Setting: Inside of a rundown 2-bedroom, one bath, one level house. Small, cramped and messy. Items are mostly “free-bes' ' hand-me downs and found on the side of the road.

Characters:

Her- a wife and a mother. Main character. Madly in love with “Him”, prides herself in being a mother. All actions are for the betterment of her family and what is best for them. Meek, Quiet, Skitish. Has been highly abused. Fought with her parents and moved away from home.

Him- Powerful presence. The “Child” and “Her” are both extremely scared of him. “Her” is madly in love with him, and he is madly in love with “Her”. He does what he believes is right and does not consider himself abusive. When seen by the audience he is loving and kind. Not to

seem abusive at all.

Child- Find comfort in their mother, scared of their father. Suffers from nightmares regularly and the fear of monsters. Is used to seeing their mother beaten and bruised.

Her Mom’s Voice- Hasn’t seen or heard from her daughter in years. Used to be close to my daughter but since the fight they haven’t talked and do not know where she is. Has always disproven her taste in men, does not know about grandchild.

Her Dad’s Voice- Hasn’t seen or heard from her daughter in years. Does not know son-in law is abusive or that he has a grandchild.

           The lights are dim on the interior of a kitchen. There is a screened porch door in the kitchen acting as the door to the outside. There are a few packed bags by the door, tossed there. There is also broken glass on the floor and counter. The whole house is messy and “lived” in, but not dirty. No resemblance of a child living in the home can be seen.

           At the start Her back is to the audience and is to stay turned to keep her face hidden. She bandages the man’s hand, carefully and works gently often looking at him for reassurance. He pays no attention to her looking elsewhere, occasionally drinking from his beer.

            When finished He grabs his beer, leaves through the screened porch door. He stays outside and slowly smokes a cigarette or 2, calming his nerves. Meanwhile she collects everything from the first aid kit and cleans up the broken glass having her back always turned to the audience.

           When finished with his beer he tosses it on the ground and finishes his cigarette. When he reenters the screen door slaps shut. This produces a small, but noticeable flinch from her. He stays in the doorway watching her carefully as she cleans blood from the ground, and cleans

other aspects of the fight from the kitchen. He moves from where he was, closer watching her. He cups her face and kisses her cheek.

Him: I love you.

         She nods, and he walks away entering their bedroom. He gets ready for bed, and exits their room, getting a new beer moving to the couch. He sits down and turns on the TV, while she cleans in the kitchen. He drinks his beer, once done he begins to fall asleep. He eventually gets up and goes to bed. She is left alone in the kitchen. When she realizes she is alone she lets out a sigh of relief and continues to clean the kitchen, back turned to the audience. She turns on the gas stove. She watches the flame for a moment before going and moving the kettle to the burner. She then proceeds to get a mug, placing it on the counter, and then preps to make tea. She turns around towards the audience, with her head down as she walks towards the bathroom. She takes a moment to stare between her room and the stove. She then walks into the bathroom. Turning on a light she looks into a mirror, which is the audience. This is the first real time the audience can see the abuse and damage of her face. She

has been badly beaten and covered in blood, even in her hair. She looks over her face in shock. Softly touching her face, she winces in pain. She turns on the water and wets a face cloth that is on the sink. She slowly cleans her face in the mirror, often washing the blood from her cloth.

After she has cleaned her face and wounds, she takes a minute to look at herself. Staring herself down. She reaches up and clasps the gold cross dangling from her neck. She begins to softly cry staring to herself. She takes a deep breath and then rips the necklace off of her neck.

She holds it up Infront her face looking up at it. She then places it to her heart and closes her eyes for a moment. She then makes a cross on herself, eyes still closed, kisses the necklace. She reopens her eyes and holds it in front of her.

Her: dropping her cross necklace down the sink May God forgive me...

       The kettle starts to whistle jarring her away. she turns and leaves the bathroom turning out the light. She moves the kettle from the stove and pours the hot water into her teacup. She returns the kettle to a different burner. She stirs the sugar into her tea. She stares at the flame. She reaches out hesitantly to turn off the stove, stopping just before she touches it. She then moves her hand to her chest where her necklace lies. She crouches beside the stove. She looks back towards her room and then blows out the flame.

