The Disappeared aka Guardian Angels

PAST: PREMIERE

When the film begins she has no idea what she is about to see. Nor does she realise what devastating consequences this film and the decisions she then makes will have on the rest of her life.

She has placed the projector on the coffee table, and the film is showