Medium (2005–2011): Season 1, Episode 15 - Penny for Your Thoughts - full transcript

Elisha? The doctor will see you now.

Mom, I'm 14.

Well, I mean, I always go in with you.

Mom, I'll be fine. It's just my knee.

Fine...

I guess.

Can I help you?

I don't know. It just seems like my daughter's
been in there an awfully long time.

Doctor?

Mrs. Walters was just wondering about an ETA on Elisha.

Doctor?



Doctor, please open this door.

Oh, my God. Something's wrong. I can feel it.

- Doctor?!
- What's going on?

I don't know. The door's locked.

What do you mean, locked?
I need to see my daughter.

- Mrs. Walters, you should really wait...
- Open that door! Open it right now!

I need to see my daughter!

Elisha!

Elisha?!

Elisha?!

First, do no harm.

I swear in the presence of the Almighty
and before my family, my teachers and my peers

that according to my ability and judgment,
I will keep this Oath and Stipulation.

Ladies...



if you'll kindly take a seat in the waiting room,

the Doctor and I will finish up
and be with you shortly.

MEDIUM - S01E15
Penny for Your Thoughts

Daddy, this is completely unfair.

Nighttime is for homework. Mornings are
for breakfast and getting dressed and...

Not if you don't do your homework at night.

And not if you don't tell anybody about it until
ten minutes from walking out the door.

This isn't really homework.
We're just supposed to guess!

Ariel, it's really homework.

Look, if you don't want my help, just say "Daddy..."

Daddy, I don't want your help.

Hey.

All right. Never mind. Help.

- Come on. This is easy.
- Here. This is easy.

We stack the pennies ten pennies high,
we measure that, okay?

- One-half inch.
- One-half inch.

One-half inch. And then move the stacks into a cube,

which is four stacks wide, four stacks deep, okay?

Then you measure the width and the depth of that square
and multiply that by the height.

We can calculate the volume of 160 pennies.

- Cool.
- Okay?

And once you know that, you can divide
the volume of this container

by that number and calculate how
many pennies are in there.

The assignment is to guess how many pennies are in the jar.

So why can't we just, you know, guess?

Because math isn't about guessing.
Math is about calculation. So let's calculate.

Math is about stupid.

Well, I like math.

What a surprise.

Sweetie, don't get upset. Just do it.

Anything?

A lot of horror stories about medicine,

but most of them are about people losing their health insurance.

Nothing about a 14-year-old girl in a soccer uniform.

Excellent.

Why aren't you smiling?

Do they all have to come true?

Do they all have to mean something?

Well, I'm not rooting for a teenage girl
to get hacked to death

by her doctor if that's what you mean.

You're right. It's like checking the answering machine.

Not everybody who leaves a message is important, but

you'd sure hate to miss the message that is.

On March third, 1991, a Dr. Kenneth Holloway was treating

a 14-year-old girl for some kind of sports injury.

After he and the girl had been in the exam room for over an hour,

the mother asked the nurse to check on them.

Just like in your dream.

Holloway had molested the girl and then he
began savagely dissecting her.

He had already removed her small
and large intestine

when the nurse and the victim's mother
finally broke in on him.

That's him.

That's the guy I dreamt about.

1991? Are you sure?

Check the file.

I remember they stuck him in the Halcott Institute.

State-run mental facility outside Yuma.

I don't understand. They found him with the body.

He admitted he killed her. Why isn't he in prison?

I was Assistant D.A. at the time.

I didn't handle the case, but I remember
that Holloway claimed

that he had been hearing voices urging him to butcher
young girls for almost two years.

His lawyer argued that since this was the first
and only child his client had hurt

that he shouldn't be punished for his crime,
but instead be treated for his illness.

And the jury agreed.

Who's this?

That's Brittany Walters.

The girl Dr. Holloway murdered?

- Are you sure?
- Yeah.

It says right here.

This isn't the same girl from my dream.

She looked different and

I don't think her name was Brittany.

They called her "Elisha." Everyone called her Elisha.

