OVER BLACK The camera flashes. Yes, I think I can work with this. The polaroid floats down. She pleads. But nothing is heard. Not even the blade. Her mouth unhinges, throat straining, eyes bulging, hands gripping the arms of her chair. Shadow drapes her. FADE IN: INT. YARD – NIGHT Key in the hand. Singe on the nostrils. Tobacco on the tongue. Footsteps on the concrete, then the wood. Wail in the ears. Cold metal on the palm. CUT TO: EXT. LIVING ROOM – DAY Door creaking open. A gasp. A shattering. ME Ah, welcome home. So glad you could join us. A stench. A plastic rectangle sticking to the damp floor. BEN (OS) What have you done? Wet skin squeaks against exposed teeth… ME Isn’t she beautiful? Don’t you see? …then gums… BEN (OS) WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE? …then skull. FADE OUT. OVER BLACK Light pours in from the doorway, illuminating the dank room. Ben’s lips form words, unheard. I lift the polaroid from the ground, and hand it to Ben. Within it: a red dress, a pinup hairdo, a leather loveseat, a bright fireplace, a crimson smile, don’t you see?