HOME

PART III

From upstairs Richard paces. It's a rush thinking about all the many ways he could dismember them. Frustrated by the constant noise in his head, he Grabs hold of a small porcelain doll, bashing it against his head repeatedly.

And from downstairs, Donna breaths heavily through the trauma. She rests on her back, but knows she can't stay there long.

"David." She says to her fiancé, which renders no response. Donna cries, shaking him in despair. "David, please." he is still. He bleeds from the head. She fears her efforts are worthless after a few minutes.

More scared than she had ever been, she finds her balance and climbs to her feet. She knows that if she doesn't take action now, she would probably never leave this place. She looks down at David and makes a silent promise to get him out of here. She touches her stomach and takes a deep breath to steady her nerves. She searches around her, looking for anything worthy enough to be wield as a weapon. She has a choice, fight or flight. Fight with everything in her and put all of their lives on the line or take the first opportunity to flee and try to get help for David.

She knows she should think of the life in her belly first and foremost, it's what David would have wanted. She couldn't find it in her to care more about the nameless baby than her fiancée. She knew she couldn't leave him here. Things to use as weapons were limited to a few trash bags, a bundle of twine, and whatever other objects my reside at the bottom of the pit she nearly stumbles into. Too deep and too dark to make out anything at the bottom or to tell just how far the bottom may be. Like a strong man, with all the force he can muster, Donna receives a viscous blow to her stomach. Like something crawled up from the pit just to deliver it to her. A thought forces its way into Donna's mind. She's going to end up at the bottom of this pit, and she wouldn't be alone. No, David would join her eventually, and she would have the company of a poor soul's body that was emitting the rancid odor of decay from beneath her. One if not many.

For a moment she dwells in paralyzing fear, unable to moving, letting herself for the moment believe there is only one way that this ends; looking down into the pit as if it were telling her the future. Her future, David's future, this baby's future.

From upstairs, loudly a record begins to echo, startling Donna.

B-A-B-Y, baby by Carla Thomas plays. Donna's mother's favorite. A favorite of hers as well. The static sound, like hypnosis, brings her elsewhere. She sees her entire life in a moment, and in that same moment she sees her future. It's not at the bottom of this pit, it's in a kitchen cooking, singing, laughing. David's there, swaying his hips, a little girl in his arms.

She returns to herself. Finding that she is not safe within the walls of her mind, but present in what is possibly the most crucial moment of her life. David is no longer swaying to Carla Thomas. He lies on a cold cement floor. She can feel her feet planted on the ground, but her body is numb with an overwhelming sensation that she is floating outside her body. But she is taken over by sudden rage at the situation. As if the tether to her body had been yanked, her senses snap into high alert.

Keenly sensitive to her surroundings, she can hear Richard upstairs. He's yelling incoherently.