May 9, 2017
Sara stares down at the page she’s written. Slowly, deliberately, she sets the pen to the side. And then she begins to tear the page in two.
ASHFORD: Sara, don’t—
He reaches for her. She slaps his hand away.
SARA: Don’t! Don’t touch it. You can’t—
They grapple with the pad of paper. He wins, pulling it free of her as she shrieks.
SARA: It isn’t true! None of that is true. I lied. I lied to you. Nothing happened. I sat alone. I sat alone until they came to find me. None of that is true.
With every word, the frantic strain in her voice settles. Her hands go flat against the table. She looks levelly at Ashford. He skims the page, glancing quickly between the words and the girl.
SARA: It’s nonsense.
ASHFORD: Is that so.
SARA: I don’t know why I wrote it. None of that happened.
Ashford remains silent.
SARA: You don’t believe me.
ASHFORD: I believe that you are telling me the truth, as you understand it. Some memories are hard to hold on to. But I think this one is important. I want you to think about the crows, Sara. I want you to count them. They’re bread crumbs, leading you to the memories you’ve lost. Miranda gave you a tool. Hold that in your mind as long as you can. I’ll be back in a moment.
SARA: Where are you going?
ASHFORD: I think it’s time that you spoke to your sister.