Sanitarium
[Insane Asylum: room with one window and one door. A bed lies in the middle of the room against the back wall.]
RYAN: I've been here ten months now, in the asylum that is. Why am I here, you might ask? I killed a man. I didn't mean to, but I just lost control and couldn't stop myself. But we'll get into that a bit later. Right now I want to take you into the prison of my mind and share my world with you. It's very lonely in here, I tend to keep to myself. I'm all alone except for the staff, and my brother comes and visits me now and then. I've got a psychiatrist too, he's a new guy. I haven't met him yet, but I don't like him. There's something about him that bothers me. I think I'll have some fun with him. Something happened to my old one, but no one will talk about it. Michael is one of the fellows who works here, a glorified muscle brained dolt of a security guard. I can honestly say I haven't met a simpler man in my entire life. I like to pick on him though. He doesn't understand half of what I say to him. I haven't said much about my brother. His name is Shawn. He's two years older than me. We get along well enough, but we have our differences. We were very close all of our lives, I guess because of our `situation'. He comes about once a week or so and brings me things to read . . . I love reading, it makes life seem almost bearable with new exciting places, characters and plots to carry me far away from this hell hole . . . but that's another story. Why am I telling you all this? There isn't much to do around here, minutes seem like hours, hours seem like days. It beats talking to myself I suppose, and it's much more interesting than playing with the roaches. Don't get me wrong though, this place is real nice, although everything in here is blue, which I think was a poor choice. I hate blue, it makes me want to tear down all the walls, and doors, and everything else that is blue and smash it to bits. I used to like blue, until I came here. I'm one of the lucky ones, my room has a lovely view of an alleyway. The food here is very tasty once you get used to it (and if you like meatball surprise). I have told you about the people I know, and the place I am, but have paid little attention to myself. My name is Ryan, my favourite colour is black and I'm generally a really nice guy. My life has been relatively normal: full of ups and downs just like everyone else, I guess this is one of the lower points. The man I killed was not fit to live. I found our later his name was Robert Stevenson. I only met him once, that was when I killed him. I can't stand to see people harming others, I guess it's just my nature. When I saw him he was in the park beating the living daylights out of the young girl he was with. He pulled a knife on her, and that's when I stepped in. I bashed his head in with a rock. I suppose I could have called the police or something instead, but I lost it.
[The door to the small padded room opened slowing, flooding the room with the lights from the blue hallway. MICHAEL, a big brutish man entered.]
MICHAEL: Time for your appointment.
RYAN: [to Michael] The man who I was, and the man I've become is a reflection of life. Am I a hero or a murderer? Is there a difference? I don't think there is. You say I'm crazy, I think I'm perfectly sane. There isn't a difference. What is good, what is evil? It is evil to kill, that has been ingrained in us since our birth. Why do people cheer then? Why do people want capital punishment and public executions? People are evil blood thirsty violent heartless killers, nothing more. It's no wonder then that I have become the monster you tell me I am. Sink or swim, right? Then why in Gods name am I being punished for merely surviving. It makes no sense to me. You are the monsters. I, at least, feel guilty for what I've done. You don't feel anything, do you? I almost pity you Michael, but I don't really care. Hate breeds hate; violence breeds violence, insanity breeds insight. Do you understand that? No, I guess you don't. You don't seem the clever type to me. No one understands, that's the only reason I'm here. I scare people because they don't understand me. So what if I killed a man, he deserved it. That helps easy my guilt, but every night when I try to sleep, I see him. His eyes filled with shock and pain. He had no idea what was coming. He deserved it though, I've done society a favour, and this is the thanks I get? It's enough to make me sick!
MICHAEL: It's time for your appointment.
RYAN: Yes yes, I'm very aware. Lead the way.
Scene 2
[MICHAEL leads RYAN through a maze of blue painted hallways until they reached a large office with the name "DR. JONES" on the door plaque. RYAN quietly opened the door and sat down in the empty chair. DR. JONES entered the room moments later.]
DR. JONES: Tell me about your childhood.
RYAN: What would you like to know?
