INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT
NATE is in his late teens. He has a slim build, and he wears clothing two sizes too big. His hair is spiked, and the tips are frosted. Lying on his back, he stares up at the ceiling. His bed is six inches to his left, but Nate remains on the floor.
His eyes are closed, and he winces as an angry voice pushes its way through his floor. Nate rolls over onto his side, burying his face in his hands. The voice stops. Nate glances over to his door.
Climbing to his feet, Nate walks over to his desk. He picks up a baseball and tosses it into the air. He misses the catch when the yelling resumes. Nate watches the door as he stoops over and picks up the ball.
Something breaks downstairs. Nate throws the baseball at the far wall. It plants itself above his bed. A dozen baseball sized holes cover the wall.
The yelling stops. Nate listens as LUCAS stomps up the stairs. The footsteps stop, and Nate walks over to his window.
LUCAS (O.S.): You’d better stop putting holes in my fucking wall!
Nate climbs out the window then pokes his head back inside.
NATE: Sorry. It slipped again.
LUCAS (O.S.): Slipped my ass, you fucking butterfingered klutz.
EXT. NATE’S HOUSE – CONTINUOUS
Nate walks over to the edge of the roof and climbs down lattice work. He drops down in the garden. Stepping out, he dusts his feet off. He ducks the window and tiptoes up the front steps.
He presses up against the door and listens. The yelling has resumed, so Nate bangs on the door.
NATE: (in a deep voice) I’m going to file a noise complaint if you don’t cut it out.
The noise dies down. Nate grins and ducks down. He’s in front of the porch when he hears the door swing open. Nate stays down while he glances over his shoulder.
Lucas is standing in the doorway. He’s in his mid forties with a muscular build. His hair is shaved at the sides, and tatoos run down his arms.
LUCAS: You think you’re clever. Don’t ya?
Nate glances to the lattice then down the street. He shuts his eyes and straightens up. Opening them again, he turns to Lucas.
NATE: Well you did tell me to smarten up.
Nate jumps back when Lucas takes a step towards him. Nate steps on a thistle and jumps up, grabbing his foot. Lucas grins.
LUCAS: Maybe that’ll teach you to be a smart ass.
Nate drops his foot and tries to stand as tall as he can.
NATE: Leave my mom alone.
Lucas steps down off the stairs.
LUCAS: Or what?
Lucas steps up to Nate. His shoulders are at Nate’s eye level, and he pushes his chest up against Nate’s chin. Nate tries to straighten his posture, but he ends up stepping back an inch.
LUCAS (CONT’D): Lose the wind from your sails, punk?
Nate falls back. He hits his head off the ground and is winded for a beat. He recovers, but Lucas has him by the shirt.
LUCAS (CONT’D): This is for your own good, ya little bitch.
Lucas raises his other hand.
Lucas looks over his shoulder. KAREN is standing on the porch with a pistol trained on Lucas’ chest. Lucas grabs at his empty pocket then glances down at it. When he looks back up at Karen, he forces a smile.
LUCAS: Karen, don’t do something rash.
He raises his hands, dropping Nate. Nate scrambles to his feet, looking from Lucas to Karen.
KAREN: This is for his good, bitch.
BANG! BANG! Lucas grabs at his stomach. He looks up at Karen as he drops to his knees.
BANG! He falls to the ground. Karen drops the gun. It clatters down the stairs. Karen leans against a post, and Nate rushes up to her.
He hugs her, but Karen pushes him away as sirens sound in the distance. Nate looks at her. She points down the street.
KAREN: Go! Just leave.
Nate runs down the street. He glances back and sees Karen as she sits down on the steps
Nate turns back to the street and keeps running.
FADE TO BLACK.