Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.
A EUROPEAN SPORTS CAR, racing at high speeds, headlights
scouring the winding road ahead, engine roaring.
Some distance behind, a POLICE CRUISER, sirens on, lights
flashing, tires scraping the asphalt...
INT. SPORTS CAR
Behind the wheel, an intelligent-looking man with delicate
features and a fierce intensity in his eyes... Gregory Peck
in his forties. Beside him, a woman ten years his junior.
Attractive, smart, her expression is full of concern.
The woman's eyes want to glance behind her, but hesitate.
The police cruiser struggles to stay on the tail of its prey,
trying to match corner for corner, turn for turn. Its V-8 is
no match for the high-performance Porsche Turbo.
In the distance, lights up ahead. It materializes like an
oasis in the dead of night. It's a building that never
sleeps: a HOSPITAL, the large ER letters burning bright red.
The Porsche races to the front of the emergency room
entrance, narrowly missing a parked ambulance. The two
occupants of the car hop out, the driver toting a small black
bag. The woman quickly follows him.
As they race through the automatic doors, the police cruiser
races up, screeches to a halt, its loud siren blaring in the
night air. The UNIFORMED OFFICER jumps out, pursues the
couple, his hand upon his holster...
An older man in a white lab coat, heavy-set and grave with
concern, greets the hurried couple. His name is DR. WEISMAN.
Robert, at last. Please. Follow me.
He hears the commotion behind him, the shouting of the police
It's alright, officer. This man is
He motions quickly to a FEMALE ATTENDANT behind the
See to him please.
Weisman turns his attention back to DOCTOR ROBERT DAMON and
his assistant, RACHEL CROSS. He motions them toward a wide
set of double-doors.
The doors open automatically with a swipe of an ID badge
hanging from the doctor's belt.
They walk hurriedly down the halls, their shoes clicking on
the linoleum floor.
An E.R. doctor, SANDERS - young, black, in green scrubs,
covered in sweat - waits for them at the entrance to the
Damon speaks with the polished air of a Brit...
This is my nurse and assistant,
In the operating room behind them, a frail figure on the
table, wearing bloody jeans and a tee-shirt, surrounded by
nurses and attendants, face covered in blood-soaked bandages.
(referring to the chart in
automobile accident. Broken
clavicle, fractured L5 vertebra, no
He looks up from his notes.
We've got her stabilized. Heart
rate, b.p., normal.
And now he continues reading the chart...
Broken cheekbones, left and right,
fractured nose. Her left eye-socket
has been practically demolished.
He holds the folder out for Damon. He takes it, opens it,
holds one up to the light.
(while looking at the x
The oral surgeon?
Lawrence Hathaway. He's a good man.
(glances at his watch)
Should be here within the hour.
The three are interrupted by the sudden appearance of a
NURSE. She hands Sanders a printed set of color photographs.
The doctor looks at them, passes them over to Damon.
I took the liberty of having the
nurse grab some images from the
girl's online profile...
(regarding the photos)
(nodding in agreement)
Damon looks up at the exhausted doctor.
You've done an excellent job here,
Doctor. Please, go grab yourself a
cup of coffee and relax. We'll take
it from here.
The doctor nods. He turns to go and then stops...
Good luck, Doctor.
Damon gives one last glance to Cross before heading into the
INT. ICU - NIGHT
Damon, Cross, another DOCTOR, and an ANESTHESIOLOGIST, all in
masks and scrubs, surround the operating table, at work on
Damon glances up, into the uncertain eyes of his assistant,
Rachel. He conveys to her a look of assurance.
INT. SCRUBBING AREA - LATER
Damon, exhausted, sits on the bench rubbing the bridge of his
nose. Behind him, Rachel appears. She unties his scrubs,
pushes them past his bare shoulders. She takes a towel and
tenderly dries the sweat from his torso.
Her hands drop the towel and now her fingers caress his bare
skin. She begins to move around him, to face him. He takes
her hands in his, squeezes them, and turns away.
Rachel looks at him full of longing.
EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT
The two ride in silence, Damon behind the wheel of his
Porsche. Rachel yearns to speak. Finally...
That girl was in pretty bad shape,
Damon nods, agreeing.
I hope you realize, you gave her
back her life tonight.
