The Scribbler

1

What did you just say?

Can I have a pen?

I can't talk without a pen.

That makes a lot of sense.

When you're crazy...

you sometimes have to let

your hands do the talking.

The way you deal with this is you learn to

enjoy being a passenger in your own body.

They told me

I have multiple personalities.

They told me I don't fit in.

But in a war between

individuality and conformity...

the individual is always outgunned.

The conformists have machines

on their side.

They think they've got

all the angles covered.

But they forgot two important things.

Crazy people, we don't play by the rules.

And there are always side effects.

Detective Moss?

Jennifer.

Where's my chair?

Victims' psych profiles.

- Where'd you get ahold of these?

- Got any aspirin?

- No.

- Who's this?

Suki, apartment 64 upstairs.

Are you a psychologist?

My name's Jennifer Silk.

I'm a criminal psychologist.

I'm not a criminal.

Why don't you tell me what happened.

From the beginning.

That's not always

the best way to tell a story.

No? Okay, well why don't we

start at the end then. Here. Dead.

Dead, dead and dead.

That's a lot of dead nutters

in one place...

and it all happened after you moved in.

He's not dead.

Go and find this one,

would you, Detective?

Make sure he doesn't go anywhere.

Tell me about Juniper Towers, Suki.

Why are you here?

It's a halfway house

for the mentally and socially inept.

It's kind of a

psychiatric version of purgatory.

You're out of your padded cell,

but you haven't really qualified...

for a place in the real world yet.

They give you a room if you

show a willingness to conform.

You might still be under the impression

you can think for yourself...

but you do time here

until you get over it.

The good news is...

if you get a key to the tower,

it means you're getting better.

You're still a social leper,

but at least you're on the way up.

What are you doing on the stairs?

- I don't like elevators.

- It's not safe.

You want my coat?

God, no.

Don't take it personally.

She's very fashion conscious.

She wouldn't be caught dead

in that coat...

or anything else for that matter.

You moving in?

Yeah. Suki, top floor.

Oh. I'm Cleo.

Bipolar sex addict.

That's Emily.

She has a pathological fear of clothing.

- What's your thing?

- Disassociative identity disorder.

Fantastic.

We don't have one of those.

Welcome to the suicide suites.

You must be high risk.

No, I'm-

What do you mean, high risk?

Come down and see me later.

I'll show you my secret milk bath recipe.

Stay off the stairs.

- Help.

- Emily?

Yeah, I know. Stay off the stairs.

It doesn't matter.

We won't survive this place.

You might as well jump. Everybody does.

You can't live here.

- This is just crazy.

- Stay still.

- I control you.

- Get out before it's too late.

- You're just a rat in a cage.

- Get out before it's too late.

This place will suck the life out of you.

- You ought to jump too.

- ...jump too.

- Everybody does-

- Everybody does.

This is the real crazy.

Anxiety and vomit.

It's disappearing into a dark corner

where no one can reach you.

It's being ugly and stupid...

and alone.

It's wishing you were back

in the hospital.

Her vitals are off the scale.

What's happening to her?

The machine

just burned out another identity.

- Leave it on.

- We have to abort.

Her heart's stopped.

I've got no pulse.

What's that? Did you see?

It's the Scribbler. She's surfaced again.

It's okay, Suki. Stay still.

Check the counter.

It's on nine.

Then we've successfully eradicated two

more identities. Do you concur?

Suki?

It's Dr. Satomi. Can you hear me?

Get up. How do you feel?

Oh, hold on. Look at me.

Say ah.

Ah!

Oh, why should I kill myself?

Baby, I'm tryin'

We can't live here.

- We can't live here.

- There's a 38% suicide rate.

- Did you see

- You're falling apart.

Don't you see you're falling apart?

That'll be us next.

- This place is a dump.

- Don't worry.

This place is a dump.

- Shh. Shut up.

- No one is gonna take care of you.

- We're not safe here.

- No one's gonna take care of you.

Get out. Get out.

Run.

Dance for me.

Dance.

Hogan? What are you doing here?

- I brought sugar.

- I don't do sugar.

That's not what you said last time.

And I thought Juniper Tower

was a female block.

Every henhouse needs a rooster.

I checked the wrong box.

Paperwork hasn't been

your strong point either, has it?

Maybe I've got it right,

and everybody else has it backwards.

Yeah. That attitude will keep you

off Sinclair's radar.

- He let me out, didn't he?

- I can't imagine why.

Anyone who can't write a proper list...

is surely a danger to modern society.

Oh, beautiful, you look like crap.

Are you sure you're ready

to fly out of the cuckoo's nest?

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

I'm just saying most people leave this

place in the back of an ambulance.

So what about you?

I thought you were cured.

Why are you still here?

Ding.

Got myself a new entry

in the accident book.

F***.

- Hogan, why?

- Bad hair day?

No. I mean, why'd you

cut across instead of down?

- You're such a faker.

- Oh, you'd be crazy not to be.

This place is full of girls with daddy

issues, and I've got the penthouse suite.

I'd do anything to stay here.

In fact, I'm thinking of trying out...

that multiple personality

thing of yours next.

Could you give me some pointers?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes