Int. House - Day

EMILY’S bare feet with bruised legs move slowly across the floor of strewn with mattresses, bedding and articles of women’s clothing.

She is wrapped in blankets, but otherwise naked.

She looks like hell; hair a rats nest, lips chapped, thin.

A young black girl is curled up behind her sleeping in the fetal position. An asian girl sits staring at nothing. They are in a makeshift brothel.

Cold winter light comes into the room through a knot hole in the PLYWOOD covering the windows.

Emily walks toward the light. She presses her face against the the plywood and looks out through the knot hole.

Emily’s POV though knot hole

Snow falls outside. Trees can be seen.

Emily looks away

and leans against the wall. She begins to slowly peel away a piece of plywood veneer with her fingers.

Her hands are delicate, pale. Her nails: chewed down with the chips of nail polish showing.

She breaks off a piece of veneer then begins to scrape and peel another.


Sometimes, in order to prevent a long painful and pointless existence, you have to make a choice. You have two options, and two options only. One: Kill yourself.

She tears off a piece of plywood that is as sharp as a knife.


Two: Kill others.

Her eyes stare coldly forward.