ANGELINA — ACT IV YOU WANT HIM DEAD

[ACT IV — YOU WANT HIM DEAD] [BLACKNESS.] [Clock.] 3:17. [Long instrumental intro. Distorted bass. Slow four-note riff.] [WOMAN] Oh... Look at you. Still thinking about him. [Beat.] “He took him out of my life.” And now you want the ending. Did he leave? Did I leave? Did he die? [RIFF.] There. That one. Your eyes changed. [Slow drums.] You want him dead, don't you? Not because you hated him. You never fucking knew him. You want him dead because heartbreak is ordinary. But a dead lover? [Small laugh.] That's worth the price of admission. [INSTRUMENTAL — dirty blues guitar.] Maybe he died. Maybe... I killed him. [DEAD STOP.] Oh. Now you're listening. [She laughs.] You're disgusting. I like you. [RIFF RETURNS.] Let me tell you about the last night. Or... what I remember of it. [Clock.] 2:41. Rain. 2:52. He arrived. Wet coat. Wet hair. That stupid face I could recognize from across hell. [Cello.] He wanted me to leave with him. I laughed. He asked again. I laughed harder. [Pause.] Because sometimes when somebody offers you exactly what you want... you become cruel. [Low Hammond.] I told him I never loved him. [Silence.] That was a lie. Beautiful. Sharp. Perfect. [One guitar strike.] I watched it go into him. And for half a second... I enjoyed it. [Long instrumental break.] There. Now you know something ugly about me. Happy? [Drums return.] He walked toward the door. I could have said his name. I didn't. I could have said— stay. [She almost says it.] I didn't. [Clock.] 3:11. His hand on the door. 3:12. My cigarette burning between my fingers. 3:13. Rain. 3:14. His back. 3:15. The door opening. 3:16. I remember thinking— [ABSOLUTE CUT.] Don't go. [Long silence.] But I never said it. [Clock.] 3:17. [A SOUND.] [Silence.] [WOMAN] And then... nothing. [LOW BASS PULSE.] Nothing I trust. [Extended nightmare instrumental. Detuned piano, cello, guitar feedback.] The next memory... I'm on the floor. [Beat.] There's water. I think. My hand is wet. Or my dress. No... Wait. [Heartbeat.] That's wrong. [The riff begins fragmenting.] I remember red. [Pause.] Not blood. Red. Those are not the same fucking thing. [DRUMS begin accelerating.] A door. Light. A hand. Water. [She becomes unsettled.] Why water? [CELLO repeats the riff incorrectly.] No. No, that's not right. [ORCHESTRA begins invading.] Door. Light. Hand. Water. [Funeral bell.] Fuck. [WOMAN, furious] STOP. [MONSTROUS INSTRUMENTAL ERUPTION.] [GUITAR SOLO — violent, chaotic.] [Pipe organ, orchestra and drums collide.] [WOMAN, over the storm] I REMEMBER THE RAIN! I REMEMBER THE DOOR! I REMEMBER HIS BACK! I REMEMBER— [EVERYTHING CUTS.] [Breathing.] ...red. [Long silence.] I don't remember blood. I remember red. [Very quietly.] Please... let there be a difference. [Silence.] [For the first time, she sounds afraid.] You wanted to know if he died. [Heartbeat.] So do I. [Long pause.] But that's not what scares me anymore. [One guitar harmonic.] What scares me... is that somewhere inside my head... I think I already know. [Clock.] 3:17. [WOMAN, whisper] And I think I'm the one who hid it from me. [BLACKOUT.] [LONG INSTRUMENTAL OUTRO. Only the broken four-note riff remains.]