Misery Prologue+1

A room in a house. There is one bed. A man lies there. He does not move. Might be dead.

From beyond the door of the room, the faint sounds of a television program like Chuck Woolery's "Love Connection."* Then, a kitchen timer is heard faintly from beyond the door.

The door cracks open, and Annie Wilkes appears in the doorway. She wears, as always, a cardigan sweater. Annie is like no one else on this or any planet.

She moves to the bed and begins to speak, with such tenderness.

Paul? It’s me.

Paul makes no sound. Annie produces two pills from her sweater pocket, lifts Pauls' head, opens his mouth, puts the pills in his mouth, and ensures they move down his throat. She lowers his head to the pillow.

Nothing bad can happen to you now. Not with Annie here. I’m your number one fan.

Annie exits. The sound of the TV stops abruptly; Annie has turned it off for the night. In the silence, she reenters Pauls' room, so close to him.

(Whispers.)

I’m your number one fan.

Now there is light— dawn. Sun floods in through the window. Annie si stil ni the chair, watching Paul. She ses hmi stirring and moves toward him.

PAUL. Where am I...?

Shh. You’re outside Silver Creek, Colorado. This is my home.

Paul moans in pain.

You’re going to be okay. My name is Annie Wilkes. I’m a nurse.

PAUL. (Alarmed.) My legs… they're on fire.

Yes, I’m sure they are. Soon you can have your pain pills, your Novril, but it’s not time yet.

PAUL. What happened?

You were in a car crash, Paul. When I saw your car at the bottom of that hill, I won’t lie to you, I thought you were done for. I had to crowbar the door open and there was glass all inside everywhere, and you weren’t moving. It was not easy getting you out… but I’m a determined woman and I did it. I laid you in the snow and forced air inside you and I said, “Breathe, you hear me! Breathe!” I had to make you live. And that’s what I did. I got you up that hill and into my truck. You’ve had a couple close calls but that’s all over now.

Paul shifts slightly and winces, reaches for his shoulder, which is in a sling.

Your shoulder was pretty badly dislocated, too. That was stubborn but I finally popped it back in. But what I’m most proud of is the work I did on your legs. Considering what I had around the house, I don’t think there’s a doctor hereabouts could have done any better.

She moves the bedcover so he can see his legs. Paul looks down, is stunned with disbelief. But we don't see his legs yet.

You have a compound fracture of the tibia in both legs and the fibula of the right leg is fractured too.

Paul inhales sharply.

It’s not nearly as bad as it looks, please believe that.

PAUL. Shouldn't I be in the hospital?

I’ll get you to a hospital, as soon as the roads open. I tried calling but the phone lines are still down. But I could hear the bones moving when I worked on you, so it really is best for your legs to remain immobile for now.

Now she gently puts the sheet back over him .

PAUI. How long have I been here?

This is your fourth morning.

PAUL. And I was unconscious that whole time?

Almost all the time. But when I heard your first scream, I was so relieved.

PAUL. I was screaming?

Dying men rarely scream. They don’t have the energy for it. I know.

Annie indicates a makeshift IV stand.

We don’t need this anymore. That’s some good news.

Paul looks at his arm, touches it, but it hurts to move.

PAUL. Will I be able to walk again?

Well, you won’t go dancing for a while, but yes, you sure will. That’s a promise.

Annie turns to go.

PAUL. Hey. Ma’am. In the car, next to me, there was a leather case.

I have it, Paul. It’s safe.

PAUL. (Very relieved.) Thank God… thank you.

You’re welcome. Now, no more questions. You need your rest. You almost died. You’re in good hands, Paul. After all, I’m your number one…

PAUL. (And now the memory of what he heard while unconscious makes sense.) … my number one fan.

Your number one fan. Yes, I sure am. And trust me, there ain’t no number two.