Electra/Orestes Scene

Dark sunlight at last. I have driven you mad.

Yes, and I have driven you mad.

Yes. And who better to kill her now than her two mad children? We will cavort and drool and shriek prophecies in gibberish. We will be happy and appalling. Free at last.

Oh, Electra. Your terrible eyes. They have been open too long.

Like yours.

I’m tired of killing.

I’m tired of waiting.

Let’s just go to sleep somewhere finally, let the years go by, let’s curl into each other the way we used to do, make new dreams.

Not yet. Your work is not over.

Let me sleep.

No.

I can’t raise my arm again.

Only once more. That’s all. Like this. High. High.

You know how. You do it. God, why haven’t you done it? You’ve had time enough.

I can’t. It’s for you.

You have the hatred. I’m past it. You can do it.

No! I can’t! If I could have done it, don’t you think I would have done it long ago? God. The misery I could have saved myself—all these years waiting for you, who never came, never wrote. All these years, thinking of you out in the world, loose, knowing things, seeing people. Looking at something—anything, other than this. At sea somewhere, shirt sticking to your back, watching the sky go crimson and enormous.

It was never like that. Ditch to ditch, death to death, that’s all.

Please. Free me. You owe me. I gave you your life for this. Only for this.

Yes, I know. For this. My life’s pilot. Thank you. You have no idea what you’ve made me into.

What do you think it has been for me? Waiting, waiting for my reluctant body to finally come back to me and do something. Here. My hand. My arm. Complete me.

Oh, Electra. We should have kept our eyes closed.