In Her Skin Page #3

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one corner of the street.

At the same time,

she could walk around another,

and you've missed her

by seconds.

I suggest you get some rest.

Go home.

Come on.

Oh, Mr. Barber?

Have you looked

under the house?

So what if that woman

was right?

What if she was kidnapped

by the brothel?

Liz, enough.

She'll be terrified.

We'll go.

Dom and I will check it out.

She's alone.

She could be hurt.

Liz, you are not

thinking clearly.

You're exhausted.

She could be in a hospital.

She'll be fine.

No one knows who she is.

They don't know

who we are.

They can't contact us.

Please, darling,

a cup of tea?

Mum, enough with

the f***ing cups of tea.

- Oh.

- [silverware clatters]

Dad.

Liz, I think we might take...

[phone rings]

Barber household?

Sure, thanks.

Yeah, I'll tell her.

We'll take Ashleigh-Rose.

We could use...

I'm gonna get a torch.

It's dark under the house.

Liz?

Oh, he's... he's looking

for Rachel under the house.

- She's under the house!

- No!

Sweetheart,

the... the detective asked us

to look under the house

in case she's run away,

and she was hiding there.

- Oh, that's bullshit.

- Rachel?

Now, Drew, the policeman's

only doing his job.

Oh, for Christ's sake.

Rachel,

are you down here?

[phone ringing,

tea kettle whistling]

Barber house?

Rachel!

[gasping lightly]

[line ringing]

[gasping]

Mike?

Mike?

[gasping, panting]

Oh, Mike, Mike.

She's dead.

She's not.

She's dead.

She's not.

She's dead.

Oh, God, she's dead.

[wails]

I love my children.

I love my children.

I love my children,

and I love my wife.

Mom!

[sobbing]

[whispers]

It's okay, Daddy.

[faint, echoing voices]

[wind chimes jingling]

Elizabeth?

I could feel her here.

There's a lot of memories.

[distorted breathing noises]

[sudden gasp]

[whispering and rustling]

[woman whispering indistinctly]

It has begun.

Life is torture...

I get this ugly feeling

inside me,

and it forces me

to do things,

to scream, swear,

and throw things.

I am going to explode.

The explosion is just

gonna get bigger and bigger.

[screaming]

I hate myself!

The wind rushes

through my hair.

I'm weightless,

but fear cripples me.

I'm suffocating.

I cannot scream.

Who are you?

Help me.

Oh, Daddy, please,

help me.

[pop music playing on radio]

[computer keys clacking]

Dear Dad.

It's 9:
23.

I haven't done any homework

these entire holidays,

and I feel horrible.

Dad, I don't want

to go back to school.

I hate it there.

I don't fit in.

They call me names:

pizza face, stubby,

big nose.

I don't know why.

I told Mum,

but she hasn't helped.

I have no friends.

I used to think of you

as my only friend,

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