The Key to the Quiet House

SCENE 7: THE BOX (Basement) (Sam is furious, ripping into a box marked “XMAS DECOR.” She’s not careful. She’s hunting. The metal box clatters out. She jumps back. Stares at it. It’s out of place. Too new, not dusty enough. She kneels. Her breathing is loud in the dank basement. She fumbles with the latch. It opens.) SAM: (Sharp intake of breath) Oh, God. (Her hand hovers over the contents. She picks up the photo first. It’s of her, through her kitchen window, taken from the backyard. She’s laughing on the phone. She doesn’t remember laughing.) SAM: (Whispering, trembling) When…? (She picks up the earring—a simple silver stud. She touches her own earlobe, bare. She had looked for this. Then she sees the key. She picks it up. It’s cold. The recognition is instant and visceral.) SAM: (To herself, a horrified realization) The rock. The stupid fake rock. (She remembers buying it, a “security” measure. She put the spare key under it the day they moved in. She never told Jack. She’d forgotten it herself until this moment. She closes her fist around the key. The metal bites into her palm. This is proof. Solid, terrifying proof. Her fear crystallizes into cold rage.) SAM: (Louder, to the empty house) You were in here. You are in here. (At that exact moment, from upstairs: a distinct, metallic CLICK-CLUNK of the front door deadbolt turning.) (All rage drains from her face, replaced by pure, primal fear. She looks up at the basement stairs. A floorboard CREAKS directly above her head. Someone is standing in the hallway. Right at the top of the stairs.) (Her dialogue ends. Now there is only the sound of her stifled breath, and the slow, rhythmic SQUEAK of the lightbulb chain beginning to sway above her.)