Predation - Chapter One

Years after surviving a vicious assault, Sara Ivy still struggles to come to terms with being a victim. But living with her crippling anxiety is becoming too much of a burden to bear.

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Transcript

NOCTURNUM COLLECTIVE – SEASON TWO

Predation – Chapter One

Written by Karl White

NARRATOR (OPEN): There are constants that endure in the known world. Space, time, energy, matter. Physical and scientific laws constraining us to this existence. But there's a current below the surface. Contrary to the explainable, it's where the unknown resides, where meaning and form collide with the abstract, where shadows hold dominion…Enter the Nocturnum Collective.

(MUSIC – opening sequence)

NARRATOR: And now, together with Legends of the Night, The Nocturnum Collective presents Season two, Predation, chapter one, written by Karl White.

(MUSIC – mysterious drone)

NARRATOR: It's just before sunrise. A pink hue paints the sky above a canopy of trees. A woman walks barefoot through the forest. She wears a dirty, stained, lacerated red dress. The left shoulder is ripped to shreds. She looks like she's been to hell and back. Her name is Sara Ivy, she's 25, and despite whatever violent predicament she's been through, Sara has a strange serenity about her. But this is not where Sara's story begins.

(MUSIC – dance track)

NARRATOR: Four years before...120 beats per minute, thumping along with the pulse of a heart. Blood vessels expand, muscles expending energy, bodies swaying, the rhythm of life unfolding. Tonight, there's revelry of the highest order. It's a sorority formal. Strobing lights, cheap booze, surging hormones. The carefree sisters of Beta Kappa Nu and their dates dance at an upscale lodge in the woods. This is a last hurrah for many who'll be graduating in the coming weeks, ready to start their lives in the real world. Among those marching towards destiny with a master's degree in literature is Sara. She's friendly, a bit nerdy, but outgoing. She's on the outskirts of the frolic, wearing a party dress, sipping punch from a solo cup, mingling with a group of friends.

SORORITY SISTER #1: Sara, who'd you come here with?

SARA: Mark…Gable.

SORORITY SISTER #2: Is he on the basketball team?

SARA: No.

SORORITY SISTER #3: Sigma Chi?

SARA: Nope. Just a guy from my creative writing class.

SORORITY SISTER #1: Oh.

NARRATOR: Across the room, Sara's eyes meet Mark's, her date. He seems out of place, dorky, dressed in a mismatched thrift store suit. They share a playful look, making fun of those letting loose. Then the exchange builds to flirty smiles. Sara badly wants to dance. A big sip of punch helps her feel uninhibited enough.

SARA: All right, ladies. Our wills and fates do so contrary run.

NARRATOR: They all give Sara a look.

SARA: It's Shakespeare.

NARRATOR: Then she's off. Sara motions across the room for Mark to join her as she slides into the crowd, moving to the beat. He resists, so she throws an invisible lasso. He gives in to her silliness, going along with it. Her friends watch, laughing. On the surface, they're poking fun at Sara, but underneath, they all wish they were as untroubled as she is. 

(MUSIC – intensifies)

NARRATOR: Sara and Mark act goofy as they dance the night away, but as they grow closer, Sara stares into his eyes. They share an intense look of longing.

(SFX – rain on car roof)

NARRATOR: Down a dead-end dirt road, deep in the woods, the windows are fogged up on a hand-me-down station wagon. In the back seat, Sara and Mark make out. From the movement of her body, she's the aggressor. She shifts and sways on his lap, nearly in sync with the patter of light rain battering the car. Sara tosses her head back in the throes of passion. Mark kisses her neck. But as she writhes, she catches sight of something outside the car. 

(SFX – terror sting)

NARRATOR: She stops moving, while Mark continues to paw at her. A moment later, he stops, seeing something else has her attention.

MARK: Sara, what's wrong?

NARRATOR: Squinting through the condensation-covered windows, a look of fear fills her eyes.

SARA: Someone's out there. I think he's watching us.

NARRATOR: Her words make Mark turn back and look. Through the car window, a silhouette. Someone's stalking around in the woods, watching from the rainy shadows. Nervous, Mark tosses Sara off him, and quickly climbs from the back into the driver's seat.

