SPHYNX

BY NIA ASHBY
FADE IN:
INT. BLOCK OF FLATS - DAY

ANYA (23), a slim woman with shoulder length black hair, is

walking up the stairs of a block of flats. The stairwell is dingy.
A fluorescent spotlight flickers and sparks before returning to
its fully lit state as Anya walks past. She is unfazed.

She gives a sigh of relief once reaching the top of a fight of

stairs labelled ‘9’ by a rusting metal sign that had been poorly
screwed into the wall.

Anya passes by flat ‘9A’. The door is damaged, cracks visible

around it’s rusty door handle. She stops to observe the audible
shouts of a domestic dispute from inside, followed by a slammed
door. She is unfazed and continues. She passes three other
similarly unkept doors before stopping in front of her own.
Different from the others, it has been painted a soft pink whilst
also remaining significantly cleaner and well-kept. Anya has added
a hanging pot of flowers underneath the polished metal sign, ‘9E’.
The pot is filled with mustard yellow flowers.

INT. ANYA’S FLAT - DAY

Anya fumbles in her rucksack until she pulls out a set of keys and
enters the flat.

It is a studio flat, small but open. The walls are a soft creamy
white, decorated with neatly hung sketches of floor plans and
interior designs. There is minimal furniture other than a small
TV, a white sofa and a room separator that hides away her bedroom,
as well as a marble coffee table in-between her sofa and TV.

After hanging the rucksack on a coatrack next to the door, she

notices the window is open. Her face contorts from one of content
to confusion. She looks around the room skeptically whilst walking
over to close the window, and a small cluster of muddy paw prints
catches her eye on the carpet below.

Anya brushes a strand of hair behind her ear before following the
trail of marks to her sofa where she spots a cat. It is a sphinx
cat, and despite being curled up in a sleeping ball amongst the
pillows, the protruding bones are still visible underneath it’s
rolls of peach tinted skin. It is collarless, clearly malnourished
and unclean due to the various patches of dirt over it’s skin.

ANYA
Um?…

Anya glances to the window and back to the cat, which has since
opened it’s eyes and is now staring directly at Anya. She gives a
small sigh and sits next to it, raising an eyebrow at it’s lack of
collar.

2 of 9
 ANYA
You know this isn’t your
house right? Or d’you not
even have a home?

She attempts to brush her fingers over it’s head but it flinches
before pushing it’s head into her hand. She gives a slight look of
disgust as her fingers run down it’s spine, feeling the many
protruding bones along it’s back.

After pulling her hand away, she glances to the kitchen area for a
few moments in thought, back to the cat, and then back to the
kitchen once again before standing and making her way over.

The kitchen is small, complete with only a few marble worktop

spaces, a cooker, sink and fridge-freezer. Utensils such as pans,
ladles and a microwave decorate the worktops neatly. It is clear
there is a lot of effort put into keeping the flat tidy.

Anya takes a plate out of a wall cupboard and places it on the

white marble breakfast bar that separates the kitchen and the
living-room. The cat keeps it’s stare locked on Anya. Occasionally
she catches the gaze, trying to avoid getting caught up in it’s
hypnotising eyes.
She now has prepared a plate of fresh salmon for the cat which is
placed upon the breakfast bar. Anya proceeds to throw the empty
pack of salmon in the bin though jumps slightly when turning back
around to see the cat sat silently on the breakfast bar, next to
the food. It however, shows little interest in eating it.

ANYA
Go on, eat it then?

Anya sighs slightly however the cat still refuses to touch the
food, it’s stare occasionally drifting to the salmon and back to
Anya.

ANYA
What? You one of those ones
that doesn’t eat unless
someone else is eating?

Anya sighs yet again and quickly throws two slices of bread down
from her cupboard onto the counter, finishing the thrown together
meal off by spreading jam on the two slices and putting them
together on a separate plate. Now propped up on the worktop, Anya
takes a bite out of the sandwich, head nodding towards the salmon.
Her mouth is full of bread as she spoke to the cat again.

3 of 9
 ANYA
See, my food isn’t
poisoned…

Continuing the stubborn front, the cat glances at the sandwich

with it’s nose up in a snub fashion, then back to Anya.

ANYA
Come on… You’re skinny
enough as it is, just eat.

There is a few long moments of silence, as if Anya is expecting a

reply from the cat. Though she breaks the silence by swallowing
and dropping the sandwich back on the plate, pushing it away.

ANYA
Fine. I’m not eating until
you do.

The long moments of silence continue to pass as they keep their

stares locked on each other.