I don't know what to tell you.

- What about the other guy?
- What "other guy"?

There was another man in the room.

He wore a dark suit. He had these piercing eyes.

I don't recall ever hearing about someone else being involved.

Allison, this crime was solved over 14 years ago.

What do we think?

You're amazing.

You think I could get maybe a hundred copies for the District Attorney?

What are the chances of my, uh...?

I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something?

No, no, no. We're just making copies.
Could you come back in ten minutes?

Who might this be?

Looks familiar.

Someone's accomplice, I think.

What'd he do?

He and his friend raped a young girl,

sliced her open, took her apart.

Wow. How come I didn't hear about this?

It happened a while ago.

'91, I think.

Excuse me?

I had one of my things.

They never caught the guy?

They caught one of them.

But this guy got away?

Kinda. Sorta. I don't think they knew he was there.

I see.

Cold case with a suspect that no one's even looking for.

I don't pick 'em, Detective Scanlon. They pick me.

So then Mr. Beauchamp starts passing out the pennies,

60 or 70 on each person's desk.

And then we start counting them up,

and we write down the totals on the board and add them up:

1,823 pennies exactly.

Exactly.

Exactly.

Is that even close to a katrillion?

It's close.

Oh, also, Miss Bishop sent home a note about something.

It's in my book bag.

It think it might be about math camp.

If it is, I don't want to go.

You get that, I'll get the phone.

Hello.

Allison? It's Lee Scanlon.
Am I catching you at a bad time?

No. I'm just putting the kids to bed. What's going on?

I know how weird this sounds, but I think I found your guy.

The one with the beard.

The one who likes to hack up girls?

You're kidding.

No. Remember I said he looked familiar?

Now I know why.

I'm at this place I come to three or four times
a week to have dinner, and there he is.

Is there any way I could get you to come
down here and I.D. him?

Her math teacher wants to meet with one of us.

I don't think he meant right now.

So he's got a bunch of times down here for tomorrow.

Are you all right with 2:00?

'Cause if you are, I'll just sign this thing
and put it back in Ariel's book bag

and then he'll know to expect you.

Sure.

Detective Scanlon called.

Seems he spotted my bearded accomplice.

The one from 1991?

And you're getting dressed because...

you're afraid to meet him in your dreams and be naked?

He's at a restaurant downtown.

I see.

I'll only be an hour.

Hmm. I'll be here.

You'd better be.

Did you see him?

Don't look around.

Don't call attention to yourself.

Follow me.

Act like we're together.
I'm gonna casually walk by him.

So, did you see him?

- No, I was waiting for you...
- You're kidding!

How about right now? Do you see him?

He's right behind me.

Dr. Charles "The Butcher" Walker of Wichita.

Wanted dead or alive for the maniacal evisceration

of three unmarried daughters from the Great Plains.

Pretty good match, right?

Knew I'd seen him before. Who knew?

Turns out he's a regular.

The thing is, since he was captured
and lynched by an angry mob in 1902,

I'm not completely certain I can put him
at the scene of the Brittany Walters murder.

Oh, come on. It's funny.

You have to admit it's funny, right?

All right. Maybe you don't.

Hi.

You know it's 2:45 in the morning?

I had so much room to move around in bed,
I woke myself up.

So what's it like supping with a serial killer? I mean...

who paid the check?

There was no supping. There was no check.

Turns out my serial killer was dead.

Mm, honey. That bastard.

Standing up my wife.

If he wasn't already dead, I'd kill him.

Uh, hey, here's a crazy thought.

How 'bout you shut down that computer
and come to bed with your husband?

Turns out he's been dead for over a century.

Clearly he's a man of conviction.

So what about this sleeping thing?

You game?

You wanna give it a shot?

"Dr. Charles Walker, born 1870 in Wichita, Kansas,

died in 1902 in Phoenix, Arizona..."

And in between?

And in between, he raped and murdered
14 young women in cold blood.

He'd go from town to town, he'd set up his shingle,

pick out a victim and bide his time.

Wait for her to seek him out for some
kind of medical problem.

