In The End: Unfilmed Webisodes

EPISODE 1:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / MASTER BEDROOM – NIGHT

Open on a set of tools that have been spread out on a black canvas mat on top of a very neat and tidy king-size bed: A PAIR OF PLYERS, SEVERAL SCREWDRIVERS OF DIFFERENT SIZES, AND A PRY BAR. To the left is a SMALL METAL FLASHLIGHT.

The pale hand of a woman enters the frame. CLAIRE BISSEL (29-year-old white female) rolls up the canvas mat with the tools inside. She picks up the flashlight and tests it, turning it ON and then OFF again. Satisfied with its condition, sheslips it into one of her jean pockets and turns away from the bed.

Off to the side of the bed is a pair of UNWASHED MEN’S SLACKS. On top of the SLACKS is a WORN, BROWN LEATHER WALLET.

CLAIRE picks up the WALLET and slips it into her other jeans pocket. She hesitates with her back to the camera.

CLAIRE
(Softly, just above a
whisper)
I hope you’re ready for this.

She turns OFF the lamp on the dresser next to the bedroom door, opens the door, and shuts it behind her as she disappears into the hall. The camera lingers behind, stopping to rest on a WALL PORTRAIT of CLAIRE and her husband GORD BISSEL on their wedding day.

CUT TO:

EXT. DOWNTOWN BISTRO VIRANDA (FLASHBACK) – DAY

Close up on BLACK AND WHITE PHOTOGRAPHS of a MAN and a WOMAN together. As the photographs are quickly flipped between, the shots illustrate a progression:

-The couple holding hands.

-The couple hugging and necking one another

-More explicit shots of the man caressing the woman

-The two of them making out in a hotel lobby

-A final shot of the man and woman disappearing into the penthouse suite of an obviously expensive hotel together.

The man in the photographs is GORD. The woman is UNKNOWN.

DAVE (O.S.)
It’s a sad line of work t’ be in,
that’s for sure. Having to deliver
terrible, awful information to pretty
little things like yourself.

CLAIRE stares at the final photograph before tossing the stack on to the table in front of her. She is sitting across from DAVE GIBSON, whose weathered face looks almost ghostlike in the sun, as if he has been locked indoors for too many years.

DAVE watches CLAIRE for any sign that she is about to talk. She remains stoic after viewing the photographs.

DAVE (CONT’D)
But that’s jus’ the way the world
works, innit? You get what you pay
for–in your case, that would be a
little bit o’ truth.
(Beat)
You like a moment alone, Mrs. Bissel?

CLAIRE
(Dismissively)
I don’t know what good that would do
me. Just like these.

She picks up the STACK OF PHOTOGRAPHS and TOSSES them onto the table. They fan out in front of DAVE.

CLAIRE (CONT’D)
What am I supposed to do with all of
this?

DAVE glances at the top image, of GORD and the UNKNOWN WOMAN disappearing into the hotel suite.

DAVE
Word from my associate was, they
were in there until just before dawn.
He left first, already dressed for
the day, and she followed an hour
and a half later with her panties
dangling out the end of a rather
hastily packed overnight bag. Not
the actions of two people simply
embroiled in an all-night business
meeting. Think we’re pretty clear
on that, wouldn’t you say, honeybunches?

CLAIRE
You can tell your associate, Mr.
Gibson, that this stack of… of…
These are worthless to me. None of
it will hold up against the pre-nup,
not without, at the very least, a
cocktail cockstain.

DAVE
(sarcastically)
You’d prefer he got into bed with
them?

CLAIRE
(Her eyes narrow with
determination)
If it gets me what I need…

DAVE
(Leans forward,
narrowing his gaze
to challenge her)
We’ve held up our end of the contract,
Mrs. Bissel, whether you’re happy
with the results or not.
(stands up to leave)
Your bill is in the mail.

DAVE walks past CLAIRE as she remains seated, continuing to stare at the top picture of GORD and the UNKNOWN WOMAN disappearing into the hotel suite. The look in CLAIRE’s eyes becomes one of hurt and fierce determination.

CUT TO:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / UPSTAIRS HALLWAY – NIGHT

CLAIRE holds the CANVAS ROLL of TOOLS tucked under one arm as she walks down the dark, quiet hallway. She stops at the top of the stairs leading down to the foyer and looks out the window to her left. From her position, she can see the driveway of their home–it’s empty. She pauses, staring at the car-less driveway before heading downstairs.

