpad

Motive to Kill: Females

One: Penelope Lockheart

I knew the man  on the floor; his blank eyes were staring blankly up at the ceiling. Of  course, by now, another person has joined him, out in the hallway, an  unnamed person who I frankly do not wish to know the name of.
What  strikes me speechless is the man in front of me, his eyes glazed over,  his smile still plastered on his face. Now, there are two very good  reasons why I myself am very disturbed at this. One: this man did not  seem to be at the party beforehand, and two: I never thought I would see  his face again.
Now, more on the man afterwards, because there is quite a ruckus beginning and I would quite like to watch without interrupting.
Inspector  Graham, as he calls himself, has already called out multiple people  into the large sitting room, the only noise emanating coming from the  large brass door which creaks open and closed every time someone walks  in or out.
Three people have already walked in and  out of the door so far, each of their expressions showing quite clearly  their reactions- the two of the first ones showing an expression of  nervousness and the third of an evil glint in their eye.
As  Essie, the blind girl whom I have grown a liking to, comes out from the  doors- the fourth so far- she motions towards where I am sitting,  undisturbed by the others, and walks over to me, informing me that I  should go inside the room.
As I stand up, Essie  takes my seat, and, brushing off my skirt, I walk tall into the large  room. Detective Graham sits in one of the two plush armchairs moved so  he faces the other one, and, taking my cue I step directly inside the  room, and shut the large door, moving swiftly over and taking a seat  across from the man.
He coughs, a handkerchief  flying out from his pocket. I stare at him- his appearance doesn't  strike me as very professional, a cheap suit with a clip-on tie, I begin  to wonder why he is here tonight- maybe he was promised a raise?
As  the handkerchief is replaced into his pocket, he looks up at me. "Ms.  Lockheart, I presume you know why you are in here?" he says, his head  tilted, his fingers fiddling with his watch on his wrist. I look up to  face him eye-to-eye, my eyes having drifted into my lap. "Yes Sir, I  think so."
"So, tell me then, how did you know this  man in the dining hall? Why, as I can tell, did you want them dead?"  Detective Graham says, his bushy moustache muffling his words a tad. I  take a deep breath. I don't want to remember this man, it was too long  ago, memories of my past self, of what I wish never to remember. But I  have to.
And so I tell him. The man, his name being  Charlie Frierton, I had last seen on the chilly June night of my  secondary school graduation. Never spoke to him since that event  happened. You see, we were always neck in neck at school, we always  fought for the best marks, each of us battling with each other every  chance we got. We didn't want the other to beat us, you know?
I  managed to always fall short of the boy by at the most of one percent.  One percent and he would boast. We both excelled in all subjects, and we  both were fighting for top marks of our final year. My final year I was  sure I would manage to snag the prize which had been snatched from me  for the last three years by him. I knew it, I could almost taste the  victory. The scores were so close between us, but I knew I always got a  little better than him.
But then came time for  graduation, the awards were being presented. I had already claimed a  full scholarship to my University of choice, but I was still determined  for that one prize that haunted me. It was one of the last ones, and as the ceremony dragged on, I became increasingly nervous and fidgety.

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Two: Mellissande Fleur Vanar

"So Mellissande," the Inspector begins from the couch across from me.
"Its Melina," I correct.
A  sigh escapes me. The last thing I want to do is sit in this wretched  living room and explain to the Inspector what he clearly already knows  about me. However, I don't really have a choice considering doing  anything but coming clean about everything he wants to know will make me  look guilty.
I rub my belly. Baby Dumbo, I think, I hope you never get into as much trouble as I.
The Inspector rolls his eyes. "Okay, Melina. How do you know the victim?"
"Which victim?" I ask vaguely, my mind still on Baby Dumbo.
"The  first victim. Mr. Edward Casserark. You never met any of the other  victims before tonight. That is true yes?" The Inspector clarifies. He  reminds me of someone in a movie I saw once, but I can't put my finger  on it.
I pay attention now. "That's right."
Who does he remind me of? That face, that voice, that attitude....He reminds me so much of someone...actually, two people.
"How do you know him?"
"Who?" I am puzzled.
"Edward Casserack!" The Inspector's voice is raised in frustration.
"Oh right," I say quickly, hoping he'll calm down. I don't want my baby to hear shouting.
The Inspector is coldly quiet, waiting for me to continue. I don't like it. He's a cat, and I'm the bird.
Wait! I remember who he reminds me of now! General slash Inspector Zaroff slash Javert. I always get those two mixed up.
But  I talk anyway, "I was seventeen when I met Edward. I never really knew  much of him at first: to me he was simply the college boy that was  hanging out with my best friend's older brother.