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by Zachary Murdock (zacharybednar90@gmail.com)

Rated: PG-13   Genre: Horror   User Review:

Written for fun.

This screenplay is copyrighted to its author. All rights reserved. This screenplay may not be used or reproduced without the express written permission of the author.


Two characters sit across from each other in two chairs.
One's a love seat, the other is a bit more practical and

Just imagine what you think a therapist's office would like
and you get the idea of the setting. Think of the pictures
of family members on the desk, the lights slightly dimmed as
if by mood to paint the atmosphere.

Think of the carpet, immaculately kept clean, which
shouldn't be hard because no one has even so much as dropped
a crumb on it in all the years of its existence.

Think of the psychology books on the shelves. Think of how
long they have stood there untouched.

Think of our backdrop: the couch. A couch that no patient
would ever be caught dead sitting on, which is why she
bought the love seat. To sit on the couch is such a cliche,
that it would serve no other purpose than to admit defeat.

Think of the simple chair the THERAPIST is perched on. Her
back straight and her eyes fluttering. There is a sense of
unease in her face, those tired lines of age are beginning
to become too much for her to hide with intellect and
make-up. She has just reached the fifty-year mark and she
isn't very happy about it. But there's something else about
her demure that's most puzzling, she is fidgeting about, but
always finds herself in the same stiff and uncomfortable

Think of the love seat that the DESPERATE MAN is sitting on.
He is slumped over, his hair is ratty, and he could use a
shave. His breathing, erratic, and he is shaking ever so
softly. He looks like he can't be much older than thirty
years old, but his eyes look so much younger than that.

But in your mind, you should already have an idea of how the
office should look. Incredibly average in a showbiz kind of
And now. Our story begins.
Is there something you want to say
to me?


                       DESPERATE MAN
I don't know.
You have to say something. It's
been thirty-five minutes of
silence and I don't believe I can
stomach much more of it.
                       DESPERATE MAN
I really wish you wouldn't be so
I'm not trying to be demanding.
I'm trying to help you. I'm trying
to help us get somewhere.
The DESPERATE MAN looks around the office.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Have you read all these books?
      (with a sigh)
Books? You want to talk about my
                       DESPERATE MAN
You got a lot of 'em. It's like a
library in here.
Yes. I own a lot of books because
I am in a profession that requires
me to read a lot of books. They
are not here for show but for
reference. Does that satisfy you?
What would you like to talk about
next? How about the pictures on my
desk? Or how long I've been a
therapist? My sex life might
interest you, my patients sure
can't stop prying into it. Let's
talk about how therapy's a lie and
you hate your mother. Am I missing
anything? Can you think of any
other cliche that you would like
to bore me with?
Her eyes get narrow.


No. None of my patients are
celebrities and I don't associate
with any aspect of the criminal
element. My patients are upper
crust average types and none of
them are mobsters or porn stars or
rock gods.
She releases a long sigh.
Are you Frank?
He looks confused.
She warned me about this in our
last session.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Who did what?
Scarlett said you might show up
and try to scare me out of it. But
you touched her wrong, Frank. I
had no other choice.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Wait a second. I'm not Frank.
Then who are you?
                       DESPERATE MAN
I'm not entirely sure. My chest
hurts. It hurts to breathe.
Would you like me to write you a
The DESPERATE MAN puts his hand on his chest to level out
his breathing.

She watches him. Her eyes gaze at his other hand. At
something in it.

He closes his eyes to level out his breathing and contain
the pain that that comes from it.


When he opens them back up, he sees what she's staring at
and grins faintly.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Oh, this?
He raises his other hand up and shoves the GUN he is holding
into his mouth.

The THERAPIST cringes and tries to turn her head away.

It is now revealed that she is TIED and BOUND to the chair.
This is all happening at gunpoint.
The DESPERATE MAN frightens her on purpose. Menacingly.

Then he takes the gun out of his mouth and keeps it pointed
at her.
Now his smile is unmistakable.
                       DESPERATE MAN
I don't know who I am, and I don't
know how I got here. But I have
the gun. I guess it's good to be
me, whoever that is. Rather me
than you.
Would you say that you suffer from
                       DESPERATE MAN
I don't understand.
You mentioned having chest pains,
difficulty breathing. These could
all be stemming from an unchecked
anxiety disorder.
                       DESPERATE MAN
And how about my loss of memory?
How about the gun in my hand that
I didn't know was there until I
looked down at it? How about the
fact that I don't know who I am?
I'm not even sure if I ever had a
name to forget.