(SFX – climb over seat)

NARRATOR: Sara, still in the back, looks through the windows, searching the obscurity outside.

SARA: I don't see him anymore.

NARRATOR: The wind and rain suddenly pick up, lessening visibility.

(SFX – howling wind)

MARK: Let's get out of here. Go someplace less creepy.

(SFX – key in ignition)

NARRATOR: Mark's shaking hand slides the key into the ignition. A shadow suddenly grows across Mark's face, prompting him to look over. The driver's side window...shatters.

(SFX – glass breaks, screams)

NARRATOR: In a darkened bedroom, sounds of heavy breathing. Sara, years removed from the incident in the car, tosses and turns in bed, having an intense nightmare. Her legs churn, tussling the covers, at first off her, then onto the floor. There’s a sudden sound at her bedroom window.

(SFX – thud against glass)

NARRATOR: The noise, in conjunction with the climax of her nightmare, causes Sara to sit up, screaming.

(SFX – scream)

NARRATOR: Sara looks around the darkened room. Slowly coming back to reality. But the panic from her dream isn't subsiding. She goes for a bottle of pills on her nightstand Her shaking hands struggle with the cap.

SARA: Come on.

NARRATOR: After a moment, she wrestles the bottle open. But as she tilts it to pour a pill into her hand, it's empty.

SARA: Goddamn it.

NARRATOR: More agitated than before, she takes measured breaths, trying to calm down. But it's not working. Sara puts her hand on her chest, her heart's pounding. She's having a panic attack.

(SFX – light switch)

NARRATOR: Stumbling into the bathroom, Sara flicks the light on and rushes to the sink. She frantically splashes cold water on her face, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

SARA: Don't do this. Focus, breathe, you are in control.

NARRATOR: Short, concise, measured breaths.

SARA: Keep it together, Sara. Focus, breathe, control.

NARRATOR: She inhales deeper, holding it than letting it out.

SARA: Focus, breathe.

NARRATOR: A sudden shutter of intense pain courses through her body. She braces herself against the counter. Her body twists. Teeth grit. Muscles strain. She fights with all of her might to maintain whatever controls she's afraid of losing.

(SFX – thud against glass)

NARRATOR: Another loud thud at her bedroom window, but in the midst of her attack, she doesn't notice…Finally, the tense pressure breaks. Sara lets out an exhausted exhale.

(SFX – exhale)

NARRATOR: She looks back at herself in the mirror and bares her teeth. There's blood in her mouth. She lifts her upper lip, feeling her gums. They're tender to the touch, bleeding. With her toothbrush and a dollop of paste, she obsessively scrubs, brushing the blood away.

(SFX – brushing teeth)

NARRATOR: As she spits, the radio alarm in her bedroom goes off.

(SFX – alarm buzz)

NARRATOR: 7 a.m. glows on the clock face as the radio blares

DJ (over clock radio): ...Which is causing the back-up on the two-thirty-five. Police have also closed off part of Eighth Avenue near Riverview Park this morning after a body was discovered...

NARRATOR: Sara hurries back in the room, turning it off…She grabs the empty prescription bottle off the nightstand, inspecting the label. At the bottom, the words, no refills remaining. She flops down on the bed and picks up a landline on her nightstand, dialing. 

(SFX – phone dialing, line trills)

NARRATOR: Under her breath, she continues with her mantra.

SARA: Focus, breathe, control.

PHARMACIST (over phone): Good morning, Hill Street Pharmacy.

SARA: Hi, I need a refill on my prescription. Last name is Ivy, like the plant…It's for klonopin.

PHARMACIST (over phone): Sure. Give me a second to pull it up.

NARRATOR: As she waits, Sara inspects her fingernails. They're long. She puts the prescription bottle down and goes for a pair of clippers, trimming her nails.

(SFX – nail clipper)

PHARMACIST (over phone): I'm sorry, Miss Ivy, but there are no refills left on that prescription.

SARA: I believe you're mistaken. I spoke with the doctor's office. They said they called on my refill yesterday. So, if I could just stop by this morning and pick it up.

PHARMACIST (over phone): Excuse me, ma'am. Yesterday was Sunday. The pharmacy isn't open on Sundays.

