Nelly Page #3

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It's really not necessary.

That's kind.

But just a bit, OK?

Come.

It'll heal fast.

Can you stay with me tonight?

Yes.

Suzanne?

Yes?

The tragedy, when people love you,

is they can stop loving you

at any moment.

Hi, Patrick.

Hi.

- I'm happy to meet you.

- Me too.

OK, you like it rough.

So do I.

Not too rough, OK?

Don't speak. Don't speak.

That's so good.

What are you doing?

Stop!

Stop!

Don't scream.

- Hello.

- Hello.

I have a delivery for you.

Sign here please.

Thank you.

- Are you alright, madame?

- Sure.

I really like your work.

I'm a big admirer.

Thanks very much.

Your first novel's still my favorite,

but I like all your books.

Thank you.

Are you working on something?

Yeah.

Can't wait to read it.

I have to find the ending.

OK.

Thank you.

Thanks.

Aren't you coming?

Who's that b*tch?

What?

Leave with that slut if you want.

What's going on?

We're waiting for you.

We're all having fun.

Don't touch me!

OK, I don't get it.

I saw you with that fat cow!

I saw you!

You're f***ing nuts.

I saw you!

I saw you, sh*t!

How much have you drunk?

It's time to end it for real.

This isn't fun anymore.

Whafll I do with her?

I don't know what to do with her.

I haven't found the ending.

Will I have to kill her?

I can't really have to kill her.

I'll have to kill them.

I'll make my death a poster

that will multiply on walls.

I'll die like you die on stage,

in a storm of emotion.

I expected that you'd still love me

or that you'd kill me.

Because you are so great,

I expected something grandiose.

When death comes,

I don'! Wan! To be there.

If you move,

you're dead.

What are you doing? I'm not finished.

Crazy b*tch!

In the end what counts is the crash,

the place of my defeat,

when chance gives way,

and the actions embodying me

finally have me on a leash,

forcing me toward my end.

I will lower my body into death,

where my soul already lies.

You have to eat, miss.

You're thin as a coffin nail.

Go on!

Mathieu...

Let's walk a bit.

Get me out of here.

Do you dislike it?

Only the insane like being in an asylum.

It's not an asylum,

it's a rest home.

I've rested enough.

I feel better.

I'm happy to hear it. Really.

I'm not like them.

I'll truly go crazy if I stay.

Get me out of here.

What are you doing?

You saved my life.

What are you doing?

You saved my life.

I missed you.

Memo.

We'll be good to each other.

Yes.

I can't live without you.

Neither can I.

OK.

Now don't freak out.

What is it?

I want us to stay together.

OK...

Will you marry me?

What?

We can get engaged,

and get married next year and have kids.

Ideally you'd be this pregnant

at the altar.

You want to marry me?

You're crazy!

I know. I don't understand.

I want us to be together.

Come on, we've dicked around enough.

Will you say yes?

Yes.

Yes?

Mathieu? It's me.

I'm happy to hear your voice.

- You got home alright?

- Yes.

I'm writing.

That's great. Are you happy?

Yes.

I'm writing as I, with strong emotions.

I'm on track, I feel ii.

I'm working fast.

That's extraordinary.

I'm so happy.

When can I read it?

I should have a first draft

in 6 months.

As soon as we're married, we'll stop. OK?

Yeah.

You have some there.

Come, come, come.

We'll be OK, right?

- Yeah.

- OK.

Should we invite some people over?

Sure.

Is that all we have?

F***, did you sneak some?

Course not.

I'm sure you had more than me.

It's almost gone.

Like when you shared our coke

with that slut.

Fred's new girlfriend.

It was a party. Everybody shares.

What are you doing?

We can order more or go out for some.

Chill!

What's your problem?

Why'd you take it all?

There are two of us, we share.

F***ing junkie!

You're the f***ing junkie.

The f***ing whore and the f***ing junkie.

Don't you ever push me again.

Christ, you're a c*nt!

Christ, you're a dick!

- Hello.

- Hi.

Am I too early?

No, I was expecting you. Come in.

Thanks.

Thanks for seeing me.

You're welcome.

We're eager to read your novel.

Can you describe it?

I can say that I write with passion.

Good.

You've never matched your early success.

How do you live with that?

What?

Maybe I'm wrong, but I read that

your latest novels sold a tenth

as many copies as the first one

in France and Qubec.

Yes, that's possible.

Are you alright? Should we postpone this?

No, that's fine.

From day one, people wanted to know

if what you write is true,

if your books are autobiographical.

People lack imagination.

That's true.

Like in that magnificent passage...

A prostitute jumps from the 20th floor

to escape a dangerous client.

Did I write that?

Yes.

Once upon a time there was a tavern.

Where we used to raise a glass or two.

Remember how we laughed away the hours.

And dreamed of all the

great things we would do.

Those were the days, my friend.

We though! They'd never end.

We'd sing and dance, forever and a day.

We'd live the life we choose.

We'd fight and never lose.

For we were young

and sure to have our way.

I haven'! Confessed for many years.

I'm no! Exactly sure what to do.

I've done many stupid things.

I'm too ashamed to tell you the details.

I have the feeling...

that everything is killing me.

Words kill me.

For a while I thought writing would save me

but writing took chunks out of me.

Writing brings you too close to death.

I invented Nelly to protect Isabelle,

but I think the opposite happened.

I did things to write about them.

I shouldn't have.

Love kills me too.

Sex kills me.

Beauty, ugliness,

success,

failure...

I feel myself dying in everything I do.

Bu! Now I'd like to move on.

I'd like to feel better.

Isabelle Foriier ended her life

on 24 September 2009 at the age of 36.

She published four novels,

one posthumously.

We sincerely thank her family,

friends and all those who loved her.

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