         The hissing of the gas can be heard. She then stands and shakily sips her tea. Looking around the kitchen she notices a carbon monoxide detector. She sets down her tea, walks to it, taking it off the wall. She takes out the batteries and throws them in the trash, returning the detector to the wall. She takes a moment to drink her tea, contemplating what she has done. Actions showing regret or to stop it may be seen. After finishing her tea, she washes her mug slowly, and places it in a drying rack.

       She takes a moment to look at her surroundings.

The house is messy, and she begins in the kitchen cleaning, wincing in pain occasionally. She looks at a clock, or her phone, etc. and it reads late at night. She holds a phone. she dials and then places the phone to her ear. Ringing through the line, then voicemail can be heard.

Female voice: Hello, sorry we are unable to come to the phone right now. Please leave your

name and number, and we’ll return your call as soon as possible. Thank you."

Her: Mom... mom it's me. I know we haven't talked in years, but mom.... I really need you to call me back, please call me back as soon as you get this.

         The phone line clicks, and she is left staring at the stove. She then frantically dials the same number again. The ringing then voicemail can be heard again.

Female voice: Hello, sorry we are unable to come to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number, and we’ll return your call as soon as possible. Thank you."

Her: It’s me again. I realized. I realized, forgot to say something, earlier. I, um, I, I love you.... I do, I love all of you. Mom, I’m sorry for... I’m sorry for everything. I hope you don’t hate me.... I love you so much. Please don’t blame yourself....

She hangs up again visibly upset. She occasionally stares at the stove. She moves away from cleaning and into her bedroom. She gently tidies in there, being very careful not to wake him up. She cleans up mostly clothing from the floor and puts it in a hamper. She then goes to a vanity. She pulls out pajamas, a nightie- long enough to cover her butt and some sort of bottom, and places them on top. With her back to the audience, she takes off her shirt, in her bra and pants, large viable bruising is seen, possibly boot mark, or bruising of a cracked rib can be used. She makes a point to not look at the mirror. She quietly puts on her nightie, undoes her bra and takes it off and then removes her pants and puts on shorts or pajama pants. Her legs can also

have bruising. She puts her clothing in the hamper and begins to comb her hair. She completes a nightly routine of sorts.

         She carefully sits down next to him, as if to not even disturb the bed. He stirs and she freezes.

Her: Are you awake...?

long pause.

I love you too, honestly... I love you so much it hurts.

No response.

I’m sorry...I’m sorry for it to all go and and.. I, I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t do this, any of it. I don’t want us to live like this. I want us to be happy again.

She sits up for a while, contemplating her actions. She eventually lies down next to him, Soft, sad music begins to play. A projection turns on as the lights dim, besides maybe a nightlight or lamp left on in the living room.

Family photos of her begin to play, like flipping through a photo album. Her family, herself, meeting him, showing a progression of time and worsening of conditions. Especially after leaving home.

As the music fades out, another door opens and a small child walk out. The child wipes their faces, as if they have been crying and walks into their parents bedroom. They look at their father in fear, especially if he moves or makes a noise. They quietly walk to their mother side of

the bed. They build up courage and shake their mom’s shoulder. She gasps awake.

Child: Mommy, he's back.... I’m scared

She looks over at him in fear. She sits up.

Her: Shhh it’s okay, come on. I’ll read you to sleep.

She gets up and follows the child out of her room, both being very quiet. She is to be in front of the child and far enough away from the child at all times that the bruising on her face isn’t super noticeable to the child. The walk into the living room on the way to the child’s room.

The child stops and stares at the door...

Child: Can I sleep on the couch tonight? He’s in there...

Her: He’s not in there baby...

She stares at her scared child

Her: Watch, I’ll go check...

She goes inside the room. The child watching in fear. She walks back out.

Her: Mommy just checked, he's not...