NARRATOR: Sara closes her eyes tight, trying her best to stay composed.

SARA: I meant Friday.

PHARMACIST (over phone): Regardless, there’s no record of a refill being called in. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but you’ll have to clear this up with your doctor—

(SFX – slams phone down)

SARA: Fuck!

NARRATOR: She picks up the pill bottle and lets out an annoyed squeal, ready to throw it in a fit of rage. But she stops herself with a deep inhale.

(SFX – breathing)

NARRATOR: Measured breaths again, in through her nose and out through her mouth...She closes her eyes. Sara's in a fragile state, barely holding on. Despite her efforts to compose herself, deep down her body shakes with tension, like slight and imperceptible seismic activity before an eruption.

(SFX – thud against glass)

NARRATOR: There's another thud at her window, forcing her eyes open. Cautious, Sara gets up and sneaks over, pulling back the curtains.

(SFX – open curtains)

NARRATOR: On the ground just outside the window, she sees three dead sparrows.

(SFX – birds chirp)

NARRATOR: Hearing a chorus of loud chirping, Sara notices a flock of sparrows strangely congregating on a power line nearby. Their attention is drawn in her direction…Sara quickly closes the curtains, unnerved by the birds.

SARA: It's not real. You're seeing things...Focus, breathe, control.

NARRATOR: She trails off, continuing with her controlled breathing, closing her eyes again.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: Eyes open, Sara finds herself in the small waiting room at her psychiatrist's office. Hung in the corner, a TV plays morning news. Sara looks at the screen at a police press conference happening live.

POLICE CAPTAIN (on TV): There have been multiple homicides, and at this time we think it might be the work of a single perpetrator...

NARRATOR: Tired and uninterested, Sara stares off into space, her mind adrift…She hates days like this, torn between reality and the specter of her anxiety, hanging over her like a boulder on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall and crush her at any moment. It's hard to pay attention when she feels like this. That's why she jumps as a voice rings out.

DR. KELLER: Sara Ivy.

NARRATOR: Brought out of her days, Sara glances up to see Dr. Keller. He's polished, engaging, on the verge of being too good looking, like a movie star from Hollywood's Golden Age. He stands in the doorway to his inner office, welcoming her with a warm, charismatic smile.

DR. KELLER: It's good to see you again.

NARRATOR: On her feet, Sara makes the briefest eye contact with him. He cordially holds out his hand, hoping for at the very least a handshake. But she lowers her shy gaze and scurries past, into his office.

(DRONE – quiet/white noise)

NARRATOR: The room is cozy and tranquil, with cool, calming colors. Various nature photographs adorn the walls, a white noise machine providing a placid soundtrack. In the middle of the room, an armchair facing a couch creates an intimate environment for doctor and patient. Sara makes a beeline for the far end of the couch, sitting as far away from Dr. Keller's chair as she can…Once seated, Sara stares at her folded hands in her lap, fixating on her nails, which are strangely long again. She nervously chews on them…Dr. Keller takes a seat in his chair and readies himself for their session. He opens a leather notebook, giving a glance at past notes.

DR. KELLER: I was surprised to hear from you. It's been what, six months? My hope was you'd been feeling better.

NARRATOR: He looks over the notebook at Sara, expecting some sort of response, but she remains quiet, continuing to chew her nails.

DR. KELLER: You sounded upset on the phone. Is everything all right?

SARA: I need a refill on my medication.

DR. KELLER: I can certainly write you another prescription, but let's talk some first.

SARA: Please, Dr. Keller.

NARRATOR: Her voice convincingly crescendos, then quickly trails off…There's a long beat, then...

DR. KELLER: Full disclosure, I'm required by law to determine the mental health of a patient before I can prescribe or refill certain psychiatric medications. I can't just write the prescription and send you on your way. I hope you understand.

NARRATOR: Sara glances at him with an appropriate amount of pain in her eyes.

SARA: Please, I need my klonopin, I don’t feel right without them...

DR. KELLER: What you've been taking is a short-term medication, and a powerful one at that. It's meant to ease anxiety and panic disorders so other treatments can be effectively pursued.

SARA: It's the only thing that calms my nerves.