CUT TO:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / DOWNSTAIRS FOYER – CONTINUOUS

CLAIRE descends into the foyer and continues into the downstairs hallway, stopping part-way and turning to face a closed door.

She reaches out and tries the handle, knowing that it will be locked before even turning the knob. Still, she gives it one attempted turn, finds it locked, and then lets go.

She kneels down and UNROLLS the CANVAS. She takes one of the SCREWDRIVERS, stands up, and begins unscrewing the faceplate around the doorknob. Once both screws have been removed, she pulls off the faceplate and exposes the door’s inner workings. Holding the screwdriver like a knife, she uses her free hand to hammer the tip into the other end of the doorknob, knocking it out of place and sending it CLATTERING to the floor. She reaches into the hole, unlocks the door, and pushes it open.

CUT TO:

P.O.V. EXT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / DOWNSTAIRS HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS

From a shaky-cam P.O.V. shot, CLAIRE can be seen entering the OFFICE through the KITCHEN WINDOW at the end of the HALL.

LOW, STEADY BREATHING is heard.

CUT TO:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / DOWNSTAIRS OFFICE – CONTINUOUS

CLAIRE stands in the office doorway and quickly surveys the room. Bookshelves filled with legal, business and reference material adorn the walls to her right and left; GORD is clearly a high-profile business attorney. In the center of the room sits a large oak desk. Behind the desk, inset into the wall, is a large window that looks out onto the driveway, the blinds pulled shut.

CUT TO:

EXT. DOWNTOWN BISTRO VIRANDA (FLASHBACK) – DAY

CLAIRE, still seated in the same spot as before, turns her head slightly, motioning to the departing DAVE.

CLAIRE
Wait.

DAVE stops and turns around. He hesitates, then slowly walks back to CLAIRE with an almost imperceptible SMILE on his face that he hides before she sees him again.

CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Maybe there’s more that can be done.

DAVE sits down across from CLAIRE again, casually crossing one leg over the other as he settles into the seat.

DAVE
What didja have in mind?

CLAIRE places her right hand on top of the photographs, contemplating the next step.

CLAIRE
I think I know how to dig our way
out of this mess.

DAVE
Our way?
(Chuckles)
Maybe I’m not in on the joke, but we
did what you hired us to do. Mission
fucking accomplished. Am I missing
something?

CLAIRE
My mess then.

DAVE
(Beat)
You thinking of another job?

CLAIRE nods.

CLAIRE
Just one more night’s work.

She pauses as she stares down at the final photograph again, of GORD and the UNKNOWN WOMAN disappearing into the hotel room.

DAVE
Risk?

CLAIRE
Penthouse-high.

DAVE
One week’s pay.

CLAIRE
(Taken aback)
Excuse me?

DAVE
One week’s pay for one night’s work.
If the threat’s as high as you say,
I’m not putting my man in the line
of fire without it being worth our
while.

CUT TO:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / DOWNSTAIRS OFFICE – NIGHT

CLAIRE walks around the side of the desk and kneels down in front of the left-hand drawers. She inserts the pry bar and wedges the drawer open, splintering the wood around the lock in the process.

Inside the drawer she finds a small stack of CREDIT CARD STATEMENTS. She has never seen them before.

Wearing a mix of surprise and satisfaction on her face, CLAIRE pulls out the WORN BROWN LEATHER WALLET and places it on top of the oak desk. She then pulls out a CREDIT CARD from inside the WALLET and compares the numbers to the numbers on the statements. They match.

CUT TO:

EXT. DOWNTOWN BISTRO VIRANDA (FLASHBACK) – DAY

CLAIRE pulls the PHOTOGRAPHS across the table. She places them in a file folder and stands up from the table, placing a very expensive pair of sunglasses over her eyes.

CLAIRE
I never said he’d be the one at risk.

CUT TO:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / DOWNSTAIRS OFFICE – NIGHT

The office is suddenly BATHED IN LIGHT. CLAIRE ducks out of sight of the window and watches as the light from a pair of CAR HEADLIGHTS sweeps the room. She can hear the ENGINE IDLING, then TURNING OFF. Remaining in her position, crouched near the floor, she waits.

The car door SLAMS and FOOTSTEPS are heard outside.

CLAIRE
Shit.

END EPISODE 1

EPISODE 2:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / DOWNSTAIRS OFFICE – NIGHT

CLAIRE, still crouching near the floor between the window and the desk, pulls out her MOBILE PHONE and quickly dials a number. She puts it up to her ear and waits for the answer.