Sighs, looking between the kitchen and the child

Her: Yeah, okay, come on. Go get your plushie. You can sleep on the couch tonight, and only tonight.

Child: And I won’t tell daddy..

Her: and we won’t tell daddy...

The child smiles and goes to their room, while Her clears off the couch, and picks up the book I’ll Love You Forever By Robert Munsch. The child returns with a blanket, and a teddy bear. She sits down and the child curls up next to her, their head in her lap, still have not looked up at her

yet. She reads a few lines of the story, the child wiggling a lot.

Her: A mother held her new baby and very slowly rocked him back and forth, back and forth. And while she held him, she sang: I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be... 

Annoyed with the constant readjustment and fidgeting

Her: Are you done?

She stares down at the child who looks up at her. The child’s eyes go big. They tenderly reach their hand to her face, causing her to wince. The child quickly retracts their hand.

Child: Mommy...

Her: I know, I know. Mommy’s okay. See?

She smiles wide and places a hand back on her cheek.

Her: We’ve seen worst, haven't we? Now sleep.

The child timidly retracts their hand with a nod. She begins the story again. She gets through the first few lines.

Her: The baby grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew up until he was two years old. He pulled all the books off the shelves and he took his mother's watch and flushed it down the toilet. But at night time, when that two-year-old was—-

Child: Mommy...

Her: yes?

Child: I thought we were going on a trip...

Her inhales sharply taken back by the question. She stares down at the child and looks towards the kitchen. She pets the child’s hair softly.

Her: We are... We are going on a trip. I promise. Close your eyes, and when you open them we’ll be far away. You’ll be safe on our trip. No one can hurt you, okay. Mommy is taking you on a trip where no one can hurt us anymore.

There is a pause.

Child: Okay. I love you

Her: I love you too, now close your eyes silly....

The child closes their eyes. She kisses the child, and wipes some of her tears away.

Her: Mommy loves you so very much.

She begins to read again, as she reads she grows more and more tired, struggling to talk.

Her: The baby grew. He grew up and he grew up until he was two years old. He pulled all the books off the shelves, and he took his mother's watch and flushed it down the toilet. But at night time, when that two-year-old was quiet, she opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor, looked up over the side of his bed; and if he was really asleep, really asleep she picked him up and rocked him back and forth, back and forth.  While she rocked him, she sang: I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living my baby you'll be. The little boy grew. He grew up until he was nine years old. And he never wanted to come in for dinner, and he never wanted to take a bath, Sometimes his mother wanted to sell him to the zoo! But at night time, when he was asleep, really asleep the mother quietly opened the  door to his room, crawled across the floor and looked up over the side of the bed. If he was really asleep, she picked up that great nine-year-old boy and rocked him back and forth, back and forth. And while she rocked him she sang: I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living my baby you'll be.

She looks down to find her sleeping child, she speaks while she struggles to gain strength to get up. She still speaks, knowing the book by heart as she makes sure the child is asleep... she gets up and picks up the sleeping child bringing them to their room.

Sometimes the mother felt like she was in a zoo! But at nighttime, when that teenager was asleep, really asleep the mother opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor. If he was really asleep she picked up that great big boy and rocked him back and forth, back and forth.

 As she walks, she speaks, looking down at the child she knows will never grow to reach age nine.

While she rocked him she sang: I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as

I'm living my baby you'll be.

There is a moment of silence on stage. She reenters the living room, closing their door gently and leaning against it. She closes her eyes crying and walks back to her room. She is now struggling greatly; she climbs into bed and dies before even pulling the covers over her.

The phone begins to ring, then goes to voicemail.

Her Voice: Hey sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. I’ll call you back when I get a

chance.

Voice of Her Mom: Baby Girl it’s mommy. How are you, where are you? Are you okay? Can

we come get you? Oh, your f— the father takes the phone

Voice of Her Dad: Pick up the phone for us. We love you. We never blamed you. We just want

you to come home safe to us.

Voice of Her Mom: Come home to us, please. —-

Phone cuts out. Blackness.