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2
REPORT OF PSYCHOLOGICAL ASSESSMENT
Confidential Material
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NAME: Jane Doe
DATE OF BIRTH: 04/16/1988
CHRONOLOGICAL AGE: 15 years; 5 months.
BIOLOGICAL PARENTS: N/A
DATES OF ASSESSMENT: 02/07/2003; 02/03/2003
DATE OF REPORT: 02/09/2003
ABRIDGED TRANSCRIPT
Recording time: 07:20:10
Authors: Fatima al-Hurra
Transcribed by: Ahmed al-Hurra
Location: Mazzora Psychiatric Hospital
(Havana, Cuba)
(Mazzora is dirty. Urine and feces sprays the floors, and the building is vacant. A ghostly sense of abandonment captivates it, and blood stains the yellowing walls. The patient, the Jane Doe, sits in the corner. In a feral, primitive position. She dons a ripped nightgown. She grunts and snarls, whispering to herself. I enter and wait. She doesnʼt respond when called to).
DR. FATIMA AL-HURRA, PhD: Señorita, mi nombre es Fátima el Hurra. Soy una doctora. Ven aquí por favor. [Miss, my name is Fatima al-Hurra. I am a doctor. Come, please].
(She gnaws intently at something. Teeth feasting away. She is deep in concentration, unmoving unless it is to relax her jaw. Eating, gnawing).
DR. FATIMA AL-HURRA, PhD: Yo entiendo que su hijo murió recientemente. [I understand that your son has died recently].
(She tears now. Furious in her assault. Blood spills from her wrists, and she feasts. Clawing, ripping the flesh apart. This woman is eating herself, and the blood is thick as it spreads).
DR. FATIMA AL-HURRA, PhD: Robin!
(She stops. Cracks her neck once, then twice. She starts singing a Portuguese lullaby in Spanish).
JANE DOE: Duérmete niño, duérmete ya, que viene el coco, y te llevará. [Sleep little one, sleep already, or the coco will come and take you away].
DR. FATIMA AL-HURRA, PhD: También entiendo que culpar a Desdemona Prince por el muerte de su hijo. ¿Por qué? [I also understand that you blame Desdemona Prince for the death of your son. Why?]
JANE DOE: Duérmete niño, duérmete ya, que viene el coco, y te comerá. [Sleep little one, sleep already, or the coco will come and eat you up].
(She laughs. Itʼs maniacal laughter, a diabolical breed of laughter, and it has two tones. Like Buddhist monks throat singing. Dark and bloodthirsty. Let me the f*ck out of here, Desdemona).
JANE DOE: Porque ella robó el cuerpo de Cristo con una...Reina Santiago. Ella violada su cuerpo, doctora. [Because she stole the body of Christ with one...Reina Santiago. She r*ped his body, doctor].
JANE DOE (CONT'D): ¿Y ahora? Voy a violar tu cuerpo. [And now? Iʼm going to r*pe your body].
DR. FATIMA AL-HURRA, PhD: Get me the f*ck out of here, Desdemona.
(Her spine splits open – blood spurting out. The skin rips open, bone tugging and sewing at her guts. Her limbs bend, and break, and snap, and sear through the body of bone. She spasms, her body jerking against the brutal force, and as it does, her body expands. Her bones elongating. She convulses, spitting blood, and canines emerge. Claws, spreading. She's hungry. Really f*cking hungry).
DR. FATIMA AL-HURRA, PhD: DESDEMONA!
(There is an inverted cross. Spiders, exploding from the walls. The lights flickering. Robin screams. Shrill, shattering the glass. Her head spins, crunching the bone in her neck, so she faces me. So she can see me. Sheʼs a f*cking savage, a beast, and she clings to the wall. Like an insect. Her skin shedding. If you don't let me the f*ck out of here, Desdemona, I swear to God–)
DR. FATIMA AL-HURRA, PhD: LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!
(The blood swallows the walls. Complete annihilation of any-and-all life in the room. I see bodies, babiesʼ bodies, rolling from underneath the featherbed cot in the corner, and I see my death. A slow, sure death. Desdemona stares at me. Regal and detached. Beautiful and terrifying. Queenly. A primordial storm, eaten by Robinʼs blood).
JANE DOE (eating me): JANE DOE: Duérmete niño, duérmete ya, que viene el coco, y te llevará. [Sleep little one, sleep already, or the coco will come and take you away].
JANE DOE (devouring me): Duérmete niño, duérmete ya, que viene el coco, y te comerá. [Sleep little one, sleep already, or the coco will come and eat you up].
(She rips me apart).
DR. FATIMA AL-HURRA, PhD (screams): ¿Qué pasó con Virgilio, Robin? ¿Qué hizo usted a su hijo? [What happened to Virgil, Robin? What did you do to your son?]