The Sixth Sense Page #17

COLE:

I wish I were somewhere else.

MALCOLM:

(soft)

Where will you go, where no one has

died?

Cole stares at the map and then turns to Malcolm.

COLE:

Don't go home, okay?

MALCOLM:

I definitely won't.

Cole turns and stares quietly at the door. He waits a long time

before reaching for the doorknob.

CUT TO:

INT. GIRL'S BEDROOM - AFTERNOON

Cole closes the door behind him. He turns and gazes at the

girl's bedroom. There's a hospital bed near the window. The

walls are covered with get-well cards and drawings from family,

friends, and school children.

Her shelves are filled with puppets. All shapes and sizes of

puppets. Next to the shelf is a puppet stage and a camcorder on

a mini tripod sitting next to it.

Cole walks to the shelf and picks up a FINGER PUPPET DANCER. He

places it in his pocket.

On the girl's desk, is a large collection of video cassettes.

The labels read, "Puppet Show Christmas 96," "Puppet Show

Birthday party," "Puppet Show class trip"...

Cole reads the labels carefully before moving towards the

closets. He passes the bed.

AN EMACIATED HAND REACHES OUT FROM BENEATH THE BED AND GRABS

COLE'S ANKLE.

Cole jerks back startled. He watches as the girl's hand slips

back under the bed. Cole stays very still. Waits. Nothing

happens.

He slowly bends down. His hands touch the floor. He tilts his

head and looks under the bed.

The emaciated little girl who came to his tent lays curled on the

floor. Her bulging eyes glare at Cole. She moves suddenly.

Thrusts a jewelry box forward. It slides across the wooden floor

and stops just before Cole. Cole and the sickly girl stare at

each other. Neither of them say a word.

CUT TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON

The room is thick with mourners. Most are gathered around the

GIRL'S MOTHER, a young woman in her late twenties. As she moves

through the room to the kitchen, she receives the many cards,

hugs, and flowers that are offered as condolence. Mrs. Collins

leaves the living room.

Malcolm watches breathlessly from the doorway as Cole moves

through the many adults across the room.

The girl's father, MR. COLLINS, a thin man in his late twenties,

is seated on the reading chair next to a T.V. His face is

granite. No one in the room dares to talk to him. He stares

statue-like at an abstract point in the room.

COLE:

Mister?

The man doesn't react. Some of the guests look oddly at the

little boy standing before the man.

COLE:

Excuse me, Mister.

Beat. The man slowly turns and looks down at the boy standing

next to him. Cole is very shaky.

Malcolm watches everything anxiously.

Cole stares at Mr. Collins.

COLE:

Are you Kyra's daddy?

The man's face begins to crumble. Beat. He nods, "yes" softly.

Cole holds out the jewelry box. It trembles with his hands.

The father just stares at it. Beat.

COLE:

It's for you...

(beat)

She wanted to tell you something.

The father becomes very still. His eyes fill with a storm of

confusion and pain. After the longest time, the father reaches

and gently takes the box out of Cole's small hands.

Cole begins to back away...

The father gazes at Cole as he melts into the crowd. Cole

reaches Malcolm and the two then slip out of the house.

The father looks down in a daze. He goes to open the jewelry

box. His movements are slow and strained. He lifts the latch

and open the box.

Mr. Collins stares at an unlabeled video cassette.

CUT TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON

People in the room start to turn as the T.V. comes on. Mr.

Collins is seated now.

THE STATIC SNOW ON THE SCREEN IS QUICKLY REPLACED BY AN IMAGE.

TWO PUPPETS DANCE ON STAGE. WE HEAR KYRA'S VOICE SING FOR THE

PUPPETS AS THEY DANCE AROUND.

Her father's face forms the most heartbreaking of smiles as he

watches the performance.

The entire room has stopped what they were doing.

T.V. SCREEN

WE HEAR FOOTSTEPS COMING UP THE STAIRS. The puppets go limp.

The entire stage gets lifted up. We see it carried away by Kyra.

We can view the whole bedroom now. The camera is seated on her

desk in the corner.

Kyra climbs in bed and pretends to be sleeping when the door

opens. It's Mrs. Collins. She carries in a tray of soup and a

sandwich.

LIVING ROOM:

The crowd watches in riveted silence. The father never takes his

eyes off of the screen.

The image of the mother prepares the meal. She uncovers the

fruit and the soup. Places a straw into the drink.

And then it happens.

The image of the mother walks to a closet. Opens it. An

assortment of household cleaners and sponges are kept inside.

She pulls out a bottle of floor cleaner. Reads the label for the

ingredients. Walks back to the food tray, where she unscrews the

cap on the floor cleaner. The mother pours some into the cap.

Checks it.

MRS. COLLINS

(video tape)

That's too much.

The mother pours some into the bottle. The remainder goes into

the child's soup. She replaces the cap and puts the bottle back

in the closet.

The image of the mother turns to the bed carrying the tray. She

places the food on a metallic rolling table and swings it over

the bed.

MRS. COLLINS

(video tape)

Kyra, time for lunch.

Kyra pretends to wake from a deep sleep.

KYRA:

(video tape)

I'm feeling much better now.

The image of the mother smiles.

MRS. COLLINGS

(video tape)

I'm glad, honey.

(beat)

Time for your food.

KYRA:

(video tape)

Can I go outside, if I eat this?

MRS. COLLINS

(video tape)

We'll see. You know how you get

sick in the afternoon.

Kyra picks up the spoon and takes a sip. Her face crinkles at

the taste. She looks up at her mother.

MRS. COLLINS

(video tape)

Don't say it tastes funny. You

know I don't like to hear that.

Kyra slowly brings the spoon to her mouth and swallows another

spoonful.

The father SHUTS OFF THE TELEVISION with his trembling hands. He

presses his hands to his eyes like they're burning.

The ROOM IS UTTERLY SILENT.

CUT TO:

INT. DINING ROOM - AFTERNOON

Mrs. Collins is seated at the dining room surrounded by friends

and family. She fixes one of the many bouquets of flowers on the

table. It takes her a beat before she feels the stare.

She looks up.

Standing in the doorway to the dining room is Mr. Collins. A

group of ashen faced guests stand in the distance behind him.

Husband and wife's eyes meet. Mrs. Collins smiles softly.

Mr. Collins' eyes tremble with tears.

MR. COLLINS

(soft)

You were keeping her sick...

The whole world stops.

The mother's face registers confusion at first. Then slow

realization. Her eyes glace at the many faces around her.

She looks back at her husband. His glare is painful. Rage

filling every cell of his body. Tears falling faster down his

cheeks.

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