SCRIPT (FINALISED)

 SCRIPT (FINALISED)

script written by Alishba hasan

INT. LONELY PARK ALLEY – NIGHT

A narrow, empty stretch of path. Dim streetlights/light

A TEENAGE GIRL runs, her breath uneven and panicked, Her footsteps echo too loudly in the silence. Behind her,

ANOTHER SET OF FOOTSTEPS.

They’re close.

She glances over her shoulder, fear written all over her face, then runs faster.

The camera stays tight behind her, shaky, struggling to keep up.

She turns sharply and slips behind a tall concrete wall, pressing her back against it. Her hand flies to her mouth as she tries to slow her breathing.

Silence.

She closes her eyes, counting under her breath.

Then, A sudden hand clamps over her mouth from behind.

Her eyes widen in terror,

She’s dragged backward, disappearing into the darkness.

CUT TO BLACK.

EXT. PARK ALLEY – LATER

The ground is still. Too still.

Part of a body lies motionless at the edge of the frame, never fully seen, never identified.

The night is quiet, almost respectful, as if the world itself is holding its breath.

The camera slowly moves closer, then stops.

FADE OUT.

INT. FAMILY HOUSE – NIGHT (MONTAGE)

Soft, muted images.

The MOTHER collapses into the FATHER’s arms, her grief silent but overwhelming.

He holds her tightly, eyes hollow, trying not to break.

The house feels empty, lights off, rooms untouched, sound swallowed by silence.

Time passes, but the pain stays.

INT. GIRL’S BEDROOM – DAY (ONE YEAR LATER)

The room is frozen in time, Posters still on the wall, Clothes neatly folded, Everything exactly as it was.

The MOTHER stands near the cupboard, hesitant, She slowly begins to clean, her hands shaking as she touches her daughter’s things.

Something slips.

A DIARY falls to the floor,

The sound is sharp in the quiet room.

She stares at it for a moment, then bends down and picks it up, sensing its weight.

INT. GIRL’S BEDROOM – CONTINUOUS

The mother opens the diary and reads.

Her face changes.

Shock., Fear, Recognition.

Her breath catches.

Slowly, she lifts her head and turns toward the doorway.

INT. GIRL’S BEDROOM – DOORWAY

The younger sister stands there, perfectly still.

She smiles, Not sweet, Not innocent,

Something about it feels wrong, too calm, too knowing.

The mother freezes, understanding crashing down on her all at once.

The sister’s smile lingers.

CUT TO BLACK.