Believer Scrap 7

“I don’t… I don’t want to go back,” she says, closing her eyes, trying to block out the world around her. “I like it here, I’m… I’m fine here.”

“You’re not ‘fine’ here, Cecile,” Cecil tells her, standing over her and casting her body in his ominous shadow. “You’re a glorified secretary. Maybe not even that. You make what, thirty-five grand a year?”

“Thirty-eight!” she suddenly shouts from out of nowhere, balling her fists. “I got a raise; I make thirty-eight grand a year!”

Cecile nods skeptically as he crosses his arms. “Uh huh. And you know what I’m going to say next, so I’m not even going to say it.”

“I can live like this, Cecil!” she tells him forcefully, barely realizing that to any outside observer, they’d think she was just shouting to make it easier to convince herself of that truth. “I make rent, I pay my loans, I can eat, I can fill up my car. Nine hours at work, seven sleeping, eight all to myself. To do whatever I want to do, and I don’t need to have a bunch of a hundred dollars to do it if I don’t want to. I’m happy like this. It’s simple. It’s a simple life; you can’t just buy a simple life.”

“You’re not happy, you lazy whore,” a rather different voice suddenly tells her; just as fake as Cecil, and yet, just as real. “You’re suffocating. Your dreams are suffocating. You’re pressed against a cheap drywall ceiling and breathing in that acrid dust, but as long as you don’t develop lung cancer, you’re going to say you’re still alive? Give me a damn break, girl.”

{One day, a long way from here, this will all follow a linear progression, and this will all make sense.  Until then, I’m going going to keep posting unedited test footage from the set of the movie.}


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