Apartment 143 Page #5

No, not exactly. Channeling.

White:
I'm sorry.

What's that, like spiritism?

- No.

- Caitlin:
Spiritism.

Channeling.

Caitlin:

Hallelujah, we're saved.

White:

Caitlin, please.

Good.

Would it be possible to get

a higher chair, please?

White:

A higher chair?

I'm sorry.

That's all I have.

Then could you bring me the telephone

guide, if it isn't too much trouble?

White:

Caitlin, would you mind?

- Hold on.

- Okay.

- You want two or...

- No, that's-- thank you.

Thank you.

I can enter an invisible world

by raising my vibration.

Not many people know this,

but the other side is just

That's why it's so common for people

to see ghosts from the waist up.

Good.

Something may happen today,

but then again, it may not.

There's no way

of knowing ahead of time.

But from now on,

I need everybody

to please remain silent,

no matter what takes place.

If by some unlikely stroke

of good fortune,

you do see an undead materialize

before your eyes, please don't

get carried away by your emotions.

Please.

Running away from a ghost

is an unforgiveable lack of delicacy.

It's so tough for them to appear.

Helzer:

Okay.

Okay.

Is there anybody there?

Is there anybody there with us?

Is there anyone there with you?

Yes, me.

Ellen:

Oh, God. Jesus Christ!

Helzer:

Who are you?

Ellen:
Sh*t.

There are lots of us.

Helzer:

Is this Caitlin?

How do we know this isn't Caitlin?

Caitlin's voice:

There are lots of us.

Cynthia?

Is that you, Cynthia?

Shut up!

Get your hands off of her!

Mr. White, are you okay?

- Helzer:
Is this Cynthia?

- Ellen:
Doctor, what's going on?

"Is this Cynthia?"

Helzer:
Do you wanna

tell us something about the accident?

Accident?!

It wasn't an accident.

Why are you saying that? I wasn't even

with her. I wasn't even with you!

Don't you dare talk to this girl

after what you've done.

- Helzer:
What did Alan do to you?

- Caitlin:
Not to me. To the girl!

All right, to the girl.

- Caitlin:
You saw him.

- What did we see?

- You saw him !

- What did we see?

White:
I haven't done anything.

I swear to God!

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!

- Paul:
F***!

- Helzer:
Nobody move!

- Everybody stay seated.

- Paul:
Doctor.

Paul:
Oh, my God!

Paul:
Oh, God!

Paul:
Jesus!

Paul:
Ellen! Oh, f***!

- Damn!

- Ellen:
Jesus Christ!

Paul:
Watch out!

Ellen:

Doctor!

Paul:
No, no, no, no.

Paul:

Oh, God.

- So how come--

- Ellen.

Oh, God. Oh, my God! It's all right.

It's okay.

Come on, that's a good girl.

Come with me.

Come on, that's it.

You're okay.

That's it.

You're okay.

Come on, let's go to your room.

That's it.

You're all right.

You're all right.

Come on. Good girl.

Can I have a cigarette, please?

- I didn't know you smoked, Ellen.

- I do today.

Cheers. Cheers.

You know...

I'm starting to believe that

what Caitlin's saying might be true.

What's she saying, Ellen?

What's true?

We've ruled out

a haunting and possession.

Caitlin's own psychism has to be

responsible for the marks on her thighs

and the scratches

her brother's talking about.

Perhaps she's projecting

her psychic energy

to accuse her father of something,

to expose some secret.

A secret? Why doesn't she just

come out with it, nice and simple?

Wouldn't that be easier?

Why all these games?

Maybe-- I mean, I don't know,

maybe she's buried the memory

in the depths of her subconscious

out of shame and guilt.

And now-- now it's--

the secret's manifesting itself,

emerging in the form

of physical injury.

You're the psychologist, not me.

Is it possible that Alan was somehow

responsible for his wife's death?

He says she was sick,

but we don't know that.

All we know is what he's telling us,

his side of the story.

You know, maybe--

I don't know.

Maybe he couldn't stand

her anymore, you know?

Maybe Alan is like a wolf in--

Why is my daughter doing this to me?

My own daughter.

She hates me.

Your daughter thinks of herself

as a woman, Mr. White,

and she's not.

She's a little girl

that misses her mother.

She probably feels guilty

for having not been able

to avoid her death.

You can't let this get to you, Alan.

You got the children to think about.

All I do is think about my children.

That's all I do.

Tell me about your wife.

Tell me about Cynthia.

I don't-- I don't know.

I don't know how to describe Cynthia.

She's--

I guess she is

a sweet, caring woman.

She was a wonderful teacher.

She was loved by her students,

by her colleagues.

She was the perfect mother.

I can't-- I can't do this.

How do you describe a person anyway?

How do you?

You know,

sometimes I will-- I will--

lay in bed at night

and I will try to think about her

and I can't remember her face.

It doesn't make any sense at all.

I will shut my eyes as tight as I can,

and I'll dig my nails into my skin.

I try to-- I have to hurt

myself and then I'll--

and then maybe I'll feel

the need to cry--

to cry for a long time,

and her image will come back

to me, but not always.

When did she stop

taking her medication?

How do--

how do you know that?

She just stopped taking

it one day, didn't she?

She knew it was gonna change her.

She didn't do anything about it.

Why didn't you?

Did you stop loving her?

No.

No, I-- I couldn't do anything.

There wasn't anything

I could do. She wasn't--

she wasn't the kind of

person that would--

she didn't allow me

to help her in any way.

I-- I couldn't.

Yeah, I love her.

Then why were you

gonna get a divorce?

- How do you know that?

- It's in the statement you made

that night to the cops, Alan.

I don't just accept

a case as it comes along.

I do my research. Always.

What did you expect?

Now tell me about your wife.

Tell me about Cynthia, Alan.

Go ahead.

She was sick. She was very sick.

- She wasn't--

- I can't hear you, Alan.

It was really hard to be around her.

- Her temper, the illness.

- Helzer:
I can't hear you.

She used to scream at the kids--

- Helzer:
I can't hear you.

- She would scream at the kids.

- She was not a good mother.

- Speak up, for Christ's sake,

why don't you?

I can't hear a word you're saying!

- The illness changed her!

- I can't hear you!

She was a whore, okay?

She was a f***ing whore!

F***!

F***!

She was f***ing--

she was wicked.

She was--

she would spend

several days at a time in bed,

without even the will to wash.

Or she would leave the house without

so much as a word of explanation.

I had to look after the kids.

I had to give up my job.

I had to-- I-- I--

I neglected the business,

and my daughter blamed me.

She said that mom didn't want

to come home because

I didn't make her happy.

She would come home stinking!

You know, I helped her to be sick.

I would help her.

I f***ing-- I undressed her.

I put her in bed,

and I would call the school

the next day making up excuses.

I had to hide it from the kids.

You know, she lost her job.

They got rid of her.

And towards the end of it,

you know, she would--

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