May 9, 2017
Sara sits alone at the interview table, staring into the middle distance. She hums softly, a formless tune that collapses in on itself after a dozen notes. Her fingers tap against the table in that familiar, regular rhythm. Note: Camera was left rolling unintentionally between interviews. We do not believe she was aware she was being recorded.
SARA: You want to know about Miranda. I knew that Miranda was dead. I knew—
The tapping stops. She flattens her hand against the table, whimpers. She bends her head over the table, cupping her face in her hands.
SARA: The Liar’s Gate, the Sinner’s Gate, the Blind Man’s Gate. The Gate of Many Doors. The field. The flood. The first in the dark. The second on the road. Then the beast and the field and then—
She slams her hand down on the table, whipping her head up.
SARA: You can’t do this to me! You can’t do this! You can’t—
She falls suddenly silent. She walks to the door, tries it. Locked. When she speaks again, her voice is calm.
SARA: You can’t keep me in here forever, you know.
Her hand drops from the knob. She turns. Sinks to the ground with a moan. Her fingers catch against the edge of her sleeve, pulling it up to reveal the words written there: REMEMBER YS.
And near the crook of her elbow, hash marks. Three clusters of lines, further grouped, each dash of ink perhaps an inch long. 1-5-1, 1-4-3, 2-5-2.
SARA: One and five and one. One and four and three. Two and five and two. One and five and one. One and four and three. Two and five and two.
Her fingertips probe the lines. Her breathing eases.
SARA: Little tricks. They don’t change anything.
She lets her head fall back. After a few minutes, she pulls down her sleeve, hiding the writing once more. She stands and walks to the table. When Ashford enters several minutes later, she appears perfectly calm.
ASHFORD: Miss Donoghue. Can I get you anything before we get started again? Something to drink?
SARA: No, I just want to get started.
ASHFORD: All right. I believe we were just talking about your exit from the mansion.
SARA: Yes. And then—I think—I think I’d like to tell you about Miranda.
ASHFORD: Is that so?
SARA: It’s hard to . . . There’s a pattern to things. Like a map. You have to go in order.
ASHFORD: In order?
SARA: One and five and one. One and four and three. Two and five and two. We’re almost there.
ASHFORD: I see.
He does not sound as if he sees at all, but Sara nods.
SARA: But first we have to talk about the field.