It might not be what you think of
when you imagine how an anxiety
attack would feel, but the
symptoms you're displaying are
telling of one.
                       DESPERATE MAN
You think I'm having an anxiety
Could be. Severe attacks are rare
but they do happen. As with
nervous breakdowns and manic
hysteria as well. You need help.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Why am I here?
I can't answer that for you.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Do you think maybe I read an ad
for you in the paper, and since I
had all of these problems, I
decided to come here and see if
you could help me?
That would make sense if you
didn't bring a gun with you.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Why did I tie you up?
Most kidnappers bound their
victims to something. That's the
easiest question to answer.
                       DESPERATE MAN
So you're my hostage?
I'm afraid that's what it looks
                       DESPERATE MAN
Then what do I want?


I have absolutely no idea.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Do you have something I want?
I couldn't possibly think of
anything of mine that you would
want this badly.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Tell me about Frank.
      (with a sigh)
Frank is the fiancÚ of one of my
patients. He is a sexually abusive
and physically violent man.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Why did you think I was Frank? Was
he supposed to come here? You said
he wanted to scare you, right?
What did he want to scare you of?
He wanted to use fear to deter me
from reporting his crimes and
abuse to the local police
                       DESPERATE MAN
What if that's me? What if I'm
him, what if that's the reason I'm
If that's the reason you're here
then you're wasting your time.
                       DESPERATE MAN
You don't get scared?
Not this easy.
The DESPERATE MAN considers the theory being proposed here.


                       DESPERATE MAN
No. I don't think I'm Frank. That
doesn't sound like me. Do you
think that maybe Frank hired me?
You know, to scare you with this?
He jiggles the gun in his hand.
Would you like to know the truth?
                       DESPERATE MAN
Of course.
I think you're fucking with me.
The DESPERATE MAN stares at the carpets.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Did you pick out the color of the
rugs or is some other frazzled old
woman to blame for them?
      (through gritted
Untie me.
                       DESPERATE MAN
She writhes about. But she is bound so secure, she can
hardly move.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Why would I untie you? I obviously
went through a lot of trouble to
tie you to that chair and I'm not
about to let you go until I figure
out why I did it.
She tips the chair over and falls to the ground with a thud.

The DESPERATE MAN groans, stands up, leaves her there as he
walks behind her desk.

He looks at the pictures on top of it.
                       DESPERATE MAN
      (pointing at the
Is this your husband?


She doesn't answer, she just continues to flop about like a
fish out of water.

No way in hell can she break free.
                       DESPERATE MAN
I've seen his face somewhere
He looks up from the picture to watch her struggle.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Will you stop?
She continues to flop, running out of energy to do so.
                       DESPERATE MAN
      (watching her)
Please? You look stupid.
She finally stops. She lays stiff as a board, well, a board
that's tied to a chair.
                       DESPERATE MAN
I think I might know your husband.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Did you hear me? I said I might
know your husband.
Untie me. Now.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Tell me about your husband.
He's dead.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Don't lie to me.
He is. He died eight years ago.
Don't I look younger in that
picture? That was our last
vacation together. Before we got
                       DESPERATE MAN
How did he die?


A disease that goes by many names,
commonly referred to as the
'mid-life crisis'.
The DESPERATE MAN obviously isn't catching on. She spells it
out for him.
He was sleeping with his patients.
All those young freshman college
girls with eating disorders. That
was his specialty. Helping pretty
girls cope.
                       DESPERATE MAN
He died of an STD?
The THERAPIST chuckles on the floor.

She has now positioned herself in such a way that her back
is laying flat on the floor and she is forced to stare up at
the ceiling.

She has a good chuckle though.
Oh, I wish. If only fate had a
fling with justice...
                       DESPERATE MAN
And you were both therapists?
Shrinks are lousy lays. I know
from first and secondhand
                       DESPERATE MAN
How did your husband die? What did
him over?
Me. I guess I did. I got in a
wreck. A bad one. Got clipped on
the driver's side. I hadn't
changed the information on my
health insurance, because after
all, we were only separated. He
never did sign the divorce papers.
The THERAPIST contemplates for a moment before continuing.


