We’re inside a warm and earthy modern home with wood floors and leather interior decor. The chirping of birds outside are muffled by the drawn forest green curtains, desperate to block out the sunlight of the world.

It’s very quiet here. You can almost hear the house creak.

CHASE (30’s, worn, bearded) sits alone in his home on his couch, cocooned in a blanket with pillows scattered all around him. His eyes flutter open and he squints at the light peering through the curtains. One of them are flapping a little making a flashing effect on his eye.

He grunts as he sits up, rubbing his eyes. He huffs out a big, tired sigh. Leans forward and grabs a takeout cup of coke that’s made a sweaty ring on the table. Slurps it through the straw until it comes up empty. Chucks it back on the table carelessly.

He sits with his head in his hands and rubs his face. He looks back. Back at a closed door. Cranes his head to look at it, hoping that he’ll hear it creek open. But no. It won’t. It won’t ever again.

He hauls himself to his feet with a grunt and stumbles off to the bathroom in underwear and a grey undershirt.

We hear him lift the lid to the toilet and pee as we push onto a focus shot of the closed door. It becomes more and more ominous. Chase comes out of the bathroom and walks to the door, stands in front of it.

He hesitantly he rests his hand on the doorknob and holds his breath. Twists.

The door opens slowly to a couple’s room, assumedly the main bedroom of the house. There’s clothes on the floor, a valet tray with wallet and keys inside it, and women’s shoes flung off in a corner.

Somehow the whole room has the grey and blue light of a mausoleum, and Chase enters it as such. He runs his hands across the mattress, messy, and moves to the corner of the bed where he sits and looks at the wall.

On the wall, sitting above a dresser with a fan - still- and a speaker - silent-. is a picture of Chase and a woman, they’re embracing and smiling as they sit on a red blanket under a large oak tree. Chase stares at it.

Slowly, quietly, a small electronic sounding shrill whine sounds. The kind you’d hear if you had some hearing damage.

We zoom into the picture, providing a clearer view of the couple. He’s happy. She’s happy. You can almost hear them laughing.

The whine is louder. Stronger still. Chase stands and moves toward the picture and the tinnitus sound gets even stronger. Overwhelming him. His hands reach for the picture but stop short, shaking. The sound crescendos.

The whining stops suddenly as Chase finishes closing the door to the bedroom, turning around and closing his eyes. He shakes his head.

He shuffles back over to the couch, back to his grief nest. The house is unbearably quiet. The curtain flaps again and lets in a leak of light as the air in the room moves it around.

He pulls the red blanket over himself and shuts his eyes tightly.

MATCH CUT:

Nighttime. The whine is loud, growing louder and in this room now too. Chase is asleep in the exact same position we left him in. A flashing TV screen alights on his face as he lays motionless.

eeEEEEEEE

Chase startles awake and sits upright. He gasps. Breath Ragged. It’s a nightmare, but he’s awake.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to dislodge something rattling around in his mind. A gesture like trying to get water out of your ears after a long swim.

It’s the sound. He can’t stop the sound.

He turns the TV off with the remote control laying next to him and he’s plunged into darkness.

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEE

Still the sound.

He stands up, brushing crumbs off himself. Shuffles over to the TV and leans behind it and unplugs it.

The sound continues.

He looks around the room and tries to figure out what could be making that sound. Something electronic surely? Or is it coming from?

Their room?

He wearily turns and gazes at their door, dark as death. He shuffles over to it and examines it closely. Checks the seams, the hinge, finding nothing unusual..

He lays down and puts his ear to the floor, listening intently. He can hear his own breathing and the whining sound, but can’t figure out where it’s coming from.

We see under the door to their room at his POV. A dark shadow moves in the gloom, or does it?

He stands up and puts his hand on the doorknob again. Pulls it.

It’s as untouched as it was before. As he enters he grips the bedposts with white knuckles. As he moves towards the picture he can feel the sound in his bones.

It’s louder and louder.

He comes closer.

Much LOUDER now. Shrill. Shrieking.

The picture there seems to be laughing and smiling more than before somehow. He draws his hand to it and the PITCH of the whine gets HIGHER.

Chase is stunned by this realization. He tests it a few times and yep, it’s for sure changing. Bizarre.

He puts his hand on the picture he pulls it aside to see a large electrical burn scar on the wall, blackened soot spreading out as he looks at it.

He stumbles back with the picture and leans it on their dresser.

The light of a burning electrical wire illuminates the wall in front of him.

Shit.

He walks purposefully out to the living room.

He hurriedly picks up a flashlight on his coffee table and walks out the front door, leaving it open.

Chase steps up to a circuit breaker panel and shuts off the electrical connection to the house with a metallic thunk. The wind outside whips up, a storm is brewing.

He sighs a deep sigh of relief. The whining sound is gone now.

He takes a few deep breaths and heads back inside.

He’s back in their bedroom now with just his flashlight, its yellow beam pierces the cold space, illuminating in unnatural glow the stillness within.

The wall has stopped smoldering, much to his relief. He shuts off his flashlight and picks up the picture frame, hanging it back on the wall.

Until something catches his eye on it. What? He illuminates it with his flashlight and stares at the picture.

It’s the same picture as before, but now a storm is growing in the distance, darkening the picnic of the two in the threat of rain.