DR. KELLER: Sure, but other avenues need to be explored. Education, psychotherapy, immersion therapy.

NARRATOR: Uninterested in what he's saying, her gaze drifts.

DR. KELLER: Let's start by trying something a little different today…I'm not going to write you a prescription.

NARRATOR: Hearing that, Sara immediately springs up, marching towards the door.

DR. KELLER: Wait, Sara.

NARRATOR: She stops.

DR. KELLER: What I was going to say is, I'm not going to write you a prescription until the hour's over. In the meantime, I'm here to listen, gather information, so we can make the right decision together.

NARRATOR: Hand on the doorknob, she could just walk out, find another doctor to write the damn prescription. But as Sara quietly mulls things over, getting an appointment with someone new, they'll most likely want to get a history, talk things over, blah, blah, blah. It'd be easier to just sit on the couch and do what she has to…But still appearing ready to go, Dr. Keller feels like he needs to keep trying, so he employs the time-honored method of lightening the mood.

DR. KELLER: Do you know how many psychiatrists it takes to change a light bulb?

NARRATOR: With Sara's thoughts elsewhere, all she can muster is a blank, confused stare.

DR. KELLER: Just one. But it's a long process, and the light bulb has to want to change.

NARRATOR: He chuckles at his own dumb joke…Keller is attractive and affable. It's hard not to be charmed by him, but Sara keeps an emotional distance.

DR. KELLER: Something's got a hold of you. I can see it. There's no harm in talking.

NARRATOR: Giving in, she walks back to the couch, sitting down.

SARA: I can't stay the whole hour. I have somewhere to be soon.

DR. KELLER: And where's that, if you don't mind me asking?

SARA: A support group.

DR. KELLER: Oh, okay. That's great. How long have you been going?

SARA: I make myself go once a month, no matter what. I need to remind myself…

NARRATOR: She stops short of revealing too much.

DR. KELLER: Remind yourself of what?

SARA: I don't want to talk about it. Not today. I'm not ready to share.

DR. KELLER: I respect that. It's a good sign you're getting out, seeking interaction. If it helps you, then I'm off for it.

SARA: Yeah, so I need to leave here in 20 minutes if I'm gonna make it.

NARRATOR: Dr. Keller nods, giving a reassuring smile.

DR. KELLER: Of course, it's all a step towards healing, and I know anxiety can keep the best of us from putting ourselves out there.

NARRATOR: Sara's back to chewing her nails.

DR. KELLER: It's been a real hurdle for you, hasn't it? Your anxiety. We talked about it the last time. You were having pretty severe panic attacks. It was affecting your work life at the library. Is that right?

NARRATOR: Sara responds by spitting a nail out.

DR. KELLER: Are you still experiencing the panic attacks?

NARRATOR: There's a long silence. Sara just isn't budging…Dr. Keller, like any good head-shrinker, wants to keep her talking, so he forces a yawn.

DR. KELLER: I didn't sleep much last night. How about you? Have you been sleeping well?

SARA: No.

DR. KELLER: Are you experiencing that as a side effect with your medication?

SARA: Nope.

DR. KELLER: Still having nightmares?

NARRATOR: Her silence is enough of an answer. He quickly refers to his notes, trying to keep her engaged.

DR. KELLER: Is it the dream with the man standing in the field, blood raining down from the sky?

SARA: No. Different.

NARRATOR: Dr. Keller stays quiet, waiting for more from Sara. But she's not indulging. Putting the notebook down, he settles further into his chair, readjusting his approach.

DR. KELLER: Growing up, I was a sensitive kid, but my dad was strong. You know, a man's man. I know that's outdated, but he didn't like emotions or feelings. But he died of a heart attack when I was 13. Soon after that time, I started having crazy dreams, where I'd see myself, talk to myself, fight with myself, like a good me and a bad me, always at odds. The dreams were manifestations, trying to reconcile the grief of losing my dad while not being allowed to outwardly express my feelings…This is gonna sound like one of those psychiatry cliches, but most of us feel like we have two sides.

NARRATOR: Hearing the emotion in his voice, Sara refuses to yield to her feelings. Her own stress building, she looks around the room for something else to occupy her attention. She settles on a framed black and white photo of a forest that night, focusing on it intensely as Dr. Keller goes on.