My emergency contact came running
to my rescue. But. He never even
made it to his car. When we
separated, I got the house, and he
moved out. He needed to find
someplace that was cheap and
temporary. He found what he was
looking for in the worst part of
the district.
The DESPERATE MAN looks at the photograph, as if trying to
imagine it.
I guess. Well. He must have been
in a hurry, a real rush to get to
me and make sure I was still alive
and that I'd continue to be alive.
He must have been running fast.
She gets silent. Pondering.
                       DESPERATE MAN
What happened to him?
He was noticeably different from
his neighbors. He went to work in
a suit and tie and drove a nice
car and even paid his bills in
advance. He hated noise when he
was trying to sleep. He always
did. The slightest volatile sound
would keep him up all hours of the
night. The drip-drip-dripping of a
leaky faucet was his absolute
nemesis. His mortal enemy on this
She takes a long, contemplative breath.
His neighbors were not of the
quiet variety. He complained a
lot. He thought it was funny. What
he didn't know is that he
complained so much about his next
door neighbor, that when he called
the police to have them quiet him
down, that his neighbor would
figure out who called. 'The stiff
next door'. The kid was only 22
years old. My husband got him


                       THERAPIST (cont'd)
arrested. When the police showed
up to break up the party and make
the noise go away, they found
drugs in the house and on his
person. He found out who called
them. And he was waiting for him
that night. That night I needed
him most.
                       DESPERATE MAN
He was killed.
Stabbed forty two times with a
rusty kitchen knife.
                       DESPERATE MAN
I'm sorry for your loss.
Oh please. It was almost nine
years ago.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Still. Must hurt to think about.
To relive.
I've seen it play out a thousand
times in my mind, I'm bored with
it now. I need a new movie to
                       DESPERATE MAN
Were you hoping I was Frank? Were
you hoping I was here to hurt you?
I don't want you to be Frank. I
don't want you to hurt me either.
I want you to untie me.
                       DESPERATE MAN
You are untied. Stand up.
The THERAPIST looks down on the ground. Not only have the
ropes disappeared, the chair she was tied to has
disappeared as well.

She jolts to her feet.


She looks around the room as if she's all of a sudden gone
I don't know what's going on here,
but you should let me go.
The DESPERATE MAN holds up his hands, showing her how empty
they are.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Miss. I'm not the one with the
That's right. To the THERAPIST'S horror, the gun is firmly
in her hand.

She stares down at it in shock.
                       DESPERATE MAN
      (taking a seat on
       top of the desk)
There's something going on here.
This is all very strange. Very,
very strange.
The THERAPIST pulls the trigger on him. Killing him.

The bullet enters his chest and the force of it flings him
off the desk and into the corner of the room.
The THERAPIST drops the gun on the floor and runs for the

She nearly rips it off it's hinges as she opens it up and
runs through it.
This must be a mirage. She is once again in her office!

No, no, this can't be. She just LEFT her office. But here it
is. Again.
How is this possible???


How is she still in it?

And who's that on the couch?
                       DESPERATE MAN
Doc? We need to have ourselves a


The THERAPIST screams and runs for the door.

She runs through several doors that all lead to several
identical offices. All of them her's and all of them
complete with him alive inside of them.

After about four different cycles of running through doors
to dead ends in the same room, she collapses. She cries out
in confusion and terror. She is trapped. Here. With this
man. Why?
The DESPERATE MAN stands over her.
                       DESPERATE MAN
There's no need for all that.
She recoils and jumps back, against the wall, away from him.
Stay away from me.
                       DESPERATE MAN
I'm not the one doing this, Katie.
Why did you call me that?
                       DESPERATE MAN
Well, that's your name isn't it?
No. My name is not Katie. Did you
just pick that name out of thin
air, consider the odds, and just
fire it at me?
                       DESPERATE MAN
      (sitting on the
There's only one of us who's
firing something at people here.
And it's not me.
Why aren't you dead?
                       DESPERATE MAN
I don't know why. Why can't you


Neither of us can leave, you
idiot. I went through ten
different doors and entered this
same room ten different times.
                       DESPERATE MAN
I know, I was there.
And I shot and killed you. And
yet, you're still here.
                       DESPERATE MAN
We're stuck.
This is a dream.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Maybe. That's a good idea. I can't
argue with it.
Have you ever seen me before this?
                       DESPERATE MAN
Before this dream?
      (stepping away
       from the wall,
       toward the center
       of the room)
This isn't a dream. No matter how
much I wish that it were. It's
not. But there must a reason for
                       DESPERATE MAN
Is this death?
God. I honestly hope not.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Maybe that Frank guy killed you.
Maybe you're Frank.