He inches closer to the picture, the beam fixing on it. He stares at it.

A small, almost imperceptable whine begins again.

eeeeeeeeee

He steps toward the picture a little more and it increases.

The whine keeps getting louder, wilder, it’s a chord of sound now inside his mind.

Chase tries to shake it off, closing his eyes and putting his hands over his ears and groaning.

No.. Noooo No no no.

The door closes to the room with Chase outside it again. He’s sweating. Panting in exhaustion and panic.

Noo no no no.

He paces over to the couch and coffee table and whips open his headphone case and plugs his ears. He fumbles his phone as he turns on some Beethoven.

The sound of the whining lessens as the music drowns it all out. He sits back on the couch and pulls the blanket up and over himself.

He’s actively trying to do breathing exercises.

He reaches down for a pill bottle on the table and shakes one out. Downs it.

MATCH CUT

A thunderous CLAP jolts Chase awake with eyes wide. Rain patters on the roof of the house. The screen outside the front door rattles shut and slams over and over.

The SOUND of the WHINE is back and louder than ever.

It’s more than just a whine now, it sounds like a heartbeat monitor.

EEEEEP! EEEEEP! EEEP!

He’s in a cold sweat. Panting. Ravaged by this sound that just won’t leave him alone.

The door to the room CREAKS open on its own. We’re inside, looking out at Chase, who turns and sees this. He’s sweating, shaking, as he stands to look at the door.

He walks towards the door and we follow him in, again to the picture on the wall, the heartbeat whining sound growing louder and louder.

The picture has changed again. The two of them are still in the picture but now all their hair is standing on end, as if charged by electricity. The stormy weather now dark and heavily oppressive.

Chase puts his hand out to it, called by the painting. He tentatively touches it and it FALLS to the floor with a THUNDEROUS CLAP.

The sound has stopped.

He looks at it again and it’s the same as it was at the very beginning. Happy couple in a picnic with sunny weather.

He starts to cry. Picks the picture up and puts it back on the wall.

He cries and cries. Lays in fetal position on their bed and just sobs.

Between shaky inhales he can start to hear a small electronic whine, but wait. What’s that?

It’s a heavily modulated and electronic voice. A woman’s voice.

Chase.

Hannah? Hannah is that you?

Her voice sounds muffled, far off. Compressed.

Chase? I can’t see. Where am I?

Baby? Where are you?

I-- I’m here. I think I’m inside here.

The sound of the rain and wind outside increases. Morphs and bonds with the electrical whine. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance as the lights flicker.

Chase gets up and walks to the dresser and the picture which is on the wall.

Baby, keep talking. Are you here?

I’m inside here Chase. I-- I need help!

In one swipe he throws everything off the top of the dresser onto the floor. He moves to the side of the dresser and pushes it over, revealing the wall.

There’s a large red thunder scar on the wall!

What? What the fuck?

I’m trapped in here. Trapped.

No. Noooo No...

He gingerly touches the wall and falls to his knees. Sobbing.

Chase. What’s going on?

You’re... You’re...

He lets out an agonized yelp, reels back and SMASHES his fist through the red scar. Pulls the drywall back.

Baby, what’s going on? I’m scared. I’m SCARED.

He screams again in anguish and rips another CHUNK off the wall. Rips chunk after chunk back.

He gasps, drawing in ragged breath as he rips and RIPS open the wall.

Another CLAP of THUNDER and FLASH of LIGHTING.

BEHIND the WALL is HUMAN FLESH.

HUMAN.

FLESH.

A large, peach tone flesh complete with small hairs, moles, everything. It’s as real as flesh can be.

Chase sobs into his bloodied, drywall covered hands.

Hannah. Hannah I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.

He puts his tear soaked cheek on the flesh wall and caresses it.

Chase. It’s okay. I’m here.

There’s a similar red scar on the wall of skin. From a lightning strike.

Chase pulls the bedding off the couch and grabs a few pillows.

The thunder and wind howls outside as Chase makes his grief nest of pillows, blankets, and sofa cushions on the floor next to the wall of skin, which moves as if breath is flowing through it.

Chase curls up next to the skin wall, hand on it, and just cries.

MATCH CUT TO

= Wakes up. It’s morning time. The skin now isn’t just skin. It’s a vulva. It’s warm and moves like breath. He looks at it and then climbs in with his blanked. It’s morning outside, and we hear birds and insects and the remains of the rainstorm dripping.

Chase, in his grief nest on the floor, wakes up, rolls over, and looks at the hole in the wall he’s created.

It’s still made of HUMAN FLESH.

But now the skin is in the shape of a woman’s vulva.

He looks at it with awe.

We’re INSIDE the skin hole in the wall. Chase has crawled inside it and setup his blankets, pillows, etc inside here. There’ pictures and books inside the fleshy and warm cavern.

The door to the entrance is the picture of the two of them, having a picnic, on a sunny day, under a tree.

The whining sound increases. Loud. LOUDER. LOUDER.

POV CHASE

We focus on the picture frame. Now it’s different again. The dark storm is in full force, and it’s only Hannah’s body and the tree, struck in two by lightning.

WHITE FLASH

THUNDER CRASH

BLACKOUT