ASYLUM
Story by r3dw0lfspRit on SoFurry
An original screenplay by yours truly. A young woman must learn to live within the system of Hill County’s mental rehabilitation center. Will she survive, or will she succumb to the psychological perils within?
ASYLUM
SCENE 1
[A black screen. White letters in all-caps read _HILL COUNTY MENTAL REHABILITATION CENTER, JANUARY 19XX. A buzzer sounds as the words fade to black and a door opens. Bright white light fills the screen.]_
ASHLEY ZIMMANS (narrating): Time. Time to wake up. Time to crawl out of my so-called “bed” made up of scratchy blankets and sheets so thin you swear you can see right through ‘em. Time to strip down ‘til I’m naked and cold. Time for my morning bath, where I’m uncomfortably probed until every part of me—inside and out—is dripping wet with soap and water.
[Closeup on a woman’s bare shoulders being scrubbed with a brownish-yellow sponge. The woman’s skin is pale; she is muscular. Cut to a wide shot of the woman’s room.]
ASHLEY ZIMMANS (narrating): Home sweet home. Four—no, three and two-thirds—whitewashed walls and a door. My room. My sanctuary. My world away from the prying, medicinally altered eyes and ears of other “patients”, deemed “mentally unstable” and “a danger to themselves and society” as I’ve been diagnosed.
[A young black-haired man in a white hospital uniform leaves, closing the door. Moments later a black woman opens the door carrying a tray of meds and a clipboard.]
NURSE: Time for your morning cocktail, Miss Zimmans.
ASHLEY ZIMMANS: (shaking her head) No, no, please. I don’t belong—
NURSE: Miss Zimmans, I know things may be hard to understand, your being new here and all, but these are designed to help you relax. Especially after last night....
ASHLEY ZIMMANS: But that wasn’t my fault! I don’t belong here, do you understand me? I. Don’t. Belong here.
NURSE: Miss Zimmans, I promise, just take your medicine and I’ll leave you alone.
ASHLEY ZIMMANS: Medicine. (laughing) Medicine? Is that what we’re calling these fucking pills now? Medicine?
NURSE: Miss Zimmans, you can take your morning medicine voluntarily or we can administer them for you.
ASHLEY ZIMMANS: You think I wanna be like all these other “patients” around here?! No fucking way!
NURSE: I thought you might say that. Doctor Boshman, please secure the patient.
ASHLEY ZIMMANS: No, no please! St-Stay away from me! No!
[Ashley closes her eyes. Blackout.]
SCENE 2
[A black screen with white letters in all-caps, _MARCH, 19XX.]_
DOCTOR: She’s been rather resistant, to say the least.
JARED: I can’t imagine why, Doctor, with such a, a ground-breaking facility you’ve got here.
[A doctor dressed in a white lab coat walks beside a reporter dressed in an olive trench coat down a white hallway. It is raining outside.]
DOCTOR: Some of our patients, such as Miss Zimmans are afflicted with what we call superior opposition disorder. Some patients exhibit destructive behavior, such as severe mood swings.
JARED: Mood swings?
DOCTOR: Indeed. One moment they can be completely calm, the next, rushing towards you or punching holes in the walls.
JARED: And how does the Hill County Mental Rehabilitation Center counter this sort of aggression, Doctor?
DOCTOR: Our staff is well-versed in personal restraint procedures, should the need arise. We also have at our disposal various mood stabilizers and therapeutic services to stave off most hostile patients.
JARED: Do those therapeutic services include isolation or forced restraint?
DOCTOR: If it outweighs the negative effects of the patient’s symptoms, then yes.
[The two men stop beside a nurses’ station.]
JARED: I see. And what about the rumors that—
DOCTOR: I apologize, Jared, but I must cut our interview short. Nurse Graham?
NURSE GRAHAM: Doctor?
DOCTOR: Please escort our guest to the main entrance.
NURSE GRAHAM: Yes Doctor. Sir, if you’d follow me, please.
JARED: Of course. Always a pleasure, Doctor Boshman.
DOCTOR: (nodding) Likewise, Jared.
[Jared follows Nurse Graham to the main entrance.]
NURSE GRAHAM: Here we are, sir.
JARED: Thank you, miss.
NURSE GRAHAM: Of course, sir. Thanks for visiting.
JARED: (laughing) My pleasure. Take care now.
[Jared exits, making his way to the parking ramp nearby. Blackout.]
SCENE 3
[Nighttime. Rain pelts Ashley’s window as she sits in a bottom bunk with her legs drawn close to her. A roommate, Frida, lies awake above her.]
ASHLEY ZIMMANS (singing softly): Rain, rain, go away; come again another day—
FRIDA: Girl, you better shut your mouth up before I come down there and smack that song right off your lips. Bad enough I got an itch I can’t scratch cuz these damn mittens they got me in.
ASHLEY: Sorry, Rida.
FRIDA: Bitch, how many times I gotta tell you, it’s Frida! Not no Fry or Da or Rida. Frrrrriiiidaaaaa, you got me? Name’s Frida.
ASHLEY: Frida, right. Sorry.
FRIDA: How you like it if I call you Ash or Lee, huh?
ASHLEY: I wouldn’t.
FRIDA: That’s right, you wouldn’t. So shut up and go to sleep already. (under her breath) Damn pasty white girl don’t know nothing, singin’ ‘bout rain an’ shit like some horror movie. Bitch don’t pull that shit on me.
ASHLEY: Frida?
FRIDA: Now what?
ASHLEY: You’re, um, (covering her mouth with a blanket) you’re talking to yourself.
FRIDA: Ya say what now?
ASHLEY: Um, y-you were talking to yourself.
FRIDA: And you was singing ‘bout rain an’ shit like this some scary movie or somethin’!
ASHLEY: Oh, right. Sorry.
FRIDA: Yeah, yeah....
[Frida goes back to sleep.]
ASHLEY: Frida?
FRIDA: WHAT?!
ASHLEY: Um, g-good night.
FRIDA: Bitch, shut the fuck up and go to sleep! Damn!