The DESPERATE MAN points at her, mimes shooting her with a
gun, cocky, with a click of the mouth to provide the sound
Why are we here?
                       DESPERATE MAN
Well, you don't look recognizable
to me.
I don't recognize you either.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Shoot. We may be stuck here
How old are you?
                       DESPERATE MAN
I have no idea.
You look like you would have been
in your early twenties when my
husband was still alive. And you
recognized him. Right?
                       DESPERATE MAN
I didn't kill him if that's what
you're getting at.
Oh stop it. I know who killed my
husband and I know it wasn't you.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Well. I know I wasn't sleeping
with him, so don't even go there.
What about him seemed familiar to
                       DESPERATE MAN
I don't know. His smile, maybe.
Do you even know where you're


                       DESPERATE MAN
I'm afraid I do not.
Then what good are you?
                       DESPERATE MAN
Maybe you've asked enough
questions, Doc. Maybe I don't
remember who I am, because you're
supposed to remember for me. You
have all the memory here, I have
none. If all this is for a reason,
then there must be a reason why I
don't know who I am or where I
come from, all the while, you can
remember exactly what happened to
your husband nine years ago. And I
mean EXACTLY what happened to him.
Right down to most insignificant,
minute detail.
She contemplates this. He knows he's onto something.
                       DESPERATE MAN
So. Let me ask you this, Doc.
She looks up at him. Wavering.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Is there something you want to say
to me?
      (through gritted
I don't know who you are.
The DESPERATE MAN cracks a smile.
                       DESPERATE MAN
That's fine. Why don't you tell me
who you are instead?
She takes a deep breath.
My name is Margaret Shaw. I'm a
therapist, I help people. My
mother was a bank clerk and my
father died at war.


                       DESPERATE MAN
Oh. This is the life story part?
My mother almost died when she
gave birth to me. It was a rough
delivery. When my brother was
born, she said that was easy. He
kind of just popped out. They had
to gut me out of her.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Why was the pregnancy so tough on
The delivery. It was hell. She
said I just didn't want to leave
her. That I liked it in there.
                       DESPERATE MAN
You got any kids of your own?
The THERAPIST shakes her head 'no'.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Why not?
I never wanted one of my own.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Did you just focus on your career
Its not like that. The pain that
can come from losing a child...
                       DESPERATE MAN
Did you ever miscarry?
No. Nothing of that sort. When my
little brother had his baby, his
son. His only son. He named him
Jeremy. God, that was so long ago.
I must have only been twenty years
old. He was still in high school
then. That baby was the cutest
damn thing in all the world. And
he loved him so very much.


                       DESPERATE MAN
What happened to Jeremy?
He died suddenly and without
warning. Horrible thing to happen
to a baby. But it's quite common
actually. It happens so often that
they even have a name for it.
                       DESPERATE MAN
One day, he just stopped
Uh huh. You can say the same thing
about his father, my dear baby
brother. But I'm sure the thirty
or so sleeping pills he took to
kill himself helped an awful lot.
                       DESPERATE MAN
There's a name for that too,
believe it or not.
She looks over at the DESPERATE MAN to see that a lone
streak of blood is flowing from his right eye.
You're bleeding.
The DESPERATE MAN touches the blood on his face with his
fingers and stares at it in disbelief.
There are tissues in the drawer.
The DESPERATE MAN opens the drawer in her desk and finds the
tissues and wipes the blood off his face.
Do you normally bleed out of your
right eye?
                       DESPERATE MAN
Are you normally this sarcastic?
I wasn't being sarcastic.


