Justin James Albia and John Robert Madrona

“Where do I start?”

The question hangs, not as a plea, but as an echo — fragile, broken, and already unraveling. Uttered by Sam in the opening moments of When the End Begins, it lands like a warning. From the very start, the audience is made to feel what lies ahead isn’t a story to follow, but a descent to witness.


Performed on May 5 and 9, 2025, at the University of the Visayas – Toledo City Campus, this production, organized by the UVTCC English Club, offered more than just a performance — it became a shared reckoning. The play does not ask for empathy; it demands confrontation. It pulls the audience through the fractured landscape of a mind struggling to survive its own unraveling. Reality blurs. Truth warps. And beneath it all simmers something unspeakable — grief so dense it festers into rage.

When the End Begins doesn’t simply open a door into Sam’s world. It forces you to walk through it. It dares you to look away.

A night of horror, a lifetime of revenge, and one shocking truth

The story begins in a dilapidated classroom, where Sam, played with aching vulnerability by Jane Ave Capuyan, is left alone to confront her memories. The room is a metaphor for the state of her mind: cluttered, empty, and full of remnants of a past she can't escape. Through her eyes, the audience is transported back five years to a school fundraising event, a night that was meant to be ordinary but quickly spirals into horror.

Sam attends the event with her best friend Tanya, portrayed by Shane Acquiat, unaware that the night will soon unravel their lives. The trio of boys — Bryan (John Lorenzo Encabo), Thomas (Kyle Vergara), and Matt (Xhavier Look Cantalejo) — are the embodiment of the sinful deeds of wealth, privilege, and unaccountability. They lure the girls into a nightmarish scenario where their drinks are spiked, and what follows is not just betrayal, but a violation of their bodies and trust. Tanya’s brief moments of consciousness are met with resistance and violence, culminating in her death at the hands of Thomas. Sam, who awakens to this horror, struggles to fight back, but in her attempt to escape, she is further victimized by Bryan.

However, the horror does not end there. In a shocking twist, Ms. Tina (Shandarra Yu), their homeroom teacher, enters the scene, witnessing the aftermath yet choosing silence, turning away from the violence. The tragedy unfolds, but Sam, though physically free, carries the invisible scars of that night into her present.

Five years later, Sam, now working at a local café, crosses paths unknowingly with the trio once again. She has spent these years consumed with anger and revenge. She has turned her trauma into a weapon. With cold precision, Sam lures the boys back to the same abandoned classroom where their horrors first began. Here, she stages a cruel reenactment, setting up a camera to capture their reactions as they are forced to relive their actions, believing they are witnessing another assault.

But the truth, as it so often does in this play, reveals itself in the most unexpected of ways. As the boys react to the livestream of the fabricated assault, the moment becomes a sickening repeat of the violence that once trapped Sam in its grip. However, in the final moments, it’s revealed Tanya never existed. She was a figment of Sam's mind, a creation built out of her need to shield herself from her trauma and fabricate a world where she wasn’t alone.

As Sam’s plot reaches its devastating conclusion, the audience is left to wrestle with the implications of her actions. The haunting truth comes not from what was done to her, but from the painful realization Sam was both the victim and the architect of her own destruction.

A vision of chaos, a script of pain

The vision behind this unraveling belongs to director Jhay-ar A. Book, who shapes the chaos with a deliberate, almost surgical precision. Under his guidance, the play becomes more than a performance. It becomes a reckoning.

The book doesn’t give the audience clarity or comfort. Instead, he builds a world that feels too real, too raw, and far too close. As both the club's adviser and a theatrical arts instructor, his guidance is both intimate and unflinching, insisting that this story be told without delay.

But the voice of the play doesn’t rest on one mind alone. Playwrights Christine Joy Entero, Charlene Shane Canubas, Leila Ares, and Athena Justine Satorre wrote a script that breathes pain and memory into every scene. Their writing is restrained, yet ruthless, allowing emotion to simmer beneath the surface until it erupts. It’s not just a script but also a mirror fractured by trauma, and the audience is forced to look into every broken piece.

Veteran-level performances

It’s remarkable to note that the cast of When the End Begins consists primarily of students majoring in BS Education - English, yet their performances are nothing short of veteran-level. These young actors, still in the formative stages of their academic careers, managed to bring a profound emotional depth to their roles, demonstrating not only technical skill but an innate understanding of the characters’ psyches.

Jane Ave Capuyan, in the role of Sam, transforms from a student performer to a powerhouse. Her portrayal of Sam is visceral, raw, and heartbreakingly authentic — traits not typically expected from someone early in their career. Her ability to shift from rage to sorrow, from confusion to calculated vengeance, is a testament to her ability to tap into something deeply human. Capuyan’s portrayal of trauma is unflinching, and her command of the stage leaves a lasting impression, far beyond what one might expect from an actor still studying.

Similarly, Shane Acquiat as Tanya brings an emotional maturity to the role. Tanya’s character, though limited in her time on stage, leaves a haunting presence throughout the play. Acquiat’s subtlety in portraying innocence and vulnerability elevates her character’s significance. She shows a quiet strength, and in doing so, made Tanya's eventual absence all the more poignant.

The trio of boys are equally captivating. Encabo’s portrayal of Bryan is chilling; his cold, calculated demeanor makes the audience squirm in discomfort. His ability to embody entitlement and privilege, without overacting, shows a level of restraint that is hard to find even in seasoned professionals. Vergara and Cantalejo also shine in their roles, with Vergara’s Thomas evoking a sense of emotional turmoil beneath his arrogance, while Cantalejo’s Matt embodies the toxic silence of complicity with unsettling precision.

