American Psycho Page #13

BATEMAN:

(Brushing her hand away) I know that your friends are my friends. And, uh, and i've thought about that. You can have them.

Evelyn stares at him, suspicious and bewildered, a realization dawning.

EVELYN:

You're really serious, aren't you?

BATEMAN:

Yes, I am.

EVELYN:

What about the past? Our past?

BATEMAN:

We never really shared one.

EVELYN:

You're inhuman.

BATEMAN:

No, i'm in touch with humanity. Evelyn, I'm, uh, sorry. It's just uh... (He pauses, as if searching for the right words) You're just not terribly important to me.

Evelyn begins to cry.

EVELYN:

Oh no, no, no.

BATEMAN:

I know my uh, behavior can be erratic sometimes.

EVELYN:

(Sobbing) What do you want me to do, what is it you want?

The occupants of nearby tables begin to stare. Bateman is becoming increasingly agitated and embarrassed.

BATEMAN:

(Looking uncomfortably around the room) If you really want to do something for me, you can stop making this scene right now.

EVELYN:

Oh God, I can't believe this.

BATEMAN:

I'm leaving. I've assessed the situation and uh, I'm going.

Evelyn makes an effort to compose herself. She blots the tears so they will not affect her make-up.

EVELYN:

(Surprisingly calm) Where are you going?

BATEMAN:

I'm just leaving.

EVELYN:

But where?

BATEMAN:

I have to return some videotapes.

He rushes out of the room.

EXT. TRIBECA STREET - EVENING

Bateman wanders into misty Tribeca streets, sees a stray cat.

BATEMAN:

Here kitty, kitty.

The small mangy cat rubs against him. He picks it up and walks toward an ATM, holding the cat. He puts his card in the machine. The screen reads: FEED ME A STRAY CAT. Bateman begins to attempt to shove the kitten into the deposit slot with some difficulty. The kitten squeals. He takes a gun from out of his pocket and points it at the kitten. He doesn't notice the woman waiting behind him.

WOMAN:

Oh my God! What are you doing? Stop that!

Bateman wheels around and shoots her. She falls screaming to the floor.

Responding to the gunshot, A POLICE CAR SIREN WAILS in the distance. Bateman breaks into a run. The police car screeches after him.

Bateman ducks down another street.

EXT. STREET - NIGHT

As he reaches the street, he finds A PHALANX OF POLICE CARS approaching.

COP CAR:

DROP THE WEAPON. DROP IT NOW. GET ON THE GROUND! PUT--

The cops leap out. Bateman shoots at them. The police return fire.

Bateman ducks down behind a parked car and continues shooting wildly. A bullet hits the gas tank of one of the police cars. It catches fire and explodes. The flames light up the scene, illuminating the bodies of policemen both living and dead.

NEW ANGLE:
Bateman flees from the scene. The camera follows him as he runs along a row of Porsches, trying to open each one, setting off a cacophony of CAR ALARMS. THE SOUND OF POLICE SIRENS draws near.

NEW ANGLE:
He runs, panting, until he ends up in front of a tail, brilliantly lit office building. As he approaches, the lights in the building are going off floor by floor.

INT. OFFICE BUILDING - NIGHT

He rushes into the lobby, running for the elevator.

NIGHT WATCHMAN:

Burning the midnight oil, Mr. Smith? Hey now don't forgot to sign in.

Bateman wheels around and shoots him. He runs toward the revolving doors. As he swings around in the doors, he notices a JANITOR who has witnessed the shooting. He revolves back into the lobby and shoots the janitor.

NEW ANGLE:

He runs out of the building and across the street to an identical office building, the one that houses Pierce & Pierce.

INT. PIERCE & PIERCE LOBBY - NIGHT

Bateman nods at the Pierce & Pierce NIGHT WATCHMAN and signs in.

BATEMAN:

(out of breath) Hi.

He breathes a sigh of relief as the elevator doors close behind him.

INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - NIGHT

Bateman stands looking out through the floor-length windows at a panoramic night view of the city and the river.

Below him he sees a SWAT TEAM swarming over the roof of the opposite building. There are ambulances standing by, flares everywhere, distant sirens.

Suddenly, THE SOUND OF A HELICOPTER draws near. Frightened, he drops to the floor behind his desk.

Helicopter searchlights scan the building, illuminating Bateman's office for a few moments with a blaze of light.

He is crouched in one corner, half-sobbing, talking into the phone, as the searchlight keeps circling.

BATEMAN:

Harold, it's Bateman. Patrick Bateman. You're my lawyer so I think you should know-I've killed a lot of people. Some escort girls, in an apartment uptown, uh, some homeless people, maybe five or ten, um, an NYU girl I met in Central Park. I left her in a parking lot, behind some doughnut shop. I killed Bethany, my old girlfriend, with a nail gun. Um, and some man--some old f*ggot with a dog. Last week I uh, killed another girl with a chainsaw--(sobbing) I had to, she almost got away. And uh, there was someone else there, I cannot remember maybe a model, but she's dead too. And uh, Paul Allen. I killed Paul Allen with an ax, in the face. His body is dissolving in a bathtub in Hell's Kitchen. I don't want to leave anything out here...I guess I've killed 20 people, maybe 40. Uh...I have tapes of a lot of it. Uh, some of the girls have seen the tapes, I even um...I ate some of their brains and I tried to cook a little. Tonight I uh, (laughs maniacally) I just had to kill a lot of people and um, I'm not sure I'm going to get away with it this time--I guess i'll uh--I mean...I guess...I'm a pretty, uh...I mean, I guess i'm a pretty sick guy. So--if you get back tomorrow, I may show up at Harry's Bar, so, you know, keep your eyes open.

Bateman hangs up the phone. The helicopter searchlight circles back, briefly illuminating the room.

INT. PATRICK'S APARTMENT - DAY

He is going through the steps of his routine as he showers and picks out his suit for the day.

INT. PAUL ALLEN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY

Bateman walks down the hallway to Paul Allen's apartment. He has a surgical mask in one hand. Allen's door is open. The apartment is freshly painted and has been immaculately redecorated in English country-house style: overstuffed sofas, lots of chintz. There are flowers everywhere, and a YOUNG YUPPIE COUPLE stands admiring the place talking to the realtor, MRS. WOLFE. Bateman wanders down the hallway, looking for familiar signs. He stops at the closet where we last saw two dead girls hanging. He opens the door and the light switches on, but it is empty. Mrs. Wolfe approaches, smiling.

MRS. WOLFE:

Are you my two o'clock?

BATEMAN:

No.

Mrs. Wolfe eyes him strangely, then looks down at the surgical mash clutched in his hand. Her expression changes.

MRS. WOLFE:

Can I help you?

BATEMAN:

I'm looking for...Paul Allen's place.

She stares at him impassively.

BATEMAN:

Doesn't he live here?

MRS. WOLFE:

No, he doesn't.

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