I wish I could take credit for
that, but the doctors had done a
fair job of stabilizing her before
we arrived. I think that doctor at
the hospital, Dr. Sanders, did an
I wasn't talking about that,
darling. I meant her life back as a
She looks at Damon, their eyes meet for a long beat.
(unable to hold it in)
How much longer do we have to go on
She bites her lip. Finally...
Campbell came by to see me again
earlier today. He had an envelope
She reaches into her bag and pulls out an 8x12 brown
envelope. On it, handwritten in bold, block letters: PHOTOS
DO NOT BEND.
Damon's eyes flicker to it, but he says nothing. From the
hurt in his eyes, it is upsetting to him. Rachel broaches the
subject with care...
He said there was --
For Heaven's sake, Rachel. Must we
get into this now?
She turns away, hurt. Nods.
EXT. RACHEL'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT
Damon pulls his car to the front of her apartment entrance.
Rachel reaches behind her seat for her things. She makes a
decision and stuffs the brown envelope into Damon's satchel,
without him seeing.
As she opens the door to leave, Damon's hand catches her.
She turns to look at him and he combs the hair from her eyes
with his fingers. A smile appears on his lips.
You were good in there tonight.
I know I haven't the right to ask,
Will you be patient with me?
She takes his hand and presses it against her cheek.
Of course I will.
She exits, and Damon watches her go. After she disappears
inside, Damon throws his car into gear and steps on the gas.
EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT
Damon's Porsche turns off the highway and onto a winding road
that leads to the shore.
EXT. DAMON'S MANSION - NIGHT
A behemoth castle, positioned on a low cliff, overlooking the
Damon roars his car to a stop on the circular driveway. He
climbs out, grabbing his things from behind the seat. Shoved
in his satchel, but unnoticed by him, is the brown envelope.
Damon pauses by the door, looks up at the large windowed
balcony overlooking the courtyard. It's vacant. Eerie.
INT. DAMON'S MANSION
Damon walks inside. The house is silent. He creeps up the
wide, winding staircase, the steps creaking under his weight.
He carefully opens the door to the bedroom. There is a large
window overlooking the balcony on the front of the house.
Lying asleep in the bed: EVELYN, his wife. She's asleep on
her side, a silk mask over her eyes. Damon pauses to look at
her. Even in the darkness, she radiates light.
Damon quietly shuts the door.
INT. DAMON'S STUDY - LATER
Damon, distressed. He's standing over his desk, looks at
something in his hands: COLORED 8x10 GLOSSIES from the brown
envelope. Each photo pains him more than the last. He
A creak in the floorboards behind him jolts him.
Evelyn stands looking at him in the doorway, the mask pushed
up to her forehead, a bourbon glass in her hands.
I assume you performed another one
of your miracles tonight?
Damon drops his hand holding a glossy. He turns to her.
Why do you dislike me so?
She leans against the jamb, stares into her drink.
I don't dislike you dear.
(looking at him)
I despise you.
She sips her drink and now it's her turn to shudder.
My skin crawls at the very sight of
For God's sake, why? Am I that
She looks down into her drink again.
It's your complete and utter apathy
that outrages me.
I want you to feel my pain. I want
you to suffer, my darling husband,
the way I suffer.
What? Because of the baby?
Her face flushes red with anger at the subject of her
anguish. She turns away from him.
You didn't even carry it to term,
Evelyn. It wasn't even fully for--
She pivots on him, eyes fiery with hatred.
It was a girl, Robert! Don't refer
to her as an object. A thing. Some
expensive possession, like that
cherished sports car of yours you
love so dearly. She was a child, a
human being. She was a part of me.
...it destroyed me.
His face softens...
Evelyn, if having a child is the
We can fix that.
No, we can't.
We can adopt. Women have
miscarriages. Women have
hysterectomies. They get on with
Evelyn moves past him to the bar, pours herself another stiff
one. After she lets the alcohol permeate her, she glances
down at the desk. She sees the glossy photos of her in the
arms of another man.
She scoffs, shakes her head.
I am surprised at this, Robert.
She spreads the photos across the desk with her fingers.
I didn't think you had it in you to
hire a private investigator. You're
too afraid of the truth. Who put
you up to this?
Damon says nothing.
Ah, the bitch. I might have known.
