She stops at stage left and looks toward the attic.

OLDER CATHY. I don’t know whether she opened the door during the very early morning hours or if she had a peephole, but she knew I hadn’t cut my hair. The scissors, in fact, still lay where she had dropped them, as if none of us wanted to touch them and be contaminated. But hearing Carrie and Cory moan at night and seeing them withering was too much. I finally picked up the scissors.

Older Cathy walks off, and the lights come up on the attic.

Scene 4

Cathy, her head wrapped in a makeshift turban, spoons out cereal to Cory, Carrie, and Christopher. No one speaks. There’s a funereal stillness and lethargy to their movements. Cory just stares down at his bowl.

CHRISTOPHER. You’ve got to eat, Cory. I told you.

CATHY. This sugarless crap is like eating powdered cement. She doesn’t include cookies for them anymore, and those cheese sandwiches are on stale bread. I should have used the scissors on her, not myself.

They hear the lock being turned. Corrine steps in, with two large bags in her hands, but no one moves, and no one speaks.

CORRINE. Darlings, I’m back. I’ve missed you all so much and brought you wonderful gifts.

She sets the bags down and waits.

CORRINE. No one is going to jump up to kiss me?

She looks to Christopher. He turns and looks down at his bowl of dry cereal.

CORRINE. What is it?

Cathy slowly unwraps her head. Her hair is cut down to her scalp.

CORRINE. Cathy! What did you do to your beautiful hair?

CHRISTOPHER. She had to do it.

CORRINE. Why? Ringworm? Some infection?

CHRISTOPHER. Yes, some infection. Your mother insisted that she do it because she forgot and left the bathroom door open while she and Carrie were getting ready to take a bath. She refused to give us any more food until Cathy did it.

CORRINE. Oh. I’m so sorry, Cathy.

CATHY. You’re so sorry?

CHRISTOPHER [finally in a stern tone]. When we first arrived, you told us we’d be here for a few days. And then it became weeks and months, while we waited for an old man to die, a man whose doctors you admit are skilled at keeping him alive.

CATHY. It’s impossible for us to live like this anymore. [Turning back to Corrine.] You’re taking us out of here today.

Corrine looks to Christopher and sees that he is just as determined. She sinks into a chair.

CORRINE. All right. I was going to wait to tell you the good news, but I’ll tell you now.

CATHY [rising, hopeful]. He’s died?

CORRINE. No, not yet. But he’s turned worse. He’s confined to his bed.

CHRISTOPHER [standing]. Then what’s the good news?

CORRINE. I’ve remarried. [Quickly.] Before you react, just listen. I’ve married Bart Winslow.

CATHY. The man you were dancing with at the party?