The performance of Shandarra Yu as Ms. Tina, though relatively understated, is a strong proof that, indeed, “silence is best served with a quiet intensity.” That, ladies and gentlemen, made her role chillingly real, proving that acting is as much about restraint as it is about expression.

Ferland Elladora, in the role of Brenda, brings a much-needed balance to the intense and dark themes of the play. As Sam’s co-worker, Brenda injects moments of levity and warmth into an otherwise heavy atmosphere. Elladora’s performance is radiant with charm, and her ability to infuse joy into her character’s interactions offers the audience brief, albeit fleeting, moments of relief. Brenda’s playful yet grounded demeanor serves as a foil to Sam’s internal chaos; her lightness contrasts beautifully with the tragedy surrounding her, reminding us that even in the bleakest moments, there’s a room for human connection.

Ronnagen Provida as Martha delivers a quietly heartbreaking performance — a mother who claims to know her daughter inside and out, yet remains painfully unaware of the turmoil raging beneath the surface. Provida captures the tragic irony of a parent blinded by love: Martha believes she and Sam are close because of their daily conversations, never realizing  what Sam shares is nothing more than a carefully constructed fiction. Her love is real, but it is surface-level — a comfort rooted in routine, not understanding. Provida plays this contradiction with subtlety, her warmth tinged with naivety, making Martha a figure both endearing and devastating. Her insistence that she knows her daughter becomes an echo of denial, one that lingers long after the final curtain.

It is clear that their training and commitment have made them not just students, but artists in the truest sense of the word. Despite their status as undergraduates, they have proven to us that talent and passion can flourish in unexpected places.

A stage that breathes emotion

The stage design in When the End Begins plays a pivotal role in anchoring the audience within the fractured world of Sam’s psyche. Five distinct sets take the audience on an emotional journey through time and memory, each one contributing to the dark atmosphere of the play while deepening the themes of grief, loss, and vengeance.

The Graveyard set, though sparse in its design, evokes a sense of finality and burial. The chilling emptiness of the space mirrors Sam's inner turmoil, where death is not only a physical end but also a metaphorical one. The coldness of the gravestones, coupled with a muted color palette, ensures the audience feels the weight of loss hanging heavily in the air — both literal and emotional.

The Cafe set, where Sam works, offers a sharp contrast to the graveyard. In this space, we see Sam in her day-to-day life, seemingly more grounded, but still carrying the weight of the past. The Cafe, though not a place of true warmth, gives the impression of a space where time is stagnant, and the walls seem to close in on Sam. The subtle lighting and muted tones here convey a sense of entrapment, a reflection of Sam’s emotional state as she confronts the ghosts of her past while serving coffee to oblivious patrons.

The Abandoned Room serves as one of the most pivotal sets, representing both a literal and psychological space of torment. This room is where Sam’s memories, twisted and painful, are reconstructed. It’s dark, disheveled, and filled with remnants of a violent past — its decaying state reflects the emotional decay Sam experienced. The Abandoned Room doesn't just house the violence of the past; it’s a physical manifestation of Sam’s fragmented mind. The starkness of the room, with its sparse furniture and oppressive atmosphere, mirrors the horror that transpired within its walls.

The School set is a haunting return to Sam’s place of origin. It carries the weight of memories both good and bad, but as the play unfolds, it’s clear that this is a space irrevocably altered by trauma. The design subtly shifts to reflect the passage of time — the walls may feel familiar, yet they now hold the ghosts of Sam’s past, as if the building itself is complicit in the horrors that happened within it.

Lastly, Sam and her Mother’s House set is a place of domesticity tainted by fractured relationships. This space, though more familiar and seemingly comforting, is laced with tension and emotional abuse. The house represents Sam’s inability to escape her past, where every corner is laden with reminders of her failures and her mother’s harsh judgment. The design of the space is simple but suffocating, with stark lighting emphasizing the emotional distance between Sam and her mother, further highlighting the isolation Sam feels.

The production behind the masterpiece

When the End Begins is brought to life by a powerhouse of creative minds. Behind the scenes, a team of passionate creatives turns this vision into a raw and unforgettable experience.

Khobe Mc Bryl Navarro brings texture and depth to every scene with powerful creative direction. He ensures that the emotional weight of each moment is felt through the design and flow of the stage.

Kent Lloyd Hornales sculpts light and sound into emotion, using both to heighten the tension in each scene and reflect the characters’ inner turmoil. Kris Anne Taboada utilizes wardrobe and makeup not just to dress the characters, but to show their transformation. Supporting all of this is the seamless work of the logistics team, led by Christian Rafols, whose coordination ensured that every element came together smoothly, from set transitions to prop management, allowing the creative vision to unfold without disruption. Their precision and behind-the-scenes dedication made the intensity onstage possible.

Together, these design elements and the creative team’s efforts ensure the set is not merely a backdrop but an active participant in the storytelling. The physical space reflects the psychological unraveling of Sam’s mind, with every corner, prop, and lighting choice adding to the dark and oppressive atmosphere. Each set shifts and evolves, serving as both a visual and emotional extension of the characters’ inner struggles, making the stage an integral character in the story's unfolding.

This production pulls no punches, challenging its audience with a narrative that forces them to confront uncomfortable truths, not just about the characters, but about the world they inhabit.

In the end, When the End Begins is not just a theatrical performance — it is a testament to the strength of storytelling and the emotional power of live theater, inviting its audience to wrestle with the darker corners of the human experience.