Then he'd send his nurse home,
spend a few hours

torturing the girl with various medical devices.

Finally, he'd cut her open and leave her for her family to find.

Who does that sound like?

I just, I don't understand.

Why am I dreaming about Holloway now?

That was almost 15 years ago.

And why am I dreaming about Walker at all? He's...

Sleeping soundly.

...Bush in Washington.

Hello?

May 23, 2005...

Yes, I'm holding for the doctor.

I understand, but I really need to bring
my daughter in there today.

She's been on the medication for a week now,

but she's not getting any better.

In fact, I think she might actually be getting worse.

No, I'm totally flexible.

I just want to get her in there.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

We'll see you then.

Mom?

What's wrong with me?

Elisha baby, don't worry.

The doctor will fix everything.

I need a favor.

You know, I've imagined waking up
like this a bunch of times,

but in my version you weren't dressed.

Can you take the girls to school this morning?

Hmm, wait, this is completely different
from anything I imagined.

And can you pick them up this afternoon?

I see. My mistake.

What this is is a nightmare.

It just took me a second to pick up on it.

Wonderful-- I tell you I need a favor

and instead I get a front row table at The Belly Room.

And just why do you need this favor?

Where are you going to be exactly?

Yuma. Exactly.

Why, pray tell, are you gonna be in Yuma?

I need to talk to Dr. Kenneth Holloway.

Who's' that, the psycho doctor from 1991?

About what?

About a girl named Elisha. I had another
dream about her last night,

and now I know she's not from 1991.

She's actually from right now, and I think she's in danger.

But he's been behind bars for 14 years.
What's he going to tell you?

I don't know. But he's the only person
in any of my dreams that's actually alive.

I have to do something.

- I have to talk to someone.
- But he's four hours away.

Please.

All right.

Thank you.

Wait. No.

Ariel's math teacher. 2:00.

Oh, damn.

All right, fine.

I'll take care of it. I'll handle it.

I'll change something around.
I'll figure something out.

Are you mad?

Very good, mind reader.

You know what, we'll have this fight
when you get back tonight.

Deal.

You see my problem, don't you?

1,788.

That was her estimate.

Her computations, her worksheet,
they all led her to 1,788.

Which, by the way, would have been a wonderful answer.

The whole point of this exercise was
to teach her how to estimate,

and she clearly understands how to estimate.

Okay, so...?

So the answer she ultimately submitted,

the perfect answer by the way,
the exact answer, was 1,823.

1,823.

You can plainly see that her work doesn't match her result.

She clearly didn't arrive at that number based
on any sort of arithmetic process.

How do you suppose she came up with it?

Well, I have the number written down here,
in my lesson plan.

I keep it on my desk--

cover closed, but on my desk.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you suggesting she cheated?

My daughter somehow snuck up to your desk
and looked in your book?

What other logical explanation could there be?

How well do you know my daughter, Mr. Beauchamp?

My daughter's not capable of cheating.

Look, I understand this isn't something a parent
wants to hear.

She guessed, that's all. She made an educated guess.

She has very strong instincts about things,

and I'm sure notwithstanding
what it says on her worksheet,

she just looked at that jar,
it just didn't feel like 1,700...

Mr. Dubois, do you know what the odds
are that someone would guess

the exact number of pennies in that jar?

1,823 to one.

Mm, well, see that? You're wrong.

- Excuse me?
- Well, you're wrong.

- Out of what, 25 kids?
- Yeah.

So assuming that no one guessed under 1,000,
the chance that any one of them

would have guessed the exact number is
actually 25 out of 1,800 and whatever.

That's about one in 40.

What are you, a...?

A mathematician, actually.

The point is is that one in 40 is not entirely
out of the realm of possibility.

Mr. Dubois, she changed her answer.

Impulsively. Who knows why? She's a kid.

She didn't look in your book.
She didn't cheat.

- You don't know that.
- You don't know that she did.

Okay, wait a second. You're a mathematician.
Let's talk probabilities, huh?