                       DESPERATE MAN
I don't think anyone 'normally'
bleeds anywhere, Margaret. I may
not know who I am, but I know that
bleeding out of your eyeballs is
usually a bad sign.
She looks him over very carefully and with a lot of
How old do you 'think' you are?
                       DESPERATE MAN
I don't know, early thirties? How
old do I look?
Maybe a little younger than that.
He finishes wiping the blood off his face and tosses the
bloody tissues back in the drawer.
                       DESPERATE MAN
So. Tell me. Are you a religious
person, Margaret?
      (still studying
       him with her eyes)
I'm not religious in any sort of
way that makes sense.
                       DESPERATE MAN
What's that supposed to mean?
I don't believe in any form of the
written God.
                       DESPERATE MAN
But you do believe in him, right?
I don't think so.
                       DESPERATE MAN
What do you think happens to
people like your brother?
People who take their own life?


                       DESPERATE MAN
Do you believe in hell, Margaret?
Do you believe that's where your
brother is, in hell?
No. And I don't like these
                       DESPERATE MAN
What about Jeremy? What do you
think happened to him?
He died. He was a baby and he
died. It's tragic but it happened.
Same goes for my brother. They
lived and they died. End of story.
And my brother has a name by the
way. William Russell Shaw. Billy,
as he liked to be called.
The THERAPIST watches in disbelief as the DESPERATE MAN's
eyes begin to stream blood gushing down his cheeks.
It looks extremely painful. The DESPERATE MAN grabs his
stomach and falls to the floor.
Oh my God.
                       DESPERATE MAN
      (muffled, gurgled)
The THERAPIST rushes over to him and helps him. Tries to
wipe the blood from his face. It is gushing so fast that it
is impossible to stop.
We need to get you to lay down.
The THERAPIST lugs the DESPERATE MAN over to the couch,
dragging him with little of his help.

She pulls him up on the couch.
Everything's going to be fine, you
will be okay.
Once she has him situated on the couch, she goes back for
some tissues and when she turns around, he's fine. The blood


has all disappeared. There is no sign of it anywhere.

The DESPERATE MAN lays on the couch with his eyes closed. He
looks lifeless. She walks slowly toward him.
                       DESPERATE MAN
      (eyes closed)
Don't worry. I'm still here.
Are you okay?
                       DESPERATE MAN
      (eyes still closed)
I wish that I could stop bleeding
from my eyes. Now it hurts to open
Keep them shut. Don't hurt
He does keep them shut. Until stated otherwise, his eyes
remain closed. He is laying down on the couch, with his eyes
shut. Talking to her.
You mentioned earlier that it hurt
to breathe?
                       DESPERATE MAN
That's right, Doc. Should I stop
doing that too?
No. No, you should not stop
He grins.
She watches his grin and stops. Familiarity?
That's odd.
                       DESPERATE MAN
What is? Bleeding profusely out of
my eyeballs? Yeah. That's
downright kooky.
No. Your grin.


                       DESPERATE MAN
My grin?
Yeah. Do it again.
                       DESPERATE MAN
You want me to grin for you?
Do it.
He grins. A little stagey.
Don't ham it up.
                       DESPERATE MAN
It's hard to grin on command.
He relaxes his face and tries a more natural approach.

She looks at his grin. She even touches the dimples in his
cheeks, and lines in his forehead.
                       DESPERATE MAN
What is it? What do you see?
I see childlike wonder.
                       DESPERATE MAN
And what else?
I know you from somewhere.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Now you're getting it. Look
closer. What else do you see?
I see a confused and desperate
His grin disappears from sight.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Tell me about your sex life,
Margaret. Have you got one?


That's none of your business.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Tell me about the first time you
got it on. Was it as good as it is
in the movies? Was he stoic and
true, Margaret?
She sighs and shakes her head.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Go on, tell me.
His name was Mark. He played
                       DESPERATE MAN
Ooh, sounds like a hunk!
He played football on the Junior
Varsity team. He hardly left the
bench. He couldn't catch or tackle
or kick to save his life.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Ouch. Do you talk this
affectionately about every man
you've slept with or just a select
He was goofy and awkward and
didn't know what the hell he was
doing. It was funny and it made
him charming. I had a better first
time than most.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Kind of sounds like you had the
exact same first time as most.
Why don't you tell me about your
old high school girlfriends. Wait,
I forgot! You can't remember, can
                       DESPERATE MAN
Hardy-har-har. Let's see how you
like waking up not knowing who the
hell you are, getting shot by some


