Close up shot of a bare, exposed wall, with
a blue hue of light on it. A medium shot of a few newspaper articles pinned to
a wall, all of which have titles on the topic of abduction and kidnapping in
the local area. Then a flickering shot of a TV screen, which is creating the
blue hue of the room. The TV is playing the news reports. Then a medium shot of
a man’s hand, resting on the arm of a sofa, holding a glass of whisky. Cut to
more shots of the room, the wall and the newspaper articles. Then back to the
TV screen and the news reporter. Then cut to close up shots of the man again:
of his eye, of his clothes- a shirts and cardigan, of the newspaper sat next to
him, and of his features, e.g mouth and stubble. His phone buzzes and he
receives a message from a girl ‘Are you around this Tuesday?’
Iris, 16, is sitting in her study on her
computer. The room is fairly girly and typical of a teenager, with a desk and
folders full of work. A Facebook message
appears on her screen; it’s from a boy and it reads ‘can’t wait to see you
later’. She opens up the full chat, and from the past conversation saved in the
window it is clear that they have been talking for some time.
Iris is waiting on the train platform. It
is clear from her body language that she is nervous and uncomfortable;
twiddling her fingers, tapping her feet, biting her lip. Suddenly it cuts to a
flash back- a man is shouting and throwing punches in the air out of
frustration. It is unclear to make out his face, but some features are visible,
similar to those of the man in the first scene. A ring is noticeable on his
finger and he continues to throw his arms around in frustration. He is shouting
at Iris and harassing her, the situation is visibly uncomfortable. He throws a
glass across the room and shouts something especially vile at Iris. Cut back to
Iris on the platform, she blinks her eyes open as the screams of her abusive
ex- boyfriend fade into the past. Iris
is no longer nervous, but seems more frightened from her flashbacks. Her train
arrives at the platform and she cautiously steps on.
Iris is walking up the street in the bitter
evening air from the train station. The light is beginning to fade and she wraps
herself tighter in her coat. She reaches the area where she is supposed to meet
the boy. It is an empty entrance to a car park. Iris begins to look around
slightly impatient. She begins to look nervous again. Her hands fiddling and
feet tapping. As she looks along the empty road, there is nothing but the noise
of rustling leave and a bitter chill that fills the air. She checks her phone
and sees no messages, its 10 minutes past the time she was meant to meet the
boy she was speaking to on the phone. She shoves her phone into her pocket and
just as it looks like Iris is about to give up and leave a man comes up from
behind her and covers her mouth. It’s the same hand that was seen in the
opening scene and of her abusive boyfriend. The screen cuts to black.
Iris wakes up. She
looks around but her eyes cannot see anything. As she continues to stare at her
blank surrounding she begins to remember what happened, up to the point when
she was grabbed from behind then blacked out. She touches her wet face, as she
realises she’s began to cry. Her body is aching all over, she can feel that her
skin is saw and sensitive. The bed she is lying on is hard, with no bedding,
with only her clothes to keep her warm. She stubbles out of bed, and feebly
finds her way to what she assumes is the door. She bangs on it and screams, but
its locked. After twenty minutes of banging, kicking and screaming at the door
Iris gives up and goes back to the mattress, curls up in a ball, and begins to
whimper.
She wakes up again to
a dimly lit room, with a single light bulb. She looks over to the door to see a
plate and cup. Hesitant, she gets up to go and see what it is. Iris picks up
the plate of plain pasta, and the cup of luke warm water, her stomach grumbles
as she realises that she can’t remember the last time she ate. She goes back to
the bed to eat her meal, and surveys the room, she looks around and can only
see a bucket in one corner. She is surprised that the food she is been given is
warm. Then it occurs to her that if it is warm then whoever kidnapped her must
be in the building. Iris quickly runs over to the door, banging violently on
it.
‘I know you’re there’
she screams, ‘I know you’re up there you monster’. After around 30 minutes of
banging and screaming, Iris stops, weak and tired she slumps down the door she
once again and cries herself to sleep.
The same events occur
for about four months, with intervals of sexual abuse and rape. Iris found out
that the man who kidnapped her was her abusive ex-boyfriend** NAME**.
After they broke up he began to plot a way to get her back. But his plan for
love soon turned into a plan for ownership and revenge for how Iris’
abandonment of him. She had treated him so badly throughout their relationship
that his only way to defend himself was through violence and control- which he
knew was harsh but it was the only way.
Iris began to hate
herself and her life, she could barely cope being in her own skin- she had not
washed since the day she was capture, or had a change of clothes. She had to
begin to create coping mechanisms, like pretending she was still leading a
normal life, going to school, going to work, seeing friends, having dinner with
her family, even imagining herself doing mundane tasks such as doing the
washing up or walking her dog. Iris would look down at her bruised and battered
body, she could barely move some days she was in so much pain from **boys
names** abuse, and she was becoming skeletal from her diet of two cold plates
of pasta a day, accompanied with a glass of water. She was also beginning to
throw up the very little food she had eaten that day, due to stress, which was
no help to her physical state. She prayed every day that she would survive
this, with every bit of her will.