CLAIRE
(Whispering frantically)
He’s early.
(Beat)
No, I need a distraction. No, not
in a minute. Now. I need it now.

CUT TO:

EXT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / DRIVEWAY – CONTINUOUS

GORD BISSEL straightens his tie as he walks, his gait powerful and confident. He stops as his MOBILE PHONE begins to VIBRATE. He pulls it out of his jacket pocket and answers.

GORD
Hello?

DAVE (O.S.)
Mr. Bissel?

GORD
Speaking. Who’s this?

DAVE
It’s Ted–from Contracts.

GORD
Ted? There’s no Ted in Contracts.

DAVE
Did I say Ted? I meant…
(Beat)
Stan.

CUT TO:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / DOWNSTAIRS OFFICE – CONTINUOUS

CLAIRE carefully raises her head and looks out the window. Through the blinds she can see GORD talking on his mobile, distracted by DAVE’s call.

She reaches up and sweeps the WALLET, CREDIT CARD and CREDIT CARD STATEMENTS down off the desk and into her hands. At the same time, she accidentally knocks something else off the desk–plastic BOUNCES on the floor. She picks up a small LIPSTICK TUBE and grimaces.

GORD (O.S.)
Listen, I don’t know what kind of
bullshit stunt you’re trying to pull,
but if you call this number again I
will fuck you until your ass bleeds
butterflies.

Knowing that her time is limited, CLAIRE picks up all the tools, items and statements and hustles out of the room, still in a half-crouched position.

CUT TO:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / DOWNSTAIRS FOYER – CONTINUOUS

GORD closes the front door behind him. The house is dark.

GORD
Claire?

No answer. He walks forward and into the hall where the entrance to his office is. He is unable to see the unscrewed doorknob on the ground from where he is because of the darkness.

GORD (CONT’D)
Claire? You there babe?

CLAIRE (o.s.)
Gord?

GORD turns and follows her voice.

GORD
Where are you?

CLAIRE (O.S.)
I’m… in the kitchen.

CUT TO:

INT. LIBRARY (FLASHBACK) – EVENING

CLAIRE is in the stacks, looking through textbooks on the psychology of fidelity. She picks up a particularly thick volume titled: “The End of the Affair: Rebuilding the Trust in Your Relationship.”

JOHN (O.S.)
It couldn’t hurt to try.

CLAIRE peeks through the stacks to the other side and sees JOHN FISCHER. He is leaning against the shelves with his back to her, slyly glancing over his shoulder at the book in her hands.

CLAIRE
What’s that?

JOHN
Rebuilding trust. Moving on. Never
hurts to give it some thought.

CLAIRE stares at the book she is holding, placing it back on the shelf after a moment’s hesitation.

CLAIRE
Maybe sometimes.

JOHN
But not this time?

CLAIRE
No.
(Beat)
Definitely not.

CUT TO:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / KITCHEN – NIGHT

CLAIRE quickly stuffs the WALLET, LIPSTICK TUBE and CREDIT CARD STATEMENTS into a drawer with various bits of silverware. The CREDIT CARD falls to the ground. She quickly picks it up and slips it into her pocket.

She takes the FLASHLIGHT and TOOLS and stashes them under the kitchen sink. She only barely has time to stand up when GORD enters the kitchen.

GORD
What were you doing?

CLAIRE
(Flustered)
When?

GORD
Just now.

CLAIRE shrugs.

CLAIRE
Nothing much – just a bit of tidying
up.

She pauses as GORD drops his BRIEFCASE on the kitchen table and loosens his TIE.

CLAIRE (CONT’D)
I-I thought you weren’t going to be
home until later.

GORD
(Tired)
You and me both.

CLAIRE
What happened?

GORD
Some idiot on the board of directors
missed his flight. We couldn’t go
ahead without his signature on the
contract. Damn fool was probably
off somewhere, sniffing the ass of
his secretary in a supply closet.

CLAIRE cringes slightly at the statement. Her reaction is missed by GORD.

CLAIRE
So what will happen now?

GORD
(Sighs)
We go in tomorrow and do it all over
again.
(Beat)
Since when have you been so interested
in what I’m doing?

CLAIRE
What do you mean?

GORD
I can’t remember the last time you
asked me about my day. Why the sudden
interest?

CUT TO:

INT. LIBRARY (FLASHBACK) – EVENING

CLAIRE
What’s the best way to do this?

