WIP for Quarantine: Day #20

Quarantine the play will be posted on here for public feedback and review as Euginia writes for the next few weeks.  The Google Doc can also be accessed here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eKNAeAFOjgluewXPGfNissWO6meg5p6VKgsfFxZq_pk/edit?usp=sharing 

Quarantine

A daughter attempts to negotiate a murder on her mother during their time of quarantine.

Mother

Daughter

Scene 6

(continued from previous entry)

The next day. Mother is tidying the house.

Daughter is making a meal.

Daughter: I don’t feel good about this.

Mother hums.

Daughter: Mother, I said. I don’t feel good about this.

Mother: Well, cook something else then.

Daughter: Not the food. You know what I’m talking about! The plan!

Beat.

Daughter: The plan for later? When the radio comes? How do we even know…

Mother: They’ll come at the same time.

Beat.

Mother: You seemed to think it was a good idea last night.

Daughter: Because I was tired, and wanted to sleep! So I just went along with it!

Mother: Then stay here. I’ll do it myself.

Daughter: How…

Mother: I’m going to. Nothing’s going to change that.

Daughter: And the body? Do we just leave it there? You haven’t even thought it out far enough!

Mother: There’s too many of them. They wouldn’t care about one person.

Daughter: Yes, but they’d come to find out sooner or later!

Mother: Then we just… Let it happen. Look at us.

Beat.

Mother: A single mother, driven out of her mind. Her only child, forced to depend on no one else.

Beat.

Mother: They’d let us off easy. What’s the worst they can do? And in times like this…

Beat.

Mother: Any death not caused by the virus would just be… another death.

Daughter: That’s how you’ve thought of us all these years? Like some kind of crumbling unit?

Beat.

Daughter: Has it worked to your advantage somehow? Thinking of us as some…. disempowered state of being?

Daughter finishes cooking.

Daughter: We should eat something.

They sit down to eat.

Daughter: If they come before the meal, we…

Beat.

Daughter: We finish eating after we do it.

Mother: This tastes good.

Beat.

Mother: So you do want to do it.

Daughter: Are you going to answer me?

Beat.

Mother: Could use a little pepper.

The door opens. A package is about to be dropped in.

Mother and Daughter spring into action.

They rush out the door and grab the guard who has dropped off the package.

Mother takes out a knife. She wounds the guard. The guard is slightly weakened, tries to struggle back.

Daughter: (begins to cry) Mother, I can’t… I can’t….

Mother continues hurting the guard.

Mother: The only way to get by in this world, sometimes, is to be seen as useless! As weak!

Daughter: Why couldn’t you answer me just now…

Mother: I had to survive! I had to… (begins to break down) Do things I didn’t want to do…

Daughter attempts to hurt the guard.

Daughter: Me too, me too…

Mother: Your father was but a common man… I couldn’t believe he had it in him to leave our life…

Daughter now hurts the guard more confidently. The guard starts to yell.

Daughter: You both were common people… I can’t believe you’d decide to add to this miserable place…

Mother: And you, a common child!

Daughter: What’s my name then, Mother?

The guard is heavily wounded at this point. More guards come. Mother and Daughter are surrounded and restrained.

Daughter: Children lose their names to their parents too.

Mother: Girl, the air… Can you smell it?

Daughter: Yes… It’s….

Mother: It’s fresh. Like you said. It’s clean.

Daughter: They lied. You all lied to us!

Mother: I love you.

The guards sedate them.

Scene 7 will be up on Wednesday and the entire play will be published on 22 May.

WIP for Quarantine: Day #20

Quarantine the play will be posted on here for public feedback and review as Euginia writes for the next few weeks.  The Google Doc can also be accessed here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eKNAeAFOjgluewXPGfNissWO6meg5p6VKgsfFxZq_pk/edit?usp=sharing 

Quarantine A daughter attempts to negotiate a murder on her mother during their time of quarantine. Mother Daughter

Scene 5

(continued from previous entry)

The next day, the house is slightly messier again than the previous day.

Mother and Daughter are asleep.

The door suddenly opens, a package is dropped indoors. Disinfecting gas fills the room.

Mother and Daughter wake up, coughing.

Mother: What…

Daughter is still coughing.

Mother: Breathe. Try to breathe!

Daughter: I… I can’t…

Mother rushes to get some water. As she gets the water, she notices the package at the door.

Mother hands Daughter the water, retrieves the package.

Mother: Look. Look!

Daughter: (while drinking water) What?

Mother: This came.

Daughter opens the package. She takes out a radio device, similar to the one she had broken.

Mother: A radio. A radio!

Mother is seized with uncontrollable joy.

Mother: We can fix it. And now, we can know!

She sets about fixing the radio.

Daughter: Don’t.

Mother is still fixing the radio.

Daughter: Don’t! How do they know?