DR. JONES: Tell me about your parents . . . did you get along well?
[Lights go dim, spotlight on front centre stage. DR. JONES freezes, RYAN stands up and casually walks to the front of the stage. He casually addresses the audience:]
RYAN: My parents, eh? Let me tell you a bit about my parents. I never knew my father, neither did my mother really. I mean she didn't know which guy she slept with was my father. She was a prostitute. Shawn and I adored her, she was an amazing person. Such a great attitude for such a shitty life. But she died young, she was murdered. Stabbed to death one night on the job. But he [pointing to DR. JONES] doesn't need know my life story. I think I'll have some fun with him.
[RYAN pauses for a moment to reflect on his memory of her, then turns and sits back in his chair. Lights go back to normal, and DR. JONES unfreezes. RYAN answers:]
RYAN: Sorry to disappoint you, doc, but I was rather fond of them.
DR. JONES: What do you mean by `fond'?
RYAN: I respected them, we got along well . . . we understood each other.
DR. JONES: Understood?
RYAN: They're dead now.
DR. JONES: How did they die?
RYAN: Does it matter?
DR. JONES: It might.
RYAN: They died of natural causes.
DR. JONES: I see. Do you have any siblings.
RYAN: A brother.
DR. JONES: Tell me about him.
[RYAN sinks back in his chair, thinking back to the day he killed Stevenson. It was his brother who had found him stooping over the bloody body. It was his brother who had waited with him while the police were on their way. He was very fond of his brother and respected him greatly. He felt bad for the way he handled things, he was still out of control when his brother came, he didn't know what he was talking about, he thought it was all just a game. The image of that day returned to his mind.]
Scene 3
[RYAN sitting on a park bench. Enter STEVENSON and GIRL, struggling. RYAN watching carefully. STEVENSON pulls out a knife and threatens the GIRL. RYAN runs over, grabs a large rock and hits STEVENSON in the head with it. STEVENSON collapses, dead. GIRL screams, RYAN rushes to her side and hugs her, trying to calm her down:]
RYAN: It's okay mom, he can't hurt you anymore. I saved you. You're okay. I fixed it all.
[Enter SHAWN. He prys RYAN off the frightened GIRL and slaps him hard.]
SHAWN: What in Gods name have you done?! [he gasps]
RYAN: What does it look like? [composed and serious]
SHAWN: Are you okay? What happened?
RYAN: He...knife...mom...I killed him?
SHAWN: Are you crazy?
RYAN: Must you ask? [smirking]
SHAWN: That's not our mother, that's just some stranger.
RYAN: What?!
SHAWN: So what's going to happen next?
RYAN: Who cares?
SHAWN: Don't you care about anything?
RYAN: Why bother?
SHAWN: Argh! I could just punch you, you know? [growling in frustration]
RYAN: Why don't you then?
SHAWN: Will you get a grip!?
RYAN: What for?
SHAWN: Stop answering my questions with more questions!
RYAN: Stop asking my questions, and I will give you answers.
SHAWN: Huh?
RYAN: That's a question, why don't you stop this?
SHAWN: I don't get it...
RYAN: Because there is nothing to get.
SHAWN: How are you supposed to give me answers without questions?
RYAN: Do you think me a fool?
SHAWN: No, why?
RYAN: Why not?
SHAWN: STOP IT!
RYAN: My responses rely strictly on what you say.
SHAWN: Meaning?
RYAN: Do you see any reason to continue this conversation?
SHAWN: Okay, okay, I get it now...
RYAN: How brilliant of you.
SHAWN: Lets see now...I'm feeling fine today.
RYAN: So am I.
SHAWN: Good. I believe that you are crazy and you should seek psychiatric help.
RYAN: No arguments from me.
SHAWN: The police will be here any second.
RYAN: I'm very aware of that, my dear brother, but I do not care.
SHAWN: ...you not caring makes no sense to me.
RYAN: Nor to me either.
SHAWN: If I were you, I'd run away and never look back.
RYAN: Perhaps, but you're not me, so it doesn't matter.