Are you suggesting there's a greater probability
that she just happened to guess

the right answer than that she looked in my book?

I'm saying I know my daughter better than you do.
I'm saying I know she didn't cheat.

And I'm saying if you penalize her based
on your completely unfounded suspicion,

then I am going over your head.

Are you threatening me, Mr. Dubois?

Do you think he's dangerous?

Well, he hasn't attacked anyone in the last 12 years,
if that's what you mean.

Listen, all we know is that for as long as people
have been writing about human behavior,

there have been guys like Dr. Holloway.

They used to call them possessed,
or, uh, split personalities.

Kenneth Holloway uffers from a dissociative identity disorder.

He won't get better.

Ever.

All right.

Dr. Holloway.

My name's Allison Dubois. I'm with
the Phoenix District Attorney's office.

Please call me Ken.

I'd shake your hand, but...

Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.

Thank you.

I don't have many visitors.

Thanks for breaking up the monotony of my day.

Do you know this man?

No. I'm sorry.

I don't believe I've ever seen that man before.

He's a doctor.

Likes to rape and cut up young girls.

We don't have a union, Miss Dubois.

It's not like I've seen him at the meetings.

What about the name Elisha?

A young girl around 14 or 15.

Do you know anyone by that name?

How many girls?

Fourteen.

Does he hear the voice?

I don't know.

When you find him, ask him.

He'll know what I'm talking about.

And if he's honest, he'll tell you.

You tell me.

I don't know.

It starts off very quietly.

Mostly when you're alone.

In the shower. In the car.

At night in bed, when my wife was sleeping.

But then you start to hear it everywhere.

In crowds.

In church. On the street.

At a baseball game.

"Look at her. Look at that."

"Don't you want to see it?
Don't you want to touch it?"

"Don't you want to cut it open
and stick your hands in it?"

And then...

it's all on you here.

He lives inside you...

and you can't find yourself anymore.

Whatcha doing?

Nothing.

Counting the stars?

Estimating, darling.

All you can do is estimate.

Sorry I missed dinner and everything.

I ran into traffic on the way back.

That's all right, we're fine.

That's why God created drive-thru.

Dinner of champions.

So, is everyone sleeping?

Ariel's math teacher, Mr. Beauchamp,

he thinks our daughter's a cheater.

What?

Turns out he kept the exact number of pennies
in a lesson plan on his desk,

and he somehow got the idea that Ariel...

She wouldn't do that.

Okay, so what did you tell him?

Well, I told him she made a lucky guess.

He told me that made no sense, and even though
I knew he was right, I also knew that I was right.

And I told him if he penalized my daughter
for being a cheater, I was gonna go the principal.

No, you didn't.

Well... she's not a cheater.

Hello?

Yes, Dr. McGrath.

No, of course I can.

All right, tomorrow, then.

So, how did you leave it with the principal?

Who was on the phone?

Joe...

He gave me a choice. It's up to me.

Either I can file a formal complaint against Mr. Beauchamp

or Ariel can change math teachers.

I got to let him know tomorrow.

Those are the choices?

I did the best I could do.

That's sort of like shooting a cannon to kill a flea.

Well, hey, you know, I'm not the one who ran
off all day talking to some guy

who's been behind bars for 15 years,
who couldn't possibly know

anything about anything concerning the here and now.

Excuse me, it's my job.

You know, I been thinking about that, too,
and as a matter of fact, it's not your job.

You're starting to think that every time you dream a dream,
you're somehow on the clock.

This wasn't a case that was assigned to you,
this is something you chose to do.

Fine.

I will go to school tomorrow and see if I can
speak with Mr. Beauchamp.

Good. Let's see how you make out.

- Okay. Let's.
- Good.

Damn it!

Oh, my. A hink in the plan already.

On the phone just now-- Kenneth Holloway.

Apparently, shortly after I left, he became extremely agitated,
demanded to talk to me.

He told his doctor that there was something
he hadn't told me before, something about Elisha.

Wait, I'm having a d?j? vu.

I will call and make an appointment
to see him day after tomorrow.