Mother pauses.

Daughter stands.

Daughter: How do they know our radio’s broken?

Mother: There must be some… wireless connection.

Daughter: They’re watching us, Mother.

Mother: That’s stupid!

She fixes the radio.

Mother: There. It’s set up.

She looks at the radio.

Mother: There.

Beat.

Mother: Well, I’ll turn it on now.

She goes to turn it on, but is reluctant to.

Mother: You do it.

Daughter: No. I didn’t even want to set it up!

Mother touches her neck, where she’s cut herself.

Mother: You do it.

Daughter goes near the radio.

Daughter: I don’t want to touch it. We don’t know who’s touched it. We don’t know why it’s here. We don’t know anything!

Mother: That is why we need it!

Daughter: Let’s give it some time. Can we?

Mother paces.

Mother: Can we do it now?

Daughter: What if they’ve watched us, all these days?

Mother: So what?

Daughter: They… They’ve seen everything! They’ve heard everything! That we’ve done here!

Beat.

Mother: Then, we make like nothing happened.

Beat.

Mother: It’s here now, and nothing’s happening. So.

Beat.

Mother: Nothing’s happened.

Daughter: But… We…

Mother suddenly notices the house is messy.

Mother: Ah! It’s time to tidy!

Daughter: We were finally talking.

Mother: Help me out with these things, would you? And our clothes. Look at us! We need a change.

Daughter: Can we leave it? As it was?

Mother tidies. The house is relatively neat again.

Mother: It’s always been this way!

Beat.

Mother: Will you turn it on now?

Beat.

Mother: You’ve got to do something around here.

Daughter: Don’t you want to know when I first wanted to kill you?

Beat.

Daughter: Aren’t you even a little bit curious?

Beat.

Daughter: I was nine. I saw a dead bird outside the house.

Beat.

Daughter: It was mangled at the neck.

Beat.

Daughter: You chose a hand bag over me.

Mother: I did no such thing.

Daughter: When I was nine.

Mother: Ridiculous.

Daughter: You did. You were getting dressed, and you were picking out a bag.

Beat.

Daughter: And I asked, “Mom, would you choose me over that bag?”

Beat.

Daughter: And you said…

Mother: This is rubbish.

Daughter: You said, “I worked hard for that bag.”

Mother goes to switch on the radio.

The radio emits static sounds.

Mother: It’s not set up properly.

Daughter: That’s because it’s not meant to be heard!

Mother fiddles with the radio, but it still doesn’t work.

Daughter: I’d never known hate like that day. And the bird… It appeared in my head.

Mother: This useless thing!

Mother ends up destroying the radio.

Mother: This worthless, battered piece of junk!

Daughter: Was I better off dead?

Mother: Yes. Yes! We both are!

Daughter: Why did you choose it over me?

Mother: I really, really worked hard, for anything I’ve ever owned!

Beat.

Daughter: Except me.

Mother: This is entirely different! I don’t remember that day. I don't know what I was doing, feeling… I don’t know. I might have eaten an entire pie of shit that day, and said that! And you were the closest thing to take it out on! Okay?

Beat.

Mother: Just like how, I am now, to you!

Daughter: You taught me to want to hurt you!

Mother: Of course. Blame all your faults on me. Because I have to be so bloody responsible for everything!

Daughter: You can't keep using that as your excuse!

Mother: Oh, I can’t? And you can, with all this talk of murder and dead birds? When you were nine? How many years ago was this? Why is it even still in your little head?

Daughter: They’re my memories! I can’t erase them!

Mother: Oh yes, you can.

Beat.

Mother: You just don’t want to. And I could. I’ve erased every memory you’ve been in, for the past few days, so we can get some goddamn peace!

Daughter: Remember, we might be watched.

Beat.

Daughter: Do you really want the world to know you hate your only child?

Mother: Why not! You’ve been babbling on about how you’re trying to kill your only parent!

Daughter: Because I don’t care! I don’t care if anyone knows! I want you to know!

Beat.

Daughter: But you care, because you want to love me in public. Not in private.

Mother: No mother loves fully in private.

Beat.

Mother: Not one.

Beat.

Mother: You’ve said your piece. And I don’t want us to talk like this anymore.

Beat.

Mother: The door will open again tomorrow. And probably, a new radio will come. And we can make a plan. We can barge out of there, the both of us, together. We can overtake them together.

Daughter: What if there’s more than one of them?

Mother: How’s that going to stop us? Pent up anger is more lethal than any force.

Daughter: Maybe we don’t have to be angry anymore, Mother. Maybe we could use this chance to….

Beat.

Daughter: To… work this out.

Mother laughs.

Daughter: What… What’s so funny, Mother?

Mother: This is what I mean! You and your dreams!

Daughter: I was just trying to help….