INT. ANYA’S BATHROOM - DAY (DUSK)

Anya is running a bath for herself. She is wearing a baby pink

towel. The bathroom is filled with neatly placed, white marble
objects such as soap dispensers, toothbrush holders and a worktop
that holds the white sink. Her bathtub and toilet are an identical
ceramic white.

The cat slips in through the slightly open door, making Anya jump
once again as she turned around to retrieve the bottles of shampoo
from the cupboard.

ANYA
Stop doing that, oh my god…

She rolls her eyes and continues to place the bottles around the
bathtub. Though before she gets a chance to drop her towel, her
reflection catches her eye in the floor length mirror opposite the
bath. Staring at herself for a few moments, she glances down at
the cat, that is now perched on the sink edge next to her in the
reflection. Her expression drops and she observes her bare skin in
the mirror.

She lightly runs a hand up her arm, fingers pinching some of the
skin back so her elbow bone would protrude. She lets go and turns
with her back to the mirror, observing the reflection. Her back
arches and she grazes her fingers over the barely visible spine,
then glances longingly at the cat’s effortlessly protruding bones
with a sigh.
4 of 9
Anya snaps herself out of the moment and drops the towel, getting
into the bath.

INT. ANYA’S LIVING ROOM - DAY (MORNING)

Anya emerges from behind the room separator, clothed in the

oversized shirt, her hair a mess and eyes completed with bags,
signifying lack of sleep.

The cat is already awake and watching her from the breakfast bar
as she absentmindedly fished through her kitchen for a teabag and
cup. She set the kettle to boil and went to the fridge, about to
grab out a carton of milk before catching the stare of the cat who
had climbed up onto the nearest worktop to the fridge.

She glanced drowsily at the milk and back to the cat, now biting
her lip as she contemplated, but eventually closed the fridge,
leaving the milk inside. The cat begins to purr as it watches her
make her tea black as opposed to with milk.

INT. ANYA’S LIVING ROOM - MID-DAY

Anya is sat at her sofa, still clothed in the oversized shirt. She
has bags around her eyes.

She is surrounded by pieces of paper, notes and sketches of floor

plans. There is a small cluster of open binders on the coffee
table. She is making notes in a book.

The cat is sleeping upon the breakfast bar which is still littered
with the now moulding sandwich, dried up salmon and Anya’s empty
cup of tea.

Anya gives a wide yawn and puts down the book. There is a few
moments of silence as she observes the work scattered around her
before it is broken by the loud alarm of her stomach rumbling,
which makes her jump.

Anya glances up to the kitchen, though her attention is taken away

from the fridge to the cat. It is now sitting upright on the
breakfast bar, staring directly back at her.

Sighing, she walks into the kitchen, though rather than going to
get food, she instead runs the water in the sink until is is
filled nearly to the top.

ANYA
Forgot you were still
filthy. Come on…

The cat quickly makes its way into the warm water.
5 of 9
Anya cups the water in her hands and lets it fall over the cat’s
back, gently scrubbing at the patches of dirt with a cloth. Her
hand runs down it’s spine and it purr’s loudly at her touch.
Though rather than cringing at it’s protruding bones, she gives a
soft smile.

Her focus switches from the cat, to her wrist. She stares at it
for a few long seconds before lightly touching the protruding bone
of her wrist. Her smile grows slightly and she is too focused on
her arm to care about the continued sounds of her stomach calling
out for food.

INT. ANYA’S FLAT - DAY (THREE WEEKS LATER)

Anya is frail and clearly malnourished. She is wearing a loose

tank top and P.J shorts that show off her protruding spine and
thin legs. She is putting packets of food from a cupboard into a
bin bag.

In the kitchen, all of the cupboards are open and have been
emptied into two other bin bags which are tied up and sitting by
the front door. The sink is still filled with the dirtied water.

The cat is perched in it’s usual spot on the breakfast bar,

watching her do so. It is surrounded by stacked plates of moulding
food. The sandwich and salmon still sit in the same place as they
did three weeks ago.

Anya threw the last full packet of pasta into the bag and tied it
up, throwing it down by the two other bags. She is out of breath
as she turns to face the cat.

ANYA
Happy now?

It continues to stare at her blankly, it’s nose slightly up in a

snub fashion.

ANYA
Ugh. Fine, I’ll fucking
take them out!

Before she could grab the three bags, the mobile phone on her sofa
rings. The living room is darkened from the drawn curtains. It is
messy, paper and mugs of empty tea are scattered around. A few
cushions along with a few sections of the sofa have been scratched
at by the cat.