Right. I'm sorry, the... teacher or the murderer?

Sorry.

For what?

Making you come back.

Okay.

Is something wrong?

I don't know.

It's the drugs.

Been raising a bit of a ruckus since you left,

so they started in with the meds again.

I don't care, it's... it's kind of nice, actually.

Smooths out the ride, if you know what I mean.

She's dead, by the way.

I'm sorry, who's dead?

Elisha.

That's not possible.

- How can you say that?
- I just saw her.

I don't think so, young lady.
You came here yesterday looking for her.

Unless, by "seeing," you mean with
something other than the eyes.

So you killed her.

Hm? Unbeknownst to anybody while you were in here,

you killed her.

I am psychologically impaired, but I'm not an idiot.

It was in 1990.

I'd been hearing the voice for about a year,

but there were always people around, and for a long time,
I was able to...

not listen.

But that June, I was driving from Phoenix to Los Angeles

for a medical conference all by myself.

I was on I-10, that long stretch of road
where it's just a single lane,

nothing but empty desert.

And, inexplicably,

she was just standing there.

I saw her from miles away.

I thought she was an optical illusion at first,

but I kept getting closer, and she refused to disappear.

It was like she was taunting me.

She was standing on the shoulder with her thumb out.

She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt,

and she had those baby breasts they get at that age.

Dr. Holloway...

She was thirsty. I gave her a soda.

A soda and some sleeping pills.

And by Ely, Nevada, she was out.

I rented a hotel room.

You don't want to hear the rest.

Hm. I remember you.

Sorry.

Hello. Mr. Beauchamp, this is, uh, Allison Dubois.

I am Ariel's mother, and I was hoping to speak with you

at your earliest convenience about the misunderstanding
about Ariel and the penny jar.

Uh, if you could give me a call, at 602-555-0147...

Yes. 'Course I mean it.

I got to call you right back.

What's this?

It's nothing-- which is the good news.

There were no Elishas reported missing or dead in the states

of Arizona, California, Texas or Nevada for the whole of 1990.

No Elishas. No Allyces.

One Lisa, but she was in her '60s.

I don't get it. Why would he lie to me?

Allison, the man's a sociopath--
maybe it gave him some pleasure knowing

that you'd be spinning your wheels
all day looking for a girl who doesn't even exist.

Maybe he just thinks it's fun.

You lied to me.

You lied to me.

You said you killed her.

You said you saw her.

I guess we're even.

You've got the vision, don't you?

Who am I talking to?

Who do you think you're talking to?

I want to show you something.

By all means.

1934, Dr. Eric Lorenz murdered a 16-year-old patient

who was complaining of swollen tonsils.
He said he heard voices.

1950, Dr. Kevin Deibolt raped
and murdered a 12-year-old patient

while her mother and two brothers sat
in the waiting room-- he said he heard a voice.

Interesting.

In 1960, Dr. Peter Seanery raped
and murdered a 13-year-old

at a public health clinic in Detroit.

There's another one in 1977. You killed her in '91.

Seems like every 15 years or so,
someone hears a voice and a young girl dies.

Have any hungers, ma'am?

I'll let you in on a secret.

When you die, they don't go away.

You saw us in a dream, right?

Me and the girl?

I've heard about the likes of you.

You see souls, don't you?

You got the vision.

Where is she?

How can you know so much and know so little?

You're obviously extraordinarily sensitive.

Most people aren't sensitive at all.

Then some people are a little sensitive.

They certainly don't see the dead.

Don't even hear 'em.

They just feel something strange once in a while,

hear a really distant voice telling them what to do.

"Don't make that right turn-- that's not the way to Grandma's."

"Don't answer the phone call-- it's bad news."

"Don't marry that man-- he's no good for you."

When I find one like that--

a doctor...

a doctor-to-be...

Yeah. It takes 15 years.

First four or five, you're screaming just to be heard. Then...

they start listening for you.

Then you're all they hear.

Where is she?

It doesn't matter; no one's gonna kill her.

You have my word.