JOHN
Are you sure about what you want?

CLAIRE
Absolutely.

JOHN
And there’s no other way to do this.

CLAIRE
No.
(Beat)
I’ve thought about it so many times,
in so many different situations.
This is it. This is the only way
it’s going to work. I’m sure of it.

JOHN
All right. Then you need to set him
up. Get on his nerves. Push him
into a corner that he sees no way
out of.

CLAIRE
You mean… literally?

JOHN
Literally, emotionally, it doesn’t
matter. So long as he doesn’t see
any alternative, he’s going to react,
and you’re going to have to be
prepared.

CLAIRE inhales nervously, nodding in agreement.

JOHN (CONT’D)
You’re not looking too confident.

CLAIRE
I’m just nervous, that’s all.

JOHN
You don’t have to do this. You know
that.

CLAIRE
No, I do. I need to get what’s mine.

JOHN nods silently to himself, clearly understanding her determination, though the glimmer in his eyes shows sadness and disapproval at her decision.

JOHN
Then get him talking. I’ll do the
rest.

CLAIRE
You’ll be ready?

There’s no answer.

CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Mr. Fischer?

CLAIRE peeks through the stacks again, but JOHN has disappeared.

CUT TO:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / KITCHEN – NIGHT

CLAIRE
(Nervously)
I don’t know what you mean. I always
ask about your day.

GORD
Maybe once upon a time, but lately…
(Beat)
You look nervous.

He stares at CLAIRE, whose face has become flushed with fear.

GORD (CONT’D)
You’re sweating. You look like…
what’s going on, Claire?

He watches her carefully, noting as her eyes quickly dart to the silverware drawer when she blinks.

GORD (CONT’D)
What’s in there?

CLAIRE quickly moves in front of the drawer.

CLAIRE
Nothing.

GORD
Move, Claire.

CLAIRE
I said it was nothing.

GORD
(Menacingly)
Move.

CUT TO:

P.O.V. EXT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS

From the shaky-cam positioned outside the kitchen window, we see as GORD pushes CLAIRE out of the way and opens the drawer.

CUT TO:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS

Inside the drawer, GORD finds the LIPSTICK TUBE, the WALLET and the CREDIT CARD STATEMENTS. He opens the wallet and sees there is a card missing.

He turns to CLAIRE.

GORD
Where is it?

CLAIRE
I… I can explain.

GORD steps in front of her and forces his hands into her pockets, fishing out the missing CREDIT CARD. He holds it in front of her face, his eyes narrow with hatred.

GORD
Where did you get this?

CLAIRE looks away, scared.

CLAIRE
Your pants… you left them out.

GORD
(Furious)
And you went through them?
Before CLAIRE can answer, he turns and storms down the hall,
away from the kitchen.

CUT TO:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / DOWNSTAIRS HALLWAY – NIGHT

GORD turns on the light in the hall and sees the GAPING HOLE in his office door where the knob used to be. He turns around, anger painted on his face.

CLAIRE stands at the other end of the hall. The two of them face one another with a gap of several feet between them.

GORD
I want answers.

CLAIRE tosses a file folder of black and white photographs on the ground. They scatter across the floor. GORD can clearly see himself and the UNKNOWN WOMAN in the photographs.

CLAIRE
(Confident, but still
fearful. Her voice
quivers slightly
when she speaks.)
No. I want answers.

END EPISODE 2

EPISODE 3:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / KITCHEN – NIGHT

CLAIRE backs into the kitchen as GORD approaches her from the hallway.

GORD
What gives you the right to go
snooping around in my private life?

CLAIRE
Your private life? I’m your private
life, you bastard! That?

She points to the photographs scattered on the ground in the hallway behind them

CLAIRE (CONT’D)
That’s something else altogether.

GORD closes the gap between them and grabs CLAIRE at her sides.

GORD
Who told you about this?

CLAIRE forces her way out of his grip. Her nervousness disappears as anger and hurt take over.

CLAIRE
Nobody told me. I’m not some blind
ditz for you to fuck around with.

CUT TO:

P.O.V. EXT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS

Shaky-cam shot from outside the window as GORD slaps her across the face.

The scene pauses, capturing the slap for a second as if a photograph has been taken.

The LOW BREATHING begins to ACCELERATE as time resumes.

CUT TO:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS

GORD
Don’t you talk to me like that!

CLAIRE turns away from him and massages her jaw. She turns back around and faces him once again.

CLAIRE
You don’t own me.