DR. KELLER: In our minds, we create a dilemma. What's going on inside is supposed to match what's going on outside. It sets an expectation that we simply can't live up to. We feel disconnected, errant, alone, but the fact is, you're not alone.

NARRATOR: Something about the photo, she gets lost in a memory. She hears sounds, her own heavy breathing, the panicked rhythm of footsteps crunching over fallen leaves and branches.

(SFX – distant footsteps)

NARRATOR: The stress of what she's feeling creeps across Sara's face. Dr. Keller notices her distance.

DR. KELLER: Sara, are you okay?

NARRATOR: She blinks, snapping from her trance.

DR. KELLER: You're running.

NARRATOR: Sara looks in his direction, but keeps her gaze averted.

SARA: What?

DR. KELLER: You're running from something in your past. We all are.

NARRATOR: Sara shakes it off, withdraws further. The stress of Dr. Keller's questions and not having her morning pill are getting to her.

DR. KELLER: We all have our demons, things we keep hidden, and that's okay. But eventually, you'll have to face what's holding you back.

NARRATOR: Sara gives a quiet, stressed sigh, then looks back at her fingernails. She's chewed most of them down.

(SFX – door open)

NARRATOR: After the session is over, Dr. Keller opens the door to his office. Behind him, Sara quickly slips past, stepping into the waiting room. She can't wait to get out of there, but he holds her prescription in his hand. She stares at it as Keller continues with formalities.

DR. KELLER: Thank you for talking with me.

NARRATOR: Sara reaches out to grab the paper, but Dr. Keller hesitates with it for a moment.

DR. KELLER: This was a good foundation, but there's more work to be done. Wouldn't you agree?

NARRATOR: But she's more focused on her prescription than what the good doctor has to say.

DR. KELLER: Let's set another appointment.

SARA: I'll have to check my calendar and get back to you.

NARRATOR: Dr. Keller smiles. His allure is hard to resist, but Sara diverts her attention back to the prescription…When he finally extends it, she snatches the paper and heads for the door.

(SFX – grabs paper)

DR. KELLER: I'm here for you, Sara.

NARRATOR: But she's already gone.

(SFX – transition/sting)

NARRATOR: Sitting in her shitty beater car in the pharmacy parking lot, Sara rips into a stapled bag, pulling out her newly filled prescription of anxiety pills. Her hands are shaking, so close to having what she wants.

SARA: Come on. Focus, breathe, control.

NARRATOR: As she fights with the lid, Sara senses something outside her car. Looking up, she locks eyes with a man in a sports car, parked across from her. He's on his cell, but it feels like he's watching her. His eyes are ruthless, fierce, determined, having a heated conversation with someone. He taps the steering wheel with a galloping rhythm…Sara shrinks in her seat and averts her gaze, struggling with the cap on the prescription bottle. When it finally pops open, she quickly digs out a pill with her dainty fingers and downs it without water. She closes her eyes, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

SARA: Control…

NARRATOR: Her voice trails off…When she reopens her eyes, there's a dull glimmer of satisfaction, as if the pill's effects are instantaneous. Looking back at the man in the sports car, he's staring off elsewhere as he continues his call.

(SFX – engine starts)

NARRATOR: Sara starts her car and backs out of the spot, driving away.

(SFX – car drives off)

(MUSIC – ethereal)

NARRATOR: Trauma can devastate the system of living. An affliction that can seep its way so deep in your body, it can never be eradicated. The experience, the aftermath, the fallout, the stress and fear of feeling it again can wreak havoc on an individual and radiate to those around them, especially when it is internalized. But a unique component for combating the effects of trauma is to express it, to liberate the mind of holding it all to oneself, to unburden the suppressed pain, and to realize that while your trauma, like a fingerprint, is unique to you, you are not alone in being its victim…In a church basement, a contingent of women of varying races and ages, they're all there for a victim support group meeting. The safe space of a group such as this can be an invaluable tool in peeling away the pain and to lessen the power trauma holds...They sit in a wide, near-perfect circle, with the exception being Sara, whose chair is pushed further back, not quite conforming with the moral support part of the group. 

