- PROLOGUE -
A small bedroom in the mind of BREE, who currently resides in a lunatic asylum. She imagines the room to look as her bedroom in her former home.
There are two large windows at the back, one to the right and one to the left. There are no curtains. A full moon is visible from the left window and a pattern of shining stars across both. In front of the right window there is a bunk bed – the bottom bunk a double-bed, the upper bunk a single bed. The sheets are blue, but the pillows are off-white. Standing against the left wall is a long black wardrobe which stretches across the full wall. In its centre is a long mirror. On the floor there is a plain red rug on top of wooden panels. The ceiling is a pale white, and damp marks can be seen.
As the camera fades from black, NIGEL, aged 16, is seen sitting on the bottom bunk, dressed in a black full-sleeved, polo-necked unitard. BREE, aged 13, is seen dancing in an uncoordinated fashion from left to right, and she is speaking. She is dressed in a similar unitard.
BREE [in the middle of speech]: …and to think – that the smallest of kind gestures could be recognized in the mind of the recipient as a favour. And soon that favour psychologically transforms into a right. And as soon as that right does not appear, it is a betrayal. And when the favour-giver shakes their head, it is a betrayal. And when that favour-giver enjoins to some good, it is a betrayal. How loathsome, grotesque our nature can be. That we emerge from flesh into flesh, and then flesh out of flesh, only to become flesh into dust! And yet we think ourselves so high! Twice brought forth from filth, and yet we belittle each other! We despise each other. Corruption, corruption and nothing more than corruption shall seize us ever more! [Stops dancing and regards NIGEL] Nigel?
NIGEL [he yawns]: Yes, Bree?
BREE: Why do you have a lizard on your head?
NIGEL: I do not have a lizard on my head.
BREE: I must be seeing things again [she sits on the bed next to him].
NIGEL: You have finished cursing humanity, then?
BREE [indignant]: Humanity cursed itself [she draws up her legs, staring at the ground].
NIGEL: Of course [pause] What are you seeing, Bree?
BREE: Beetles. They are all over the floor.
NIGEL [holds her hand]: No. There are no beetles anywhere.
BREE: But I see them. They are so real…
NIGEL: They aren’t. You are imagining it. What else are you imagining?
BREE: I do not want to say.
NIGEL: Then I can not help you.
BREE [after a moment of hesitation]: You. You are holding my hand.
NIGEL: No. That is real.
The bedroom fades away, and is replaced by padded walls, and a white washed door to the left. There are no windows. BREE is seated cross-legged on the plain floor, her torso and arms wrapped in a white strait-jacket. Her face is covered by a mask – similar to that of a fencing mask.
BREE [sadly]: No, it’s not [pause]. It never really is. Nothing ever really is.
- END PROLOGUE -