Cross my heart and hope to...

whatever.

Where is she!

I know what you're planning;
I know the date you plan on doing it; I will find her!

Mr. Beauchamp.

Allison Dubois.

I'm Ariel's mother.

I know, I'm 35 minutes late and
I know you're on your way out the door

and I'm sorry, but I didn't get
your message till almost 1:00.

I work for the District Attorney's Office
and I was interviewing a prisoner

and they don't let you take
your cell phone in with you.

But, actually, and I think this is germane
to the conversation,

I kind of guessed that you were going
to want to see me this afternoon,

so even though I didn't get your message
till I was an hour and a half outside of Yuma,

I've been rushing back the whole time.

So, if you need to reschedule, if you need to leave...

I completely understand.

No, I'm perfectly happy to stay. I just...

I can't imagine what you're going to say that's going
to change my point of view about the situation.

My daughter didn't cheat.

And I know you absolutely believe that,

and frankly, I'd like to believe that.

But there's simply no other explanation for what happened.

But there is.

She guessed.

I went through this with your husband, but...

No, I know, and I'm sorry that got so heated.

Nobody's filing any complaints.

Nobody's changing classes.

And I wouldn't even be here wasting your time
except the one thing that he didn't tell you,

that he probably should have,

is that...

on my side of the family--

my grandmother, me, Ariel--

we've just, we've always been good at guessing.

I know.

What parents won't do to make sure
their kids get good grades.

But in this case, it happens to be true.

I mean, your initials T.O.B.,
I'm guessing "O" stands for Oliver.

Good guessing, right?

I know, kind of a silly thing, but...

I've just always had it and Ariel has it, too.

Mrs. Dubois...

Dentist, tomorrow afternoon, right?

I didn't look through any of your books,
I swear.

The irony is...

it embarrasses her.

I mean, if you mention it to anybody,

she would die of mortification.

And I do need to sit down with her
and have a conversation

about the difference between being
asked a question in class

and giving a considered,
worked out answer and just...

guessing, and for that, I do apologize.

So I just wanted to stop by and tell you that

whatever decision you make, we can live with it,

because I know you'll make the right decision.

I know it.

Well, at least I'm pretty sure.

See? You'll still have time to make it to the car wash.

You can't just do that. You can't just tell me you
fixed it and not tell me how.

I didn't fix it. I just...

followed it through. I followed your
bad cop with my good cop.

You're patronizing me.

I just shifted the conversation from
"probabilities" to "possibilities."

The point is... our eldest daughter's
record remains blemish-free.

And there's still a chance that she can
learn to smoke pot at the college of her choice.

Come here.

Kiss me, will ya?

You think you could see your way clear
to climb over here and hold me...

tell me everything is going to be okay?

Why wouldn't everything be okay, hmm?

Why wouldn't everything be okay?

Day after tomorrow...

a young girl named Elisha is gonna die,

and I don't have a clue how to stop it.

Why don't you call the police?

I'm sorry.

I need your help.

...Bush in Washington.

Whatever it is that's gonna happen
I know it's gonna happen tomorrow, the 23rd.

The mother's on the phone with the doctor's office,

her daughter's sick, the medicine isn't working.

When her mother's on the phone,
does she mention the doctor's name?

No. She's in a hurry.

So the girl's hurt?

Not hurt. Sick, I think.

She's taking something. Her mother's
holding a prescription bottle.

Can you see anything?

"L-I-T-H."

Lithium?

Maybe. Does that help?

Well, Lithium is a drug they give to manic depressives.

Which means your girl is sick all right,
but not with the flu.

So maybe the doctor that the mother
called was a psychiatrist.

Which narrows down our search by a few thousand...

It's a long shot, but I might be able to track
the doctor through the prescription.

If you're a pharmacist handing lithium to a minor,
you might be inclined to remember...

Excuse me. It's my precinct.

Detective Scanlon.

A doctor?

A teenaged girl?

I'll be right there.

Seems like maybe your dream was a day off.

Anybody home?

What's cookin', good lookin'?

