KAREN, in dishevelled hen night outfit, stumbles into woodland glade.
Throws up.
Her phone ringing.
She finds it, presses to answer – and places on a tree stump.
| GEORGE: | &&& | Karen? |
| & | ||
| & | ||
| Karen it’s George. Karen? | ||
| & | ||
| & | ||
| What are you angry at me? Where are you? | ||
| & | ||
| & | ||
| Your mum called the police. They’re looking for you. | ||
| & | ||
| & | ||
| Did you have a row with the girls? | ||
| & | ||
| & | ||
| Karen? | ||
| & | ||
| & | ||
| If that’s not Karen. If this is someone else. | ||
| & | ||
| & | ||
| If you’ve got Karen. | ||
| & | ||
| & | ||
| You sick fuck it was her hen night. | ||
| & | ||
| & | ||
| I will fucking break you open. | ||
| & | ||
| & | ||
| You hear me? | ||
| & | ||
| & | ||
| I will be the last thing you ever see. |
Exit KAREN.