The Vail (Episode Three: Lady In Red)

Happy Holidays, folks! I was recently asked by one of the followers of "The Vail" if I would be posting this week. Well here is a nice treat for you. Not only am I posting but I'm posting in time for Thanksgiving. I personally tend to get angry at my favorite TV shows when they take super long breaks just for the holidays. I realize they need family time too but I need my shows. Now, the good thing about not actually being recognized by anyone who would pay me is that the holidays only gives me more time for writing. So, an extra episode. And, hopefully, I plan on giving these little holiday gifts every time I can. So, Happy Thanksgiving and I hope you enjoy this special episode of "The Vail".
I also hope that no one finds this episode dissapointing. This is going to be a bit different from the other two, focusing more on a character than the plot, and I must admit that this one was a toughy to write. I actually wrote and rewrote it five times. But I feel that it is a necessary chapter in the story. So, please, this one more than any of the others, tell me what you think. And, if you do hate this episode, then please come back for the next installment, which will hopefully be pretty soon, because that one will be a lot more plot based na dintroduce a new element into the mystery. But, as for now, I hope you will either completely love this different kind of episode or at least be able to stomach through it and get something from it.
Oh, and I hope you all eat lots of turkey and grow tired and fall asleep and stay away from train stops on Thanksgiving Day. Until next time!

Joey Pettine

The Vail

by Joey Pettine

Episode Three: Lady In Red

(A small train stop, the ticket window is closed for Thanksgiving but the bench inside the tiny hut is still warmer than the boarding platform outside. A woman, NANCY VAIL, sits on the floor of the stop, her knees huddled against her chest. Her entire front is covered with blood, she holds her hands away from her body as if they were badly burned. Her cheeks and hair are smeared with blood, her eyes are wide and unbelieving, she shudders with tears. SAVANNAH, a young girl trailing a large suitcase of clothes behind her, enters from the cold offstage. She immediately sees Nancy and there is a moment of shock, then she instinctively drops the handle of her bag and runs by Nancy's side.)

SAVANNAH

Oh, my God. Are you okay?

NANCY

Get away from me.

SAVANNAH

There's so much blood. Wh--

NANCY

Get away from me! Get away!

(Savannah looks into Nancy's eyes, trying to calm her.)

SAVANNAH

I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna help.

(Savannah goes to touch Nancy's shoulder.)

NANCY

DON'T TOUCH ME!

(Nancy pulls her shoulder away as if the girl were diseased then scrambles to her feet, getting a safe distance away from Savannah.)

NANCY

Don't touch me. Just...

(Her words trail off into tears and she presses her face into her palms, accepting the blood, and twisting her fingers into her hair. Her shoulders bounce with each sob. Savannah surveys her pitifully for a moment then pulls out her cell phone.)

SAVANNAH

I'm just gonna call an ambulance.

NANCY

No!

(Nancy takes a step toward Savannah, her trembling hands clutched against her chest, her eyes welling with sorrow.)

NANCY

Please.

(Savannah is both worried and confused now. Nancy pleads with her eyes, her tears running red with blood as they wash down her cheeks. The sudden silence is almost comforting.)

SAVANNAH

Are you hurt?

(Nancy's lip quivers at the question.)

NANCY

N-No.

(Savannah seems suspicious.)

SAVANNAH

I think I should call--

NANCY

Please!

(Nancy chokes back a sob, swallowing it, and manages to regain some composure.)

NANCY

Please, I'm not hurt.

(Savannah seems more suspicious than ever, which is why she closes her phone and pockets it.)

SAVANNAH

Somebody do this?

NANCY

Ex-excuse me?

SAVANNAH

Did someone hurt you?

(Nancy's eyes empty of hope and she collapses onto the bench, resuming her cries. Savannah sighs empathy but keeps her eyes strong. She takes a seat next to Nancy.)

SAVANNAH

I'm sorry.

(Nancy bends so her elbows rest on her knees. Her breath hitches harshly. Savannah puts a comforting arm across her shoulders.)

SAVANNAH

It's okay, darling. It's alright.

NANCY

Oh, God. Oh, God!

SAVANNAH

This isn't your fault.

NANCY

Yes...

SAVANNAH

No. You can't... We have to call the police.

(Nancy sits back up, fear returning.)

NANCY

You can't!

SAVANNAH

It'll only get worse. I know.

NANCY

But... but...

SAVANNAH

He doesn't love you. I'm sorry, but he won't stop unless someone makes him. He won't stop until one of you is dead.

NANCY

You're wrong.

SAVANNAH

Look at yourself. You're covered in bl--

NANCY

YOU'RE WRONG! YOU'RE WRONG! YOU'RE WRONG!

SAVANNAH

What a--

NANCY

IT'S NOT MINE!!

(The last shriek is so loud it seems to stun both of them into silence, just staring at each other.)

NANCY

This isn't mine. It's my husbands.

(Nancy sobs again. Savannah, surprisingly, doesn't run. She reaches out and laces her fingers between Nancy's.)

NANCY

I didn't mean to. I...

SAVANNAH

I'm sorry.

NANCY

I loved him. I did. E-e-even though...

SAVANNAH

He hurt you.

(Nancy buries her face into Savannah's shoulder, feeling the comfort of another human being. Savannah understands.)

SAVANNAH

It was my dad. Whenever he drank he'd get “hot hands”, is what he called them. It either meant he was angry or horny.

(Nancy looks up at her, horrified.)

SAVANNAH

I know what it's like. I've seen you before. There are people who can help.

NANCY

But I loved him.

SAVANNAH

I loved my dad, too. Still do. And I still ran away. If I hadn't I would have been just like you.

NANCY

You don't understand! I murdered my husband! I KILLED HIM! I... I did it because I wanted to. I needed to. He... He didn't deserve what I did to him.

SAVANNAH

You need help.

NANCY

I don't know what I'm capable of.

SAVANNAH

You have to go to the police. If this is how you feel...

NANCY

I COULD KILL YOU!

(Savannah seems a bit more cautious now, not taking Nancy's threat lightly, but she doesn't back off.)

SAVANNAH

What's your name?

(Nancy continues to sob.)

SAVANNAH

Please, you never meant for this to happen. I know. I can help. My name's Savannah. And, honestly, I'm not gonna be able to go and have a happy Thanksgiving until I know you're safe. So do me a favor, huh?

NANCY

Just leave.

SAVANNAH

Look... I... It would really help if I knew your name.

(Silence.)

SAVANNAH

Eight years ago an old woman found me in a bus station restroom covered in blood that was mine. She watched me cry on the floor, looked me right in the face, then asked, “What did you do?” I never answered her and so she left but not before she gave me some advice. “Whatever it was, don't do it again. Then you deserve it.” I had two thoughts then: The first was that she could go fuck herself with a gramophone. The second was that she was right, if I went home and let it go and did nothing, then I deserved everything that he did to me. No excuses. You may not have done the right thing but, in my opinion, you didn't do the wrong thing either.

Nancy continues to cry. Suddenly the train stop is aglow with the red and blue swirling lights of surrounding cop cars. There is the sound of commotion from off stage. Nancy drops to the floor, the tears streaming back harder than ever.)

NANCY

I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to! I didn't mean...

(Nancy continues, running her fingers through her hair, repeating the mantra. Savannah kneels down and embraces her. As the spinning lights fade to black, so does everything else. Until all we can hear is the sound of Nancy sobbing painfully in the dark.)