Leave Rachel out of this.
If I didn't know any better, I'd
suspect the two of you were having
What? You don't think I'm capable?
Oh, it's not you, dear. Let's just
say, I know Rachel. You're not her
And why is that? Because I'm a man
who desires -- deserves -- the love
and respect of a woman?
(under her breath)
You're half right.
He looks at her trying to comprehend. After a beat, Evelyn
dismisses the glossies with a flick of her fingers.
In light of all this, I don't think
it's wise for me to go away next
month to Aspen.
Damon releases a huge breath; he looks relieved.
I think I'll go away tomorrow,
after I pack my things.
She turns to leave and stops herself. She swipes one of the
photos off Damon's desk.
I think this one really captures my
essence, don't you?
She turns to leave. As she walks out of his office...
Be sure to send Rachel my love.
INT. DAMON'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Damon tosses and turns in his sleep.
INT. DAMON'S SUBCONSCIOUS
The swirling mist gives way to reveal Damon's dream. He sees
Rachel; seductive, wearing provocative lingerie, wielding a
riding crop. Bright red lipstick. Heavily painted eyes.
Garter belt. Seamed hose.
I want you.
She's motioning to him, writhing on a heart-shaped bed.
Come to me, darling...
In front of a full-length mirror, applying lipstick, looking
more business-like that sexual, stands Evelyn. She looks over
her shoulder at Rachel and scoffs.
Damon stands in between them, caught in the middle...
Make up your mind, Robert.
Rachel's hands go up to his shoulders, pushing away his
unbuttoned shirt, revealing his bare chest.
Kill her, darling. Bash her pretty
little brains in.
She deliberately strikes him on the side with her crop, as if
issuing an order. He winces in pain, but doesn't move.
Evelyn turns to face him, arms folded across her chest.
Who, Robert? Ha! He doesn't have
Rachel turns Damon to her, engulfs him in her arms, smothers
him with a kiss. Something catches her eye. She motions for
Damon to turn around, smiling.
Damon sees. Evelyn's LOVER is now beside her. Blond, bronze
and brawny. His arms wrap tightly around Evelyn, pulling her
close. The two regard Damon with contempt.
And he's supposedly a brilliant
doctor. Have you ever seen anything
Lover doesn't answer. He nibbles at her neck. His hands
invade Evelyn's body. She closes her eyes in enjoyment.
Damon stands watching. Rachel slithers up from behind...
(in Damon's ear)
Choke the life out of her, my
dearest darling. Squeeze her neck
until her pretty little head pops
Damon's hands rise, trembling. He places them around Evelyn's
windpipe. Evelyn hasn't reacted yet; still in the rapture of
her lover's arms. Rachel's eyes are filled with bloodlust.
Damon's grip tightens...
Evelyn's eyes pop open. Suddenly it's just Damon and Evelyn.
Evelyn struggles but Damon doesn't relent. He squeezes and
squeezes. His eyes filled with rage...
During all this, Rachel's shrill laughter fills his ears...
INT. BEDROOM - DAY
Damon sits upright, panting, torso covered in sweat. Light
pours through the open window. He rubs his eyes, rubbing away
the visions in his head.
A CAR DOOR slams shut from outside. Damon rises, goes to the
window. Looks down.
He sees Evelyn standing beside a YELLOW CAB, two suitcases at
her side. She turns, glances over her shoulder, as if feeling
someone's eyes on her. Damon continues to gaze down. A second
passes, and she disappears inside the cab.
Damon watches as the cab with Evelyn drives away.
EXT. CAB - DAY
The YELLOW CAB, winding its way along a tree-lined road.
Evelyn seems preoccupied. She stares out the window at the
passing landscape. She opens her purse, pulls out the
photograph she swiped from Damon's desk, looks at it.
She catches the eyes of the heavyset, East European CABBIE in
the reflection of the rearview mirror. She glances at the
license on the visor, notices the fat, stubby bat lying
lengthwise across the dash.
What's that for?
She indicates the well-worn club.
You don't believe in guns?
Guns need bullets. Bullets cost
money. Besides, bat never jams.
She nods, looks again at the photograph in her hands. A
thought comes to her.
Oh driver, I'd like to make a quick
detour before we arrive at the
The cabbie shrugs impassively.