                       DESPERATE MAN (cont'd)
crazy lady, and then start gushing
blood from your eyeballs. We'll
see how funny you think it is
The THERAPIST chuckles loudly.
                       DESPERATE MAN
I can't believe you're actually a
Why do you say that?
                       DESPERATE MAN
Because you're driving me insane.
Don't take this the wrong way, but
I can't imagine actually paying to
be stuck in a room with you.
I can't imagine actually having
you as one of my patients.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Tell me about your patients,
Margaret. Any sexy nymphos that I
should keep an eye out for?
You wouldn't want to go there,
trust me.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Tell me about the closet pervs,
There is such a thing as
confidentiality, or don't you
                       DESPERATE MAN
Look around you, Margaret. We're
in the Twilight Zone. If this
place refuses to adhere to basic
rules of physics, I don't think
that the Hippocratic oath is
something we need worry ourselves


You know, you have a very
interesting vocabulary.
She begins to run her fingers through his hair.
I wonder who you really are.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Do you want me to grin again or
No. I just want to figure you out.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Why are you touching me?
It just feels right. Like I'm
supposed to do it.
The DESPERATE MAN squirms.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Stop it. I don't like it.
She doesn't stop.

He leaps off the couch and OPENS his eyes. Glaring fiery
down at her.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Calm down.
                       DESPERATE MAN
      (pointing angrily
       at her)
Okay, okay. I am very sorry.
                       DESPERATE MAN
      (calming down a
       few degrees)
You're not my mom, and you're not


                       DESPERATE MAN (cont'd)
my dad.
He begins to pace.
Taking deep breaths.
Tell me about your mom and dad.
                       DESPERATE MAN
      (continuing to
       calm down, slowly)
I needed them, Margaret. I needed
them and I screamed. As loud as I
could, Margaret, I screamed.
And they didn't hear you?
                       DESPERATE MAN
I could hardly hear myself! I
couldn't breathe, Margaret! I was
dying in my crib and there wasn't
anything I could do about it! I
couldn't do anything to save
The THERAPIST takes it in. All of it.
Do you feel lost?
                       DESPERATE MAN
Yes! I feel lost! I feel trapped
and quiet and so fucking small and
I just want my dad to hear me!
And falls to his knees.

The THERAPIST stands up. Towering over him.
She is shaking.

His sobs are bellowing.

She takes a breath. So uneasy.
Jeremy... is that you?


The DESPERATE MAN stares up at her. Tears in his eyes.
What happened to you?
                       DESPERATE MAN
      (weeping madly)
She kneels down and holds him in her arms.
                       DESPERATE MAN
I did't know where I was supposed
to go! I was too young to
understand which direction to walk
in. I just started wandering
around, and I ended up here! It
took me thirty years, but here I
am! It's not fair, Margaret. I've
been lost for such a long time.
And I've been scared and lonely
and frightened. I don't know who
I am, I just know that I'm lost.
Your father loved you so much. Can
you remember his name?
                       DESPERATE MAN
My Dad's name is Billy.
Tears are now swelling up in her eyes.
And your mother. Can you remember
He shakes his head 'no'.
You called me by it earlier,
Jeremy. Do you remember? You
called me 'Katie'. That was your
mother's name. I'm your aunt,
Jeremy. I'm Auntie Margaret.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Where is my mother? I want to see


I don't know where she is. When
your father died... your mother
and I were never close, Jeremy.
He puts his hands on her cheeks and looks into her eyes. He
is begging her.
                       DESPERATE MAN
Help me, Margaret. Help me find my
way out.
Jeremy, I love you.
                       DESPERATE MAN
If you love me, then help me.
I'm not sure if I can!
                       DESPERATE MAN
I am sick of being stuck. I'm sick
and tired of being lost. It's been
an eternity, Margaret, and I'm
afraid I might just give up soon.
      (weeping madly)
You can't do that! I have missed
you so much! Your father...! He
loved you so much, Jeremy!
                       DESPERATE MAN
You have got to help me, Margaret.
There has to be a reason for all
of this madness. You can help me.
That's why I'm here. I know it.
      (out of breath)
I don't know how, Jeremy.
                       DESPERATE MAN
You have to try and figure it out,
I can't.
                       DESPERATE MAN
You have to try. For me.