SHAWN: I wouldn't have got into this whole mess in the first place.
RYAN: [grining] You always were the good one.
SHAWN: And you the crazy one.
RYAN: But either way, it doesn't matter...
SHAWN: I suppose not, not now anyway.
RYAN: We each have our own destiny, different as they may be. And we must fulfil the as best we can.
SHAWN: Perhaps yours is to be caught.
RYAN: I have no doubt about it.
SHAWN: I pity you.
RYAN: I pity you more, at least I know my destiny.
SHAWN: ...it is better not to know, I think. That way there is still hope.
RYAN: False hope doesn't mean much to me.
SHAWN: You aren't afraid either.
RYAN: No, I don't fear death.
SHAWN: I surely do.
RYAN: That is how we are different then.
SHAWN: I hear the sirens.
RYAN: It is time...
Scene 4
[RYAN sighs as he remembers the trial. He wasn't executed like he thought he'd be, instead he came here.]
RYAN: My brothers name is Shawn. What is there to tell? We get along better than most brothers I suppose.
DR. JONES: He was there with you when they arrested you.
RYAN: Yeah, poor guy.
DR. JONES: Why is he the `poor guy'?
RYAN: He's so unsure.
DR. JONES: About what?
RYAN: The future, life, etc...kind of like you.
DR. JONES: Me?
RYAN: Yes, most people are the same. They don't know anything.
DR. JONES: And you do?
RYAN: Yes.
DR. JONES: What do you know?
RYAN: Everything and nothing.
DR. JONES: You're talking in riddles.
RYAN: You're very observant!
DR. JONES: What do you know?
RYAN: Too much, not enough. They're both the same.
DR. JONES: I don't understand.
RYAN: Of course not. How could you?
DR. JONES: Why do you know everything and nothing?
RYAN: I am one of the chosen.
DR. JONES: Chosen by who?
RYAN: You couldn't possibly hope to understand. You're lucky.
DR. JONES: How so?
RYAN: Ignorance is bliss...I wish I was a cow.
DR. JONES: Why?
RYAN: Maybe I could be happy then.
DR. JONES: You aren't happy now?
RYAN: How could I be? Being caged like a bloody animal?! My life is already finished, all that's left is to wait.
DR. JONES: Wait for what?
RYAN: The end.
DR. JONES: Do you ever think about suicide?
RYAN: Yes, quite often, but when it is my time it will happen on its own. I won't kill myself.
DR. JONES: How are you feeling?
RYAN: How would you feel in my situation?
DR. JONES: You're avoiding the question.
RYAN: So are you.
DR. JONES: Why did you do kill Stevenson?
RYAN: I had to.
DR. JONES: Why?
RYAN: They told me to.
DR. JONES: Who?
RYAN: The voices.
DR. JONES: Do you hear them often?
RYAN: Not always, but usually.
DR. JONES: Do you hear them now?
RYAN: Yes.
DR. JONES: What are they saying?
RYAN: They're telling me to rip your tongue out.
DR. JONES: Why aren't you?
RYAN: Because it's not my nature.
DR. JONES: Yet you killed because they told you to...
RYAN: They made me.
DR. JONES: Don't they make you now?
RYAN: No, well, not yet anyway. It's just a suggestion. [innocent grin]
[DR. JONES wipes his damp forehead with a hanky then continues,]
DR. JONES: What was your life like before.
RYAN: Normal.
DR. JONES: Go on...
RYAN: I was an average Joe. I lived alone, had a nice job and house, you know, the whole bit.
DR. JONES: How long have you been hearing the voices?
RYAN: I don't remember. Long enough.
DR. JONES: Were you abused as a child?
RYAN: No.
DR. JONES: Are you sure?
RYAN: Very.
DR. JONES: Tell me about your dreams.
RYAN: I don't dream.
DR. JONES: Why not?
RYAN: Because I don't sleep.
DR. JONES: Aren't you tired?
RYAN: No, not anymore.
DR. JONES: Why don't you sleep?
RYAN: Because I don't want to.
DR. JONES: Why not?
RYAN: Because he's there.