Though, she doesn't respond to it. The lock screen is still lit
after the ringing stops, showing the many messages from different

6 of 9
contacts including her mother are displayed along with a number of
missed calls.

She instead picks up the three bags full of food, struggling at

first to lift them with her stick-like limbs.

INT. BLOCK OF FLATS - DAY

Anya pushes the front door open with her back, bin bags in both
hands, and walks out into the dingy hallway.

There is a pile of post on her doorstep that she steps over, not
taking any notice of it. The flowers on the front of her door have
shrivelled up and adopted a dirty brown hue; the pink colour of
the door has faded.

She struggles with the bags, nearly dropping them both a few times
as she hauls them down the flights of stairs.

When she reaches the bottom floor, she has to adjust her eyes to
the sunlight that shone through the front door. She exits the
building and drags the bags to a larger bin. Though, she is too
frail to lift them in.

A woman (51) exits the building. She is a slightly overweight but

strong looking woman with rollers in her hair and a large flowery
dress.

NEIGHBOUR
Anya! How you been hunny?
Haven’t seen you around in
a while? Oh god, look at
you, give me those.

She takes the bags from Anya, helping to throw them in the bin
with ease.

NEIGHBOUR
No way you’re getting those
bloody things in there with
those arms now are you?

She frowns slightly and mothers Anya, placing a hand to her

forehead. Anya flinches and pulls away.

NEIGHBOUR
Feeling under the weather
my love? Whats so important
to be thrown out that you
gotta come out when ill hm?

7 of 9
Turning her head away, Anya shrugs. She tries to hide a smile at
the woman’s comments on her frail form as she rubs at her boney
arms.

NEIGHBOUR
Want me to make you a warm
bowl of soup my lovely?

The woman holds open the door back inside for Anya. Anya responds
by shoving past the woman and quickly making her way back up the
stairs.

ANYA
Fuck off with your soup,
ignorant bitch…

The woman is left stunned.

Anya is running up the stairs. Each floor she reaches, she’s

getting significantly more out of breath. She is struggling on the
last flight of stairs to floor ‘9’.

She walks sluggishly to her door, pushing it open and giving a

deep sigh upon spotting the cat watching her from the breakfast
bar.

ANYA
What the fuck do you want
from me? Why can’t you just
let me fucking eat!

Anya has tears in her eyes, she is angry and upset. After huffing
loudly, she walks past the cat and walks behind the room
separator. It has been scratched up by the cat but still hides
away the dingy and closed off bedroom. There is an unmade double
bed, a cupboard and set of draws, and a floor length mirror.
Around her walls are sketches of sphinx cats and the mirror is
decorated with images printed off of sphinx cats. There is a few
clumps of her hair that had fallen out around the bedroom.

She looks in the mirror, tears streaming down her face. She
analyses her body by rubbing her elbow bone, sucking in her waist
until it looked deathly unnatural.

Anya relaxes her waist with a big sigh. She stares at herself for
a moment before picking off a photo of a sphinx cat from around
the mirror and looking between it and her reflection.

8 of 9
 ANYA
(crying)
What the fuck is wrong with
me… Why can’t I just look
like I want to?

A few moments pass as if she is expecting a response from her

reflection. Though, she turns around and shoves past the room
separator, nearly knocking it over. She winces at the pain of it
on her shoulder

She is desperately looking around for the cat. It’s not in the
room.

ANYA
N-No…

Anya is frantically looking around. She is throwing pillows off of

the sofa, looking through the empty cupboards in the kitchen and
scanning the breakfast bar littered with moulding food.

She is sobbing.

She is silenced after noticing the wind is now blowing the

curtains around the window that was unopened before.

COPYRIGHT OF N ASHBY
Anya runs to the window and opens the curtain. It allows light to
flood the studio flat, revealing just how much of a mess it is.
There is a lot more scratches over her furniture and carpet from
the cat, and the place generally looks very unkept.

ANYA
Fuck!

Almost her entire body is hanging from the window. Some of the
hair blown about by the light wind has messily stuck to her face
due to the tears.

Realisation fills her face and she continues to sob, slinking back
inside and falling into a curled up sitting position below the
window, her back to the wall.

Her phone continues to light up with a somewhat constant inflow of

messages, mostly from her mother. However, she is paying no
attention to it, like white noise. She is mumbling to herself.

ANYA
I can’t be alone, I can’t
survive without you…

Her arms wrap around her frail body.

9 of 9 FADE OUT.