Let me hold you.
She cradles him in her arms. Lovingly.
You're not alone anymore. Oh,
baby. You got me. I'm here now.
Aunt Margaret is here now. And I'm
going to hold onto you forever.
You are a very precious child and
we all loved you. All of us.
And embrace.
They hold each other.
Love will set you free, baby. Love
is the cure.
She holds him even tighter.

Until his arms go limp.
She breaks the embrace to look at his face.

Clean shaven and pure. He is dead. He has finally found his
way. And he looks content.
Oh God!
She loses control of herself and weeps over him.
She flails her arms in the air and sobs.

Just then, the door to her office opens.

The THERAPIST jolts up at her desk and looks at the door.


Her SECRETARY stands there, with a look of worry on her
Are you alright, Miss Shaw? I
heard you... cry out. You sounded
I'm fine.
Are you sure, Miss Shaw?
Diane, I'm fine.
She looks out her window and is surprised to see that the
sun is no longer there.
What time is it?
It's nine o' clock, Miss Shaw.
What are you still doing here?
I didn't know if you still needed
Go home, Diane. I no longer need
you tonight.
Are you sure?
I'm positive, Diane.
The SECRETARY watches her as she stands up from her desk.
Drink some warm milk.
I'm sorry?


Drink some warm milk. It always
makes me feel better after a
Thank you, Diane. And good night.
Good night, Miss Shaw.
The SECRETARY leaves and shuts the doors behind her.

The THERAPIST walks around her office.
      (to herself)
Jeremy Shaw.
She shakes her head and looks at a photograph on her desk.
One of her and her husband on their last vacation.
She smiles.
      (to the photograph)
You're not lost, are you? You were
never very good with directions.
She puts the photograph back on her desk.

She sighs deeply.

She then opens up her drawer and sees a clump of bloody

The door to her office opens now. Again.
      (without looking
       at the door)
Diane. Go home.
Footsteps coming closer.

She looks up to see a big, buff man with a knife in his hand
approaching her.
She runs to the opposite side of her office.
                       BIG MAN
You told the police lies about me,
Miss Shaw. They want my hide.


                       BIG MAN
So you've been expecting me? How
He taunts her. Grinning madly.

She's pinned against the wall. He's waiting to strike.
He's playing with his prey.
He grabs her by her arm and slashes it before throwing her
on the ground.

On the ground next to a gun.

She grabs it and points it at the BIG MAN.

He puts his hands up and backs up against the desk.
                       BIG MAN
Take it easy, Miss Shaw. I was
only foolin'.
The BIG MAN grins and sits on the edge of her desk.
Drop the knife.
                       BIG MAN
If you say so, Miss Shaw.
The BIG MAN drops the knife on the carpet.
Now use the phone and tell the
police where you are and what
you're doing here.
The BIG MAN'S face turns grim.
She cocks the gun.
Do as I say.
The BIG MAN picks up the desk phone and dials 9-1-1.


                       BIG MAN
      (into the phone)
Hello? I'd like to report a crime
in action?
A pause.
                       BIG MAN
      (into the phone)
I'm the one doin' it, lady. You
got the address?
And then...
                       BIG MAN
Alright. See your boys soon.
He hangs up the phone.

And lights a cigarette.
There's no smoking in my office.
                       BIG MAN
Give a guy a break. I'm about to
be going up the hill for a couple
years. Allow me this last smoke.
She does. And he blows smoke rings.
                       BIG MAN
So. Is it normal for shrinks to
have guns scattered across the
She doesn't answer him.

She just keeps the gun on him.
                       BIG MAN
Do you even know how to use one of
I'm sure I could figure it out.
The BIG MAN grins.
                       BIG MAN
It's easy. Let me show you.


He lunges at her and she shoots him dead.

She stands there for a moment.

Looking at the gun in her hand.
Then at the BIG MAN'S corpse.
Don't fight it, Frank. You're a
big boy. You won't get lost.
Sirens approach.
The THERAPIST sits back down at her desk, and puts the gun
next to the photograph of her husband.
She examines the photo momentarily before looking around the
office. At nothing in particular.
      (to herself)
Jeremy Shaw, my nephew, has
finally found his way home.


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