DR. JONES: Who?
RYAN: His eyes...staring at me, I can't get his face out of my dreams. He haunts me, constantly . . . I have to get out of here! [yelling frantically]
DR. JONES: Calm down Ryan! Michael, take him back to his room.
[MICHAEL appears at the doorway and leads RYAN back to his cell. The blue door slams shut as MICHAEL leaves him alone.]
Scene 5
RYAN: I sure scared him! [laughing] He actually believed me too. Voices talking to me, ha! The only voice I ever hear is my own . . . it's the faces that scare me. His face.
[RYAN lies down on his bed, eyes darting all over, looking for any sign of threat.]
RYAN: Every night it's the same, you're same dead face haunting me endlessly. Every time I close my eyes or look in the mirror, you're there. You bastard, haven't you caused enough problems? Show yourself! Fight me like a man! Even death would be better than spending the rest of my life looking at your blood stained face. Why did you do it? Have you no morals? You think I planned on killing you? You left me no choice. I hate you for it. I always will. My life was fine until I met you. I was no more messed up then than anyone else, now look at me! A raving madman talking to ghosts in an insane asylum. This isn't life. There is nothing left for me now. You've taken everything, and even from hell you still find the time to torment me. What did I ever do to you? I had never even met you until that day . . . it seems like so long ago, and at the same time, it seels like only yesterday. I have no way of knowing how long ago it was. Time means very little to me now that I have so much of it. Leave me alone! Let me sleep for once. It's been so long since I've slept I don't even remember what it feels like. I'm so tired, although I'd never admit it...
[Ryan yawns as his eyelids grow heavier and heavier]
RYAN: But I won't fall asleep, if I did he would be there.
[Several minutes of silence passed as RYAN fights to keep awake, eventually however, he sinks into a deep slumber. He opens his eyes looking around. He isn't in the asylum, he is in the park. The trees suddenly erupted in flames, and the ground splits open. Up from the depths of hell STEVENSON rose, covered in blood.]
Scene 6
STEVENSON: We meet again! [evil grin]
[RYAN backs away from him and started running. The fire from the trees surrounded him though, blocking his path in all directions.]
RYAN: Leave me alone!
STEVENSON: We're the same, you know...killers!
RYAN: I'm not like you.
STEVENSON: Oh but you are! You'll learn that soon enough.
RYAN: Why have you brought me here?
STEVENSON: So you can join me in hell where you belong.
RYAN: I'm not evil!
STEVENSON: Yes you are. I can prove it too.
[STEVENSON waves his arm and the GIRL he was beating appeared in from of RYAN]
STEVENSON: Kill her.
RYAN: No! Never!
STEVENSON: You are one with me, we are the same. Kill her.
[A knife appears in RYANS trembling hand.]
RYAN: I won't!
STEVENSON: You must. [screaming violently] Do it! I made you into what you are, you will obey me!
RYAN: I'd rather die first.
STEVENSON: Kill her.
[The knife in RYAN's hand started to move by itself, dragging him with it over to the GIRL]
GIRL: Please, don't kill me, I didn't do anything! Please help me!
RYAN: Don't worry, I won't hurt you. [RYAN tries to comfort]
STEVENSON: Liar! He's going to kill you, my dear, disembowel you then eat your liver!
RYAN: I will not! [he screams while trying to stop the knife as it moved closer to the GIRL]
STEVENSON: It's you or her, Ryan, what's it going to be? Burn in hell with me for all of eternity, or kill the girl?
RYAN: I won't hurt her.
STEVENSON: You've chosen poorly I'm afraid.
[The knife flips over and plunges into RYANS chest. He screams in pain and collapses to the ground. The flames move in and engulf him.]
Scene 7
[Back in RYAN'S room at the sanitarium.]
MICHAEL: Doctor! Something is wrong, he isn't breathing!
[DR. JONES enters RYANS room and examines RYANS limp body. He rubs his chin thoughtfully.]
DR. JONES: It seems he's had a heart attack in his sleep. It makes no sense, he was in perfect health. Oh well, get him out of here before he starts smelling.