Takeout.

Where's your mommy?

Bathroom.

Go away.

This time the girl was 13.

I guess the doctor didn't have a scalpel

because he used a rusty pair of scissors
to cut her stomach open.

Then he used his bare hands to rip her apart.

Allison, it's not your fault.

Yeah, it was.

'Cause not only did I not save her,

I didn't have any of it right.

Her name wasn't Elisha.

Her name was Melissa James.

She wasn't white. She was African-American.

I had the wrong name, I had the wrong face,

I had the wrong damn date!

Allison, just because you didn't know exactly...

Joe, I didn't know anything.

It was all for nothing.

There's nobody left. There's nothing to learn.

Somebody called security, the guard rushed in.

He shot the doctor.

The girl was already dead.

And that monster is still out there, looking
for a new cipher, looking for a new helper.

You mean looking for a new victim.

The doctors he uses, they're victims, too,
aren't they?

You just told me that today a doctor-- a good man,
probably, before all this happened--

did a horrible thing and died a terrible death because-- why?

Because of some kind of a voice in his head.

I think you're right.

Thanks for pointing that out.
Another meaningless victim.

Well, what I'm trying to point out is,

where does all this leave that doctor from your dream?

I mean, if you think about it, he's the only victim that's still alive.

And he is a victim.

'Cause here's a man who's spending
the rest of his life in a mental institution

because he's convinced he's insane,

or evil,

when in fact all he really is,
if I understand you correctly,

is a little more... sensitive.

So, what are you going to do about him?

What do you want me to do about him?

Well, I should think at the very least,
you owe him an explanation.

You want me to drive out there again?

What makes you think that I won't find myself
sitting across from Walker for the third time?

I'm guessing Walker won't be there.

He's moved on.

He's done with Holloway.

And if I'm wrong, and Dr. Walker is there,

then you'll have the satisfaction of looking
him straight in the eye

and telling him to go...

Nice to see you again.

It's our fourth time actually.

Dr. McGrath told me that you've been
experiencing some "lost time" recently,

and that you didn't remember our last few encounters.

Mrs. Dubois, I am obviously a terribly ill man.

If I have done or said anything to offend you,

I am profoundly sorry.

It's all right.

I understand.

You really weren't yourself.

Which is what I came here to talk to you about.

You've all been very helpful.

This whole situation has been so hard.

I've been, um...

I don't want to....

Please don't...

I don't want...

- Elisha?
- Please don't...

Found me, eh?

Nice to see you.

I could do with a little adult company.

She's 14.

Her head's filled with awful music and the silliest ideas.

Get out of her head.

Not going to happen.

You're too late.

No, I don't think so.

In fact, I think I'm right on time.

She wasn't your next victim at all, was she?

She's your new apprentice.

Smart as a whip, too.

Going to make a wonderful physician
once we convince everybody

that she's fine and get her out of here.

Times have caught up with me, I'm afraid.

The types of girls I want to ravage...

they just don't go to male doctors anymore.

You know what they say:

adapt or die.

Or, in my case,

don't.

You don't understand.

I'm not going to let this happen.

No, you're the one who doesn't understand.

It's already happened.

Oh, I know she's strong.

She's fighting me...

but I have nothing but time.

And in the end, I'll win.

You don't get it, do you?

You only win because the people whose minds you seize

don't understand what's happening to them.

They live in fear and confusion.

But I will come here every day.

I will help Elisha understand that she's not going crazy.

I will teach her not to be in fear of you but to hate you,

to see you for what you really are--

a pathetic and evil soul

who has no place to go,

an interloper,

a parasite.

If you think she's fighting you now...

You may have all the time in the world,

but how much of it are you willing
to waste on a lost cause?

Because Elisha is lost to you.

I'll just find another one, you know.

Why, there are three or four potentials
that I'm monitoring right now.

But you can't have her.

You're going to leave her.

Do you understand?

Do you understand what I'm saying?!

Tell me!

Elisha?

I don't hear him.

I don't hear him at all.

I don't hear anything inside except...

me.