May 9, 2017
ASHFORD: Sara?
Sara idly traces the crook of her elbow with her fingers—the spot, hidden by her shirt, where the hash marks are written on her skin.
SARA: Mm.
ASHFORD: Sara, you said that you were going to tell us about Miranda.
SARA: That’s right. I can write it down, if you like. I think it will be easier that way. Can I do that? Can you add it to the rest?
ASHFORD: We can do that.
SARA: Good. Good. I want to tell you, you know.
ASHFORD: I know. This isn’t your fault, Sara.
SARA: Yes it is. Of course it is.
She reaches out for the pen and paper he offers, and begins to write. She writes only a few lines, and then she sits back. Ashford reaches out, a question on his face. She makes no objection, and he pulls the paper toward him. He looks down. His lips purse slightly, then flatten into a thin, hard line.
The door opens. Abby steps through.
ABBY: What did she say?
ASHFORD: We can discuss this outside.
She turns to Sara.
ABBY: What did she say to you?
She grabs the paper. Reads quickly. For an instant, she is completely still, eyes wide.
ASHFORD: Abby . . .
Abby lunges for Sara. Ashford is on his feet in an instant, catching her by the shoulder, holding her back as Sara first laughs, then lets out a sob and buries her face in her hands. He presses the page from the legal pad into Abby’s hands.
ASHFORD: This is just another piece of evidence for the file. Go add it to the rest. And take a walk.
She seethes.
ASHFORD: Abby. You know what this is. Don’t let it affect you like this.
She grabs the page and strides out, slamming the door behind her. Ashford rubs a hand across his jaw.
ASHFORD: I’m sorry about that.
Sara makes a noncommittal noise, straightening up. She looks, if anything, puzzled. She picks at her sleeve.
ASHFORD: I think we’re all feeling the strain.
SARA: I’m okay.
ASHFORD: You’ve been through a lot today.
SARA: I’ve just been talking to you.
ASHFORD: That’s right. We’re just talking. And I think we’re most of the way there. Almost to the end of the road, as it were. Do you need anything?
SARA: I guess I’m pretty hungry. Dr. Ashford?
ASHFORD: Yes?
SARA: Are you ever going to tell me why the door is locked? If I wanted to leave, would you let me?
ASHFORD: What do you think, Sara? Why would I be keeping you in here against your will?
She frowns.
SARA: There’s no reason. Is there?
ASHFORD: I’d like you to be able to answer that for yourself.
She bites her lip.
SARA: Dr. Ashford, where’s my sister? Is Becca here? Is she with you?
Ashford hesitates.
ASHFORD: I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see your sister right now, Sara.
SARA: Why not?
ASHFORD: As I said, I think it’s better if you remember for yourself.
SARA: I did something, didn’t I?
ASHFORD: That’s what we’re here to find out. Let’s keep going, shall we?
SARA: Weren’t you going to ask me about Miranda?
Ashford looks pained.
ASHFORD: Later. For now, just . . . walk us through the lighthouse.