A/N first of all, the disclaimer: Angel is mine, Joey is mine, but everything else? Isn't.

Second, I've only seen Secret Window once (I know, I know... I begged and begged but forgot that it went out of theatres so quickly!) And I'm SURE that I made some mistakes in this chapter, and I couldn't find the script anywhere. Corrections?

Angel stared at the rickety little cabin sitting in front of her car. It looked as if it was about to fall apart at any second. The paint was chipping, and the blinds were torn and strewn about the windows. Well, at least it looked spacious.
"Welcome to Tashmore Lake, Angel." She muttered to herself. "Home of the psycho's."
She pulled the handle on the inside of her car, and it snapped off in her hand.
"Shit!" She swore, staring at the handle sitting in her hand, like it was mocking her. She slid over to the passenger door and opened it, getting out of the car. "Stupid old car... totally worthless."
She walked around to the driver's side door and looked at it from the outside. It looked normal... there was nothing wrong. So what had happened?

She stared back at the cabin and frowned. "So I guess this is it then?" She imagined what the newspaper stories would say; 'LOCAL ACTRESS MURDERED BY WRITER' and the article could say 'In a frantic hurry to drive away, Angel was killed because she could not open the door to her car.'
Angel took a deep breath and summoned all the courage she could find, until finally she walked up the steps and through the screen door to knock on the door to the cabin.
There was no answer. And the doorbell was broken. She knocked again, more persistently. What would she do if there was nobody there?
She knocked again, and when there was still no answer, she turned and looked at her car, frowning and trying to think of something to do.
She knocked again and then she turned the handle to the door, ignoring the little voice in her head telling her that it was not a good idea to break into the home of murderers.
The door swung open, unlocked.
"Hello?" She called uneasily.
She took a few hesitant steps inside, only to find that there was a disheveled looking man sitting on a couch, smoking and typing furiously on a shiny silver laptop. He had blonde streaked hair and a ragged pinstriped backrobe made with clashing colors. He was wearing glasses, and they were falling down on his face, but he appeared not to notice anything except for the laptop sitting on his lap.
For a moment, Angel just stared. Then, he sat back and stared at the laptop for a while, not typing, just... staring. He smoked for a while longer, and Angel just watched, unsure of what she should say in this situation.
"Uh... excuse me?" She said finally. He looked up, and then jumped, startled.
"Why didn't you answer the door?" She asked.
"I- I'm sorry? Who are you?" The man asked, standing up and looking very confused.
"Oh, uh..." Angel stuck her hand out, "I'm Angel Grant, I'm the actress who's acting in the movie being made from your book."
"You are?" The man said. "That's nice."
Angel waited. The man didn't say anything.
"Are you Mort Rainey?" She asked finally, realizing he wasn't going to say anything else.
"Er, yeah, yes I am." His eyes shifted slowly back to his laptop, and then to her.
Angel caught the hint. "I take it you're sort of busy." She asked. He didn't say anything. "Well, my agent told me I was supposed to spend a while with you to sort of get a feel for my character... Amy, right?"
"Yeah," Mort said distantly. "You look like her."
"Excuse me?" Angel asked. "She's a real person? Wasn't she murdered in the story?"
"No, she's not real," Mort said quickly. "Just... you look like how I imagined her." He finished.
"Oh," Angel said, and there was more silence.
"It's sort of late," She said nervously.
"Is it?" Mort asked, looking outside. "Well, I guess you can sleep upstairs in my room for today, and there's some food in the kitchen if you're hungry or anything." His attention turned back to the computer.
"Oh..." Angel said. "Um... alright." She hung her purse on the rack next to the door, then changed her mind and took it upstairs with her, just in case.
"Want a smoke?" She heard Mort call from downstairs.
"No thanks." She called back. She hadn't had any drugs since she had to go into rehab when she was thirteen.
She went upstairs into the room that Mort had pointed out, and it was dark in there. She flipped the light switch and dropped her purse on the bed, instantly digging through it for her cell phone.
She quickly dialed Mark's number, (she knew it by heart already) and waited for him to pick up.
"Hello?" She heard his voice and breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"Mark?"
"Angel? What happened, why are you calling?"
"What do you mean?" Angel asked, looking at the bed she was supposed to sleep on tonight. She wondered if it would be possible that she could find a change of sheets. "You're my boyfriend, and my agent, Mark, and suddenly I'm not allowed to call?"
Mark was silent for a moment. "You didn't just call to chat with me, Angel, what is wrong?"
Angel sat down on the bed and sighed. "I don't know, Mark, it's creepy, being out here; This guy really is a psycho."

She heard Mark sigh on the other end, and then say, "Well, I don't know what to tell you, Angel. It's a little late to be backing out now."

"Alright Mark." Angel said, running a hand through her hair. "Talk to you later, then."

"Bye." Angel pressed 'end' on her cell phone and then lay back on the bed with a definite uneasy feeling. Mark didn't seem to be himself lately, but there was nothing she could do except just let things happen. She sighed and closed her eyes for a minute, when she herd a noise at the door and sat up straight. There was a man standing in the doorway, and he wasn't the man she had seen before on the couch. "Who are you?" She asked.
"Hey, don't be scared, baby, be cool. Names Joseph Hockler, but you, darling, can call me Joey. I'm the actor who's going to play George... you know, in the movie."
"The murderer, eh?" Angel said, smiling and relaxing. Joey seemed perfectly nice, and she was glad that she wasn't alone in this.
"That dude down there's pretty creepy, eh? Doesn't know how to chill. Been writing all day, ever since I got here."
"Really?" Angel asked, amazed.
"Yeah, yeah. You better believe it, baby. And he has corn by the bucketload in the kitchen. I mean, there's other stuff too, but mostly just corn."
"Wow." Angel said.
"Yeah. Maybe he's a corn vampire or something. By the way, I don't believe you've introduced yourself." He flashed her an award-winning grin. "What you already know is that my name is Joey. Now yours is...?"
"Grant. Angel Grant." She said in a James Bond-like way. Joey smiled and so did Angel, but inside of her somewhere she was thinking that he was a little strange as well.