Guilty.
JUDGE 1
If you didn’t do anything, why are you here?
DANIEL
I . . . I don’t know.
JUDGES 1
Then how do you know you don’t belong here?
DANIEL
I’m dreaming. This is a dream. JUDGE 1
The rest was a dream. This is real. DANIEL
No. No, that can’t be—
JUDGES 2 & 3
Guilty. JUDGE 1
Blood on your hands. Blood on your soul. DANIEL
I don’t believe you. I don’t believe this. (clenches his fists)
I’m not a monster.
JUDGES 2 & 3
Guilty.
DANIEL
No!
He lurches up from the chair. The judges sit still as buildings, the hollow of their cowled hoods perfect black.
Daniel turns, starts to run. Trips over the chair, pulls himself up.
There is a heavy wooden door on the wall behind him. He grabs the handle, pulls, the door grinding an inch at a time.
JUDGES 2 & 3 (O.S.)
Guilty!
INT. DANIEL & LANEY’S MALIBU HOUSE—CONTINUOUS
The medieval room, the robed judges, the torches, they’re gone.
Daniel stands in his kitchen. Shadows cast through the window stain the floor, the walls, the counters. The sound of the ocean is louder.
FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)
What did you do?
The sound is coming from the other room. Daniel starts in that direction.
A door slams.
Daniel begins to run.
He leaves the kitchen, breaks into the living room.
FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)
What did you do?
Daniel runs faster. He bolts out the side of the living room.
He is back in the kitchen.
DANIEL
Laney?
He runs the other way, into the hall, gets to the front door, rips it open, steps through. He is back in the kitchen.
Daniel runs again. The house is a nightmare maze. Doors that never existed open onto impossible hallways.
A voice begins to sing. It’s a woman’s voice, but strange, stretched out somehow.
FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)
Hawrk the herald ang-gels siing
(the voice stops, changes to a laughing tone.)
You know, with their heads thrown back and mouths all wide—
(singing again)
Glo-ree to, the new bowrn king.
(talking)
Remember?
Daniel continues to run, faster and faster. His hands leave blood smudges on everything he touches.
FEMALE VOICE(O.S.) Remember?
DANIEL
Laney, I didn’t do anything, I didn’t, I know I didn’t! Help me, please, help— Daniel slows as the familiar door approaches. FEMALE VOICE(O.S.)
(no sign she’s heard)
And then they dance.
(she sings a soundtrack)
da-na-na-nanana-na-nah, da-na-na-nah . . . da-na-na-nanana-na-nah, da-dada, dadada. . . .
Daniel opens the door, steps through . . . FEMALE VOICE(O.S.)
Bah-dah-dah-dah! Doink-iddie doink-iddie, doink-iddie, Bah-dah-dah-dah! Doink-iddie doink-iddie—
He is back in the kitchen.
DANIEL
I’m trying! Help me!
The woman’s voice dissolves into beautiful, bubbly laughter.
Daniel sinks to the floor.
DANIEL
You have to help me.
(fading)
I need help.
(staring at bloody hands)
Please.
5
Something smacked his feet, and Daniel jerked awake, heart thudding and stomach a tight, hard ball, a blinding white light in his eyes. He raised a hand, squinted through his fingertips. “What—”
“Get up.” The voice stern. Used to being obeyed. A breaker slammed into the beach, the impact tremor riding through his back. Daniel scrambled for thought, for context. Where was he? What was going on?
Last night. He’d read those articles, those foul, vile articles. The woman he loved gone, gone forever, and the whole world sure that he had done it, that he was the kind of man who murdered his wife. He’d left the café and stalked the streets. Hating everything and everyone. Hating Los Angeles most of all. He’d finally made it, only to realize he didn’t want to be here. It was glitter and vigor up front, all to leave you unprepared for how deep the sorrow ran when things went wrong. A driving city with lousy parking. Yoga during the day, cocaine at night. You can live the dream life with your dream girl, but you don’t get to remember it, and when the bill comes, it’s a fucking doozy.
He’d finally found a liquor store, where a Sikh sold him bourbon. Perfect.
Then walking, drinking, more walking. Finally coming onto the beach in Venice. The bottle mostly gone. The surf rolling steady, like it had all the time in the world. Like nothing was worthy of notice. He’d lain down, the world spinning below him, the universe whirling above, and remembered, just before falling asleep, the sensation that instead of looking up he was looking down, that he was clinging to the earth above a terrible and endless night—
“I said get up.” The last word punctuated with another kick at his feet.
“Hey, man, easy.” Daniel sat up, rubbed at his eyes. “I just fell asleep is all.” Thinking, a cop, a cop, a cop. He kept his face tilted down, hoping the guy hadn’t really studied him, that his new look was disguise enough. The flashlight had reduced the world to inches.
“No sleeping on the beach.” The light trailed down to the brown paper bag of bourbon. “No drinking, either.”
Part of him wanted to panic, to run wild, but to his surprise, his mind was calmly putting things together. Not cornered, not caught. The man wasn’t looking for him. He was just rousting a drunk. Still, if he asked for ID, or wanted to give him a ticket . . .
“I’m sorry, Officer. I’m not a bum or anything. I just . . . me and my girl.” He hesitated, found emotion easy to summon. “I lost her.” Almost choked the words out. “I lost her.”
The flashlight hovered on him for a long moment. Daniel could almost hear the cop thinking, taking in the clothing, the expensive haircut. Calculating the hassle of running in a regular civilian with a broken heart and a buzz, the civilian whining and crying and maybe even puking.
“Just move along, all right? You can’t stay here.”