(SFX – transition/sting)

NARRATOR: At the moment, all eyes are on Gabriela, 42, as she is in the midst of bearing her soul.

GABRIELA: I came home one night, pulled into the driveway. When I got out of my car, he grabbed me from behind, pushed me to the ground, and raped me, ten feet from my door.

NARRATOR: Sara observes, watching others' reactions. Some women remain quiet. Others fight back tears, having been in Gabriela's shoes.

(SFX – transition/sting)

NARRATOR: Another woman, Shanice, 28, tells her story.

SHANICE: We were hanging in his dorm. The vibe was good. But he slipped me something. I woke up, he was on top. I couldn't move. I reported to the RA, campus police. There were consequences, but his friends, his family, they harassed and threatened me. I had no other choice but to drop out.

(SFX – transition/sting)

NARRATOR: Next is Chloe, doing her best to wear a brave face as she opens up.

CHLOE: The emotional toll has been the most devastating part. Feel ashamed, confused, so far away from normal. It's hard to trust anybody anymore.

NARRATOR: Preaching to the choir, the masses nod along, but Sara, scrutinizing their response, shakes her head in opposition. While she can certainly relate to and understand the pain being shared, she doesn't accept the benefit of opening up. Doing it with Dr. Keller serves the purpose of getting her pills refilled. Otherwise, she feels giving her trauma attention makes it a more powerful and uncontrollable entity. And she's not alone…Tina, 37, with short unkempt hair and no makeup, keeps her head down as she struggles mightily through her share.

TINA: I never saw his face. The cops never caught him. He left scars. Physical ones that constantly remind me of the pain...

NARRATOR: Her eyes well with each word she speaks.

TINA: He took my purse, my driver's license. He knows who I am, but I don't know who he is.

NARRATOR: Tears roll down her cheeks as she gets quiet.

TINA: That monster's still out there, and because of that, I feel like he still has some kind of power over me.

NARRATOR: She shrinks in her chair. Several women near her reach over, offering comforting hands and hugs. But it does little to console Tina.

(SFX – clapping)

NARRATOR: Wendy, the leader of the group. She claps, prompting the rest of the group to follow suit. Everyone does, except for Sara.

WENDY: Thank you for your bravery, Tina. Now, is there anyone else who'd like to share?

NARRATOR: Heads turn. Eyes scan the room. Looks begin to collect in the direction of the outlier, Sara. But she's too busy watching Tina cry to notice.

WENDY: How about you? We've all seen you here the last few months. Would you like to take the plunge and introduce yourself?

NARRATOR: Others in the group shoot Sara encouraging looks. But shying from the spotlight, Sara starts to gather her things. She stands, ready to leave. Several of those who shared chime in.

GABRIELA: This is a safe space.

SHANICE: Come on, girl. There's no judgment.

NARRATOR: But Sara is resolute in her feelings.

SARA: I'm not like you, any of you.

WENDY: It's okay. You're among friends.

NARRATOR: But Sara adamantly shakes her head “NO”.

CHLOE: What are you, a tourist? Getting off here about other people's pain?

NARRATOR: Feeling the growing stares from the group, Sara's compelled to at least defend herself.

SARA: You don't know what happened to me. You come here and share and cry and try to unburden yourselves as if it gives you some freedom to go live real lives. But this is...It's a storm that never lets up for me.

NARRATOR: Tina looks up, connecting with something in Sara's words.

WENDY: Your story's important. We're here to listen.

NARRATOR: Wendy motions for Sara to sit and share. But she won't. She can't…And she quickly marches out the door.

(SFX – transition/sting)

NARRATOR: Emerging from the room, Sara rounds the corner, arms crossed, head down, struggling with equal parts, shame and irritability. She whispers a quick exoneration.

SARA: You're not like them. Any of them.

NARRATOR: But the self-vindication does little to quell her indignation...but a quick glance at her watch and her eyes grow with panic. She hurries to the stairs…She’s gonna be late for work.

NARRATOR: To be continued…

(MUSIC – Outro)

NARRATOR: For more killer content, subscribe or go to www.NocturnumCollective.com. And for more information about Predation and the LOTN universe, go to www.LegendsoftheNight.com