GORD
Who took the photos?

CLAIRE
I’m not yours to toy with–not any
longer.

GORD
Tell me!

CLAIRE
(Grins)
No.

Enraged, GORD takes hold of CLAIRE and pushes her to the ground. She falls hard and tries to scamper away, no longer
able to restrain her fear.

GORD walks up behind her as she tries to escape, crawling away on her hands and knees. He reaches down and grabs her by the hair. She SCREAMS. He lifts her off the ground and hits her across the face. She falls to the ground and blacks out.

CUT TO BLACK:

The sound of FINGERS SNAPPING can be heard through the darkness.

JOHN (v.o.)
Are you all right?

FADE IN:

INT. BISSEL HOUSEHOLD / LIVING ROOM – MORNING

CLAIRE is sprawled on a couch. Her face is caked in dried blood. As she opens her eyes, JOHN is standing above her, his camera in hand. He hands her a wet towel, which she presses gingerly to her face.

CLAIRE
I’m okay.

JOHN
You don’t look it.

CLAIRE
No, I don’t imagine I would.
(Beat)
It doesn’t matter.

JOHN
Do you have some place to stay? In
case he comes back.

CLAIRE
(She moans as she
sits up, her head
throbbing)
I can call my sister. Do you think
you could give me a lift to the
hospital?

JOHN nods and helps her to her feet. She staggers, barely able to keep steady on both legs. He swings one of her arms over his neck and guides her out of the room.

CUT TO:

INT. JOHN’S JEEP – MORNING

JOHN helps CLAIRE into the jeep, then gets in and starts the engine. Her head rolls to one side and she looks at him through red and swollen eyes.

JOHN
He got the wallet. Statements too,
before he left.

CLAIRE
(Coughing)
It doesn’t matter.
(Beat)
Did you get what you needed?

JOHN holds up his CAMERA and nods.

JOHN
I did.

He passes her a crumpled photograph–it is the one that shows GORD and the UNKNOWN WOMAN entering the hotel suite.

JOHN (CONT’D)
He didn’t get everything, though. I
can reprint the others if you need
them.

CLAIRE takes the photo from JOHN and crumples it in her fist, looking away from it as a tear rolls down her cheek.

JOHN (CONT’D)
(Confused)
You don’t need it?

CLAIRE
I never want to see it again.
(Beat)
We’ve got everything we need.

JOHN puts the jeep in gear and they drive away.

CUT TO:

INT. GIBSON’S INVESTIGATIONS – AFTERNOON

DAVE is seated behind his desk with a large mug of BLACK COFFEE in front of him.

JOHN walks in and closes the door behind him. He sets down a stack of BLACK AND WHITE PHOTOGRAPHS. In each one, taken from outside the kitchen window where JOHN hid through the assault, GORD can be seen savagely beating CLAIRE.

DAVE picks up the photos and flips through them, his expression never changing as the photos become progressively more disturbing.

DAVE
Has she seen these?

JOHN
Gave her copies of each one. She
should have enough to murder the prenup
and clean him out.

DAVE
Why divorce the bugger when she can
get him locked away instead.

DAVE smiles and slides a cheque across the desk towards JOHN. JOHN stares at the cheque for a moment, then looks up at DAVE again.

JOHN
I really need you to answer me.
I’ve got to know how you do it.

DAVE
Do what?

JOHN
This. The job. How do you stand
it? Doesn’t it suck you dry?

DAVE
Nothin’ easier.

DAVE leans back and folds his hands together into a ball, casually crossing one leg over the other behind his desk.

DAVE (CONT’D)
‘S good money. Sooner you can learn
that sweet ‘n’ tender little fact,
the happier you’ll be.

JOHN
It’s not clean, though. Not even a
little bit. None of it is.

DAVE
Look, call it whatever you want.
Tell me what we do is horrible, that
we’re despicable fucking people, if
it helps you sleep at night. But
this-(DAVE stabs the cheque
on the desk with his
INDEX FINGER.)
DAVE (CONT’D)
-Is a lot of digits to shake your
head at. You think too hard about
staying on the up ‘n’ ups all the
time, and you’ll lose yourself in
this mess. And I can guarantee, in
the end, you’ll hate yourself for
it.

JOHN
Doesn’t make it right.

DAVE
Don’t matter, Johnny. Doesn’t negate
the need one tit, an’ don’t try t’
pretend that it could. Money’s money.
‘S all you need to worry about.

CUT TO BLACK:

END

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