Well, look at that. I never thought I'd try this out, but I wanted to write for this movie. It's one of my favorite horror movies. ^u^
I watched the movie three days ago, and decided, "Why not?" This is basically an extended ending to the movie. I wanted to see what Mildred's input would be to Anna's return to the hospital. So yeah, this is what it is; an extended ending.
Anyhow, that's all I wanted to say; let's get on with the story.
Anna traipse out the door and up to Mildred Kemp's room. She peered in, determination surging in her.
"I didn't know she wasn't you," she said.
"What?," uttered Mildred, turning around, like she didn't hear her.
"I thought she was you," repeated Anna. "I thought Rachel was you."
Mildred chuckled, obviously amused. "What made you think she was me?"
Anna stood, eyes darting in different directions. Whatever defense she was grasping for was melting away.
"But I told you," said Mildred, pacing toward the window, keeping her gaze on Anna. "They stopped me, and they stopped you."
Anna observed Mildred. Comparing her to Rachel, Mildred's face was more rugged, and more triangular. The bags under her eyes stripped her of whatever attractiveness she had left. Rachel had a more delicate, oval-shaped face, and her blonde hair was more shiny, more bouncy than Mildred's. Where Mildred was pale, Rachel was well-tone from her time running in the sun. So similar, and yet, so different.
"Admit it," spoke Mildred, "you knew what you were doing."
"I didn't know," barked Anna, "I thought she was a murderer."
Mildred chortled, throwing her head back, forming into a ghoulish grin. Her eyes looked ready to pop out of their sockets.
"And you didn't notice that your sister was dead?," she cackled.
"I thought she was there," uttered Anna.
She recollected every moment in her house. Every second, every minute spent with Alex, and she so desperately wished for all of it to be true. She wanted the truth to be a lie. To not face the fact that Alex was dead.
"You're never getting out of here," said Mildred condescendingly. "I've been here ever since I killed those brats and their daddy. I wanted him all to myself, but they stopped me. So I decided if I can't have him, nobody can."
Anna sauntered back into her room. Mildred trailed behind her, a predatory gaze decorated her face.
"Your daddy's going to forget you," chimed Mildred, her smile sinister.
"You're wrong," spat Anna.
"He's never coming back for you," repeated Mildred, "he'll move on and start a new family and replace you."
Anna stared into space. The room felt tighter; the walls seemed to close in on her and she would be flattened down. Her being felt immobilized, and she ordered her paralyzed limbs to move. All this time she spent in this place, she screamed at the nightmares to stop. She fought demons that weren't there. She wanted to hurt others because she was hurt. She bargained with herself to take it back, to turn back the clock, but it was never going to happen. This was the reality she had.
"Admit it," snipped Mildred, "you're just like me."
No, I'm not.
"You knew what you were doing, and you liked it. You wanted to kill her for taking away what you loved. Do you think you're truly innocent?"
"No," replied Anna hoarsely, "I don't. But neither is anyone. They all played a part in my pain."
Her father slept with Rachel the night the boathouse burnt down. He didn't care enough to tell her and Alex from the beginning. And Rachel, she wasn't innocent as to not say she didn't have a hand in her mother's death. Anna didn't want to accept the facts, but they were right there in front of her.
She glimpsed over at the family photo. There was her mother, her father, Alex, herself, and her. Rachel's face was cut out.
"I know that feeling," spoke Mildred, "that feeling you get when you hold the knife in your hand. It feels good and you don't want the feeling to end."
She was right. Anna remembered the adrenaline when she looked down and saw to her sheer horror that she held the bloody knife and not Alex's hand. The utter confusion that followed after that revelation, then was replaced with unexplained pleasure. She suppressed the desire to laugh.
"You're wrong," blurted Anna. She turned around, looking Mildred straight in the eye. "You're wrong! You're wrong, you're wrong, you're WRONG!"
"Deny it all you want," quipped Mildred cooly, "but face it; you wanted to do it. You wanted to chuck her out."
"Mildred," said the nurse, grabbing the woman's arm, "you know you're not suppose to go into other patients' rooms."
"I finally get to tell you all my stories again," quoth Mildred.
The nurse led Mildred away and back to her own room across the hall from Anna's. The nurse also closed Anna's door. She turned around, looking out the window. The sky was a clear, crisp blue. Not a cloud in the sky. She took the time to contemplate everything that's happened.
She lost her mother. She lost her sister. She lost Matt. Now she lost her father. Even though he wasn't dead, Anna wish he were dead, so she wouldn't be feeling this guilt. She wished Rachel had been a murderer. It was her fault, not hers. She was the one who ruined the family, not her. All of it was for nothing and she hated it.
Now that she was here, there was nothing left for her to do except wallow in her self-denial. Her memories didn't seem her own, but someone else's.
It was there. All of it was there. How could she be so careless as to not see it? Maybe deep down she didn't want to see it, and it was better believing that than facing the real truth.
The truth as molding itself into something she didn't want to accept. She did kill Rachel, but only because she thought she was a murderer. She didn't know for one minute that Rachel was not. Anna wasn't imagining it then; it was right there. She wasn't crazy, it was all there.
She wasn't that far gone. Right?
She'd been listening to Mildred's rambles for ten months, and she hated every minute. Anna couldn't have imagined any of it. She wasn't losing herself. She was here. None of the things Dr. Silberling said was true. Anna was fine. He was wrong. They were all wrong. She was the only sane one in this hellhole.
Right?
Right?
Right?
How was that for The Uninvited? It's not my best work, but I got to see if this would work out. And I think I did alright.