Mother: What’s holding us together all these years?

Beat.

Mother: It’s our anger. At each other! When that’s gone… You’d be void.

Daughter: That’s not true. I’d give anything to stop being angry at you.

Mother: Do you know yourself without your anger?

Daughter: Y-Yes…. There’s lots of things about me, without my anger.

Mother: Well, good for you. Because my anger is up to my ears, ringing every day, and you won’t even let me turn on a radio to block, it, out!

Daughter: But you can just… chuck it!

Mother: I’m not free, like you. Or that bird you saw.

Beat.

Mother: We’re cooped up now. You feel it now. But I’ve been cooped up before this, for all my life.

Beat.

Mother: I can do everything right. And neat. And cleanly. But I also can do everything wrong. And every day, the more right I do… The more wrong I feel. You can call it what you want. The doctors have names for it now. You can study the mind in all manner of ways to try to make sense. But some people are born content. And then… I think there are others like me. Just trying to…. Do. But we don’t say it to each other. What good would it do? Can pity help? Medicines? Exercise? Purpose? A child? All these words meld into one thing and everything just means one thing: a distraction. From yourself.

Beat.

Mother: And there is a magic, secret word that seems to work. Love. People throw it around or revere it. It’s supposed to work wonders. But it’s so elusive, so ordinary… I can’t tell anymore. There are too many things like love, these days.

Beat.

Mother: Let’s say we tell each other, we love each other. The moment passes. We hold on to the moment. But the world moves a little and we would forget. Losing grasp of that, for me… I lose everything.

Beat.

Mother: Do you love me? Still?

Pause. Daughter goes to touch Mother’s neck.

Daughter: I do.

WIP for Quarantine: Day #18

Quarantine the play will be posted on here for public feedback and review as Euginia writes for the next few weeks.  The Google Doc can also be accessed here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eKNAeAFOjgluewXPGfNissWO6meg5p6VKgsfFxZq_pk/edit?usp=sharing 

Quarantine

A daughter attempts to negotiate a murder on her mother during their time of quarantine.

Mother

Daughter

Scene 4

(continued from previous entry)

Night falls. Daughter is asleep.

Mother paces around the room.

She watches Daughter sleeping. She reaches out to touch Daughter.

Daughter wakes up.

Daughter: What’s wrong?

Beat.

Daughter: It’s late. Let’s get some rest.

Beat.

Daughter: The day will be long tomorrow.

Mother: I want to walk out of here.

Daughter sits up.

Daughter: What?

Mother: I want to walk out of here.

Daughter: Why?

Mother: You’re right about me. I never did anything for myself.

Daughter: I didn’t…

Mother: I’m old. There isn’t much I want to do for myself. You’re grown. There is less I can do for you.

Daughter: I…

Mother: And since you wanted me gone… I should get rid of myself.

Daughter: You saw how they were when I tried to walk out. They’d just push you back in and gas the room.

Beat.

Mother: Not at this time, they won’t.

Beat.

Mother: Can you hear that?

Daughter: Hear what?

Mother: Precisely. Nothing.

Beat.

Mother: It’s that time of the night when nothing can be heard.

Beat.

Mother: I have to make use of it, fast.

Daughter: Please, don’t.

Mother: I should go now.

Mother makes to leave. Daughter holds her back.

Daughter: Please! Don’t!

Mother: I can’t. I can’t. I have to. I’d rather die out there… Then… Then letting you kill me.

Daughter: I won’t ask to kill anymore. I won’t. Okay?

Mother: But you already asked. Don’t you see?

Daughter: Please, Mother.

Mother: You already asked.

Daughter: If you go, what…

Beat.

Daughter: What will become of me?

Mother: You can finally… Be rid of me. Like you wanted. I don’t quite care.

Daughter: I…

Mother: Is that not what you want?

Beat.

Daughter: I do.

Mother: That settles it then.

Daughter: But I can’t let you go.

Mother: Why?

Beat.

Daughter: I don’t know.

Beat.

Daughter: This is not the way I wanted you to go.

Mother: You don’t deserve to tell me how I want to go!

Beat.

Mother: What gives you the right over my life!

Daughter: You’re right, you’re right. I don’t.

They get into another tussle. Daughter manages to subdue Mother, by holding a knife to her neck.

Mother: I won’t let you kill me. I will die on my own terms!

Daughter: Please! Don’t! I don’t want to do this!

Mother: You wanted to. You wanted to. Fine! Do it. Do it! I give up!

Daughter: Please… Don’t push me…

Mother manages to get the knife. She makes a cut on herself.

The blood drips. Daughter screams.

Daughter: No!

The knife falls.

Mother: It…

Beat.

Mother: It hurt.

Daughter rushes to get medical supplies for Mother’s wound. She tends to Mother’s wounds.

Mother: It hurt.