Post by Torture on Apr 13, 2006 16:15:57 GMT -5
- Torture's face is seen. Eyes are red over. We zoom out a bit. It's now known he's sitting at a kitchen table. We know this kitchen. Torture is at home. He's sitting on the phone. He's listening to someone. The Tort is rolling his eyes as if what he's hearing isn't what he likes.
Torture: Stop talking. No. Two months and still nothing done? No one locked up?
- Torture slams his hand on the table.
Torture: You're meaning to tell me that you guys lock up seventeen year olds for looking black. Put away young kids that are ten minutes out past curfew, but you can't FIND evidence for three murders.. NO YOU SHUT UP! MY FAMILY.. MY GOD DAMN WIFE AND SON WE'RE KILLED IN MY OWN GOD DAMN HOUSE AND YOU CAN'T FIND ANY GOD DAMN EVIDENCE.. MY FAMILY IS GONE! NOT YOURS! MINE! MY FUCKIN' FAMILY!
- Torture throws the phone to the wall. Tears come down his eyes. Torture, whose now turning red, grabs the wooden chair and smashes it on the table. With the wooden leg in his hand and breaks it over the counter and hit's his knees.
Torture: Natasha? Benjamin? Yes! I hear you! I hear you! Yes i'm in the kitchen!
- On his hands and knees. Torture crawls over to the wall and sits up against it. He bangs the back of his head up against the wall.
Torture: I hear you.. I ... i'm talking to .. myself..
- Torture puts his head down as he sits on the kitchen floor. You can hear him wiping away his tears with his hands as he tries to keep his snot in his nose. He looks back up.
Torture: Kurtis Victory.. You better hope to god there was more than you that did this.. you are one dead mother fu
- Scene fades out.
Torture: Stop talking. No. Two months and still nothing done? No one locked up?
- Torture slams his hand on the table.
Torture: You're meaning to tell me that you guys lock up seventeen year olds for looking black. Put away young kids that are ten minutes out past curfew, but you can't FIND evidence for three murders.. NO YOU SHUT UP! MY FAMILY.. MY GOD DAMN WIFE AND SON WE'RE KILLED IN MY OWN GOD DAMN HOUSE AND YOU CAN'T FIND ANY GOD DAMN EVIDENCE.. MY FAMILY IS GONE! NOT YOURS! MINE! MY FUCKIN' FAMILY!
- Torture throws the phone to the wall. Tears come down his eyes. Torture, whose now turning red, grabs the wooden chair and smashes it on the table. With the wooden leg in his hand and breaks it over the counter and hit's his knees.
Torture: Natasha? Benjamin? Yes! I hear you! I hear you! Yes i'm in the kitchen!
- On his hands and knees. Torture crawls over to the wall and sits up against it. He bangs the back of his head up against the wall.
Torture: I hear you.. I ... i'm talking to .. myself..
- Torture puts his head down as he sits on the kitchen floor. You can hear him wiping away his tears with his hands as he tries to keep his snot in his nose. He looks back up.
Torture: Kurtis Victory.. You better hope to god there was more than you that did this.. you are one dead mother fu
- Scene fades out.
