Days of Our Lives Survivor

Tuesday, June 05, 2001

Day 8 on Survivor Island

Laura, I really was, I was just about to tell you. I had the mail in my hand but I couldn't get a word in –

Laura: Whatever Marlena...

Honey, don't do this. [Marlena reaches out her hand but Laura shrugs off her touch] I want to help you. You believe that don't you? [Laura turns and looks at her a little oddly and Marlena shivers.] Honey, maybe we should get you back to Salem so you can be there while they're looking for Jenn.

Laura: [seems quite unfazed but it is obvious there is more going on than she is letting on..] No thanks. [Laura wanders over to their tent....] I'll see you in the morning I guess... [She crawls into the tent and Marlena stands there staring at the swinging flap for a moment.]

Oh Laura. [said quietly as she shakes her head. However, a moment later, she looks at her watch and realizes she's quite late for her rendezvous with John.] Oh *damn*! [She hurries off to the south.]

confessed by Marlena at 1:27 AM

***

Belle *Confessional* Tribe II

(Belle curls up under her itchy army blanket in her corner of the tent. It's been a long weird day. She can't get the image of the friendly little squirrel out of her mind as she tries to go to sleep next to Hope, who keeps mumbling "me me me" in her sleep and clomping one of her feet into the hard ground. She's also worried that she could be the next one kidnapped -- it running in the family and all. But mostly she just feels lost... like she's felt as long as she can remember. Which isn't very long, she ponders, since she's unable to remember most of her childhood years anyway.... All of a sudden, she hears a whispering voice on the other side of the canvas, and sees a very large shadow cast upon it from the almost full moon. Clutching her makeup bag to her chest she freezes and listens, as though in a confessional.)

Male whispering voice: Belle... remember when you used to sit on your daddy's lap and put puzzles together? Children get their brains from their mothers, you know.... You were such a *smart* child. Remember when your mommy and daddy brought you to see Santa, and the elves made them kiss? You were smiling Belle. And remember, Belle the night your daddy brought you to see your mommy after he saved her from the devil? YOU saved her, remember? You knew she wasn't dead and you told your daddy, and he went and offered his soul to the devil to bring her back to you.... Your daddy WAS a priest you know, right? And did you know your mother saved him from getting his head chopped off in a guillotine, and from being killed in the gas chamber? Remember when your daddy said goodbye to you and Brady, and how upset he was that he thought he might never see you dance in any recitals? Do you remember being in any recitals?

(Belle gasps, closing her eyes shut hard, trying to picture the gentle sweet reassuring smile of Mr. Squirrel.)

Male whispering voice: And remember when you were born? Your daddy was there, and he helped bring you into the world. Do you remember when he told your mommy that she *did it*, but mommy corrected him and said *no, we did it? We did it?*. Do you remember Belle? Do you?

(Belle pulls the blankets up over her head and starts to hum *Oops, I did it Again*.)

Male whispering voice: You don't do you, Belle? That is your name, isn't it? Belle? Don't you ever wonder why you aren't as bright as your mother? Or why you don't care about anything but superficial things like makeup and cappuccino? Or why you have the hots for someone who is more or less your cousin? Or why you don't remember any of your teachers in grade school? Or even remember the day your mommy and daddy got married? Why is that? Hmmm? (The voice pauses, allowing his words to linger in the mist of the summer night.)

(Belle shudders and silently shakes her head *yes* -- yes she does sometimes wonder.... But then why let it bug you when there's a sale at Ballistics? Or when cute little squirrels smile at you?)

Male whispering voice: Goodnight *Belle*... sleep tight, and don't the bed bugs bite.