When it was getting to
the end of the fifth month of her imprisonment there was a night when **boys
name** threw her against the wall so hard that she passed out for three days.
She woke up with a pillow under her head and a rough thin blanket over her.
**boys name** stood over her with a blank expression on his face.
‘you’ve been out for
three days’ he snarled, ‘and I think you may have also had a miscarriage.’ He
glanced over her body as he slinked towards the door, ‘You know I don’t want to
treat you this way, but you make me do it’.
Iris was so stunned
she could hardly process the information. For the last few months she had been
carrying a child, a being, one which had been produced by that man, that devil,
and his abuse. How could she have once loved that man? She feebly put her hand
on her swollen stomach. Her body ached all over, but she could not focus on the
pain, it was out of her conscience, unlike the dead child. She rocked herself
back and forth as she cried and screamed into her pillow. How could she have
even brought a child into a world like this anyway?
Act 3
In the sixth month, Iris
woke to loud crashing and then an extremely loud bang. She shuddered and
covered her head with her arms at the thought of **boys name** coming into the
room for the third time that day. The banging continued on the door, along with
the clinking of keys and muttering. With one last final bang, **boys name** stopped and went back upstairs. Iris breathed
a sigh of relief as she began to relax a bit. After half an hour a door upstairs slammed,
**boys name** must have left the house, which was highly unusual. Iris glanced
over at the door wondering why **boys name** was banging on it, he had never
done it before, unless he was really angry, and if that ever did happen he
would open the door and come straight in to take his anger out on her. The door
looked slightly different, almost crooked. Iris got up to look closer, as it
may have just been the angle she was sitting at. The closer she got the more
crooked the door looked, with the hinges looking very loose. The locks on the
door also appeared a bit worse of ware, with the middle and towards the bottom
of the door looking warped from all the kicking. She pushed the door out of
curiosity and it creaked. The door never creeks and it has also never looked
like this before.
It occurred to Iris
that **boys name** had weakened the wood of the door a considerable amount,
along with damaging the hinges and locks. Now, maybe, the door was weaker,
weaker than normal, weaker then when she kicks it everyday, so maybe she would
be able to kick the door open. With a sudden flush of excitement and hope Iris
began to kick the door. She punched the door, ran at the door, threw her shoes at
the door and kicked it with all the strength she could muster, and with each
bout of aggression and energy the door would buckle and warp slightly more. She
gave one final kick and the door buckled completely in the middle. She broke
apart the cracked wood in the middle of the door making a whole just big enough
to squeeze through. She put one leg and then the other through the whole, then
her feet touched down on the other side of the door. She then pulled her torso
through, her top pulled up resulting in the spikes of the wood ripping her
skin, but Iris continued to pull herself through as nothing was going to stop
her. Finally, she pulled her head through carefully, making sure not to scratch
it like her torso.
Iris could not believe
it; she was out. The first time she had left that filthy, disgusting room since
the day she woke up there, at least six months ago. Once she had calmed herself
down, she realised that she needed to be quick as **boys name** could be home
any second. She raced up the stairs and as soon as she reached the top she
heard jangling of keys. He was back. She quickly hid round the corner of the
stair case. **boys name** swung open the door, dropped his bags and pulled out
a wrench from one of them, then began to thundered down the corridor. She could
hear his heavy breathing, and smell the familiar scent of stale sweat on his
skin. As he came closer, Iris readied herself. Just as he got to the top of the
stairs he let out a bellowing scream. He ran down the stairs and stuck his head
through the hole. This was her chance, she had to run. She raced to the door,
praying that **boys name** wouldn’t see her- but unfortunately he did. He began
to clamber up the stairs just as Iris had grabbed his keys off the floor where
he dropped the bags, and began to fumble with the locks. She could hear hi,
coming up behind her shouting the same abuse that he always did, but with the
added remarks of what he would if she didn’t get back in the basement. She
continued to fumble with the keys, getting more nervous and sweaty, making it
increasingly more difficult to get the correct keys in the locks. As he placed
a hand on Iris’ shoulder, she swung at him with all the momentum and weight of
her body. What **boys name** didn’t realise was that Iris had picked up the
spare wrench from the bag next to the keys, which was two sizes larger than the
one he had picked up. When Iris knocked him over the head with this, he fell to
the floor and lay there unconscious.
Iris managed to open
the door and run outside. She breathed in the fresh air and let the cold wind
hit her face, with the last rays of the sun shining through the trees. She fell
to her knees.
