A crisp clear midwinter morning.

An extreme long shot presents the house.

Detached, Deserted, Defenceless.

 

There is nobody in sight.

 

There is a cut and we find ourselves in the kitchen of the house.

It is empty.

 

The kitchen is vastly decorated in black and white,

Filled with small potted plants, vintage decorations and a number of electricals.

The surfaces clean and shiny.

 

It is very cared for, everything placed with a purpose.

It meets the stereotype of a happy, peaceful household.

A clock ticks quietly, breaking the silence.

Tick, tick, tick…

 

A young woman enters through the doorway.

She is in her early-mid-twenties.

Her dark hair is tied up in a messy, un-styled bun.

 

Her face is bare of makeup, showing her vulnerability.

She is tired. But still smiling.

Still dressed in her pyjamas- a sleeping shirt and a pair of grey shorts.

 

We can hear her slippers hitting against the hardwood floor as she passes through the kitchen.

She switches on the small radio that rests in a corner.

She turns the sound to low, not wanting to wake up anyone who might be in the house.

 

A song begins to play from it.

The song is joyful, creating a calm, peaceful mood in the room.

It is something like: ‘Raise your Glass’ or ‘Valerie’ (or classic fm)

 

On the black granite counter in front of her she places a white baby monitor.

The light is green- indicating it is on.

 No noise is coming from the monitor.

 

The woman goes about making her cup of tea. Peacefully.

She takes a plain ceramic mug from the mug tree.

She flicks the switch on the kettle.

 

A call cries out from the baby monitor.

The cry is desperate- the baby has woken.

The woman stops preparing her tea.

 

She turns to the doorway.

She stops in her tracks.

Frozen.

 

A dark figure stands, idle, in the doorway.

Another woman?

Her face is shadowed.

 

Her identity? A mystery.

 

Her hand is clenching a knife. A long kitchen knife.

 

The woman who holds the knife begins her attack.

The cuts between shots get faster.

The camera angles more varied.

 

It is disorienting.

 

The music is still playing in the background.

The pace getting faster as the tension and action builds.

The song becoming distorted and crazy.

 

We hear a gut-wrenching scream.

Silence.

The camera zooms into the kettle and it finishes boiling.

 

The screen goes black.

 

The screen is dark for a long time.

A voice comes up over the baby monitor, the baby’s cries quieting.

“Shhh. It’s ok – I’m here. I’m here.”

 

We see the body.

She is strung up on red string as if she is a puppet.

Set up to look as if she was making a cup of tea.

Her body limp against the strings.

 

There is a slit across her throat.

All of the blood has been drained from her body, and she has small bruises scattered over her body.

The light on the baby monitor flickers.

 

The voice whispers “Shhhh. Mummy’s here”

 

Cut to black.