EXT. DAMON PLASTIC SURGERY - DAY
A MODERN OFFICE with frosted glass windows. Etched on each
glass: the contour of a nude woman in an erotic pose.
INT. DAMON PLASTIC SURGERY
The doors open and a nondescript, well-dressed WOMAN enters
into the waiting room and goes to the front desk.
Moving about in various capacities is the OFFICE STAFF. They
are all young and attractive, each sporting stylish tunics
with Mandarin collars and deep V-necks.
The place oozes sophistication and class.
INT. TREATMENT ROOM
A MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN sits reclined in a chair. Standing beside
her is Rachel, who is notating her face with a skin marker.
You okay, Mrs. Macklin?
(off her nod)
Great. Now I'm just going to mark
your cheeks for your mid-face
fillers. This will give you a
little more cheek and in turn bring
up the entire lower face by lifting
it like so...
Rachel forms an arch with the gloved fingers of both hands.
Just like a suspension bridge.
You make it sound like construction
You're not too far off.
The woman glances down and sees the tattoo on the inside of
Rachel's wrist: a long, curvy stem of a green flower with
That's an interesting tattoo you
have. Is that a vine?
Any special meaning?
Rachel opens her mouth to answer, but she's interrupted by
the sudden appearance of GENEVIEVE, a member of the staff.
Quick, Rachel, come see what's on
Good Morning Portland right now.
Can it wait?
I'm telling you, you're not gonna
want to miss this...
(to the woman)
Excuse me one second.
INT. WAITING ROOM
Rachel joins other members of the staff as they stand facing
a large flat-screen television.
On screen is an ANCHORMAN from WCSH Channel 6 Portland.
And now from the health desk,
If wrinkles are making you avoid
mirrors, a 'vampire face-lift'
could just be the answer...
On the television appears Rachel, alongside a patient, in a
similar setting she was just in.
(pointing, using her own
face as a guide)
...The nasal labia fold, crows
feet, wrinkles on the forehead...
The rest of the staff gather around Rachel, their eyes glued
to the television.
We caught up with Rachel Cross,
physician's assistant and chief
Aesthetic technician at Damon
Plastic Surgery, in Portland
The increasing chatter of the staff causes Rachel's eyes to
narrow and she barks an order over her shoulder.
The women react and fall obediently silent.
As the newscast continues, an INCESSANT NOISE emanating from
nearby slowly grabs the spectators attention.
Genevieve cocks her head...
What the hell is that?
She then follows the noise down the hall, disappearing out
the rear door leading to the underground parking deck.
Sounds like a car alarm.
The women shrug it off and return their attention to the
television where the reporter continues...
And the reason for its ghoulish
nickname? Blood is "sucked" from
the arm and eventually reinjected
back into the patient's face.
The blood platelets are separated
from the fibrin which stimulates
the patient's own tissue to produce
Rachel is engrossed in watching herself on television.
Suddenly, Genevieve reappears, her face solemn.
Rachel, you better come back
Rachel, off of Genevieve's distressed look, takes the remote
and turns off the television. She leads Genevieve down the
hall and out to the garage. Others follow them.
INT. UNDERGROUND GARAGE
Employee parking. A car alarm WAILS at them. Rachel sees the
lights of her Range Rover flashing, all the windows smashed.
Oh my God, Rachel. Someone's broken
into your car...
Rachel approaches the car tentatively as Genevieve fishes a
phone out of her back pocket.
I'd better call the police...
Rachel sticks her head in, sees the crushed glass covering
the seats, the console, the dash. Lying in the driver's seat:
A CRUMPLED GLOSSY PHOTO.
Rachel leans in and retrieves it. It's a crease-covered photo
of Evelyn in the arms of her lover. She pulls her head out,
sees Genevieve making the call.
It's okay, don't worry about it.
I'm on the line now.
Hang up, Gen. I said I'll deal with
Genevieve's face is filled with confusion but she does as
Rachel asks. Rachel motions everyone to go back inside.
Okay, it's fine. That's enough
excitement for the morning.
Everyone, back to work.
Before Rachel follows them inside, she turns back to the car
one more time, and this time she sees the STUBBY CLUB lying
near the backseat. She reaches in and retrieves it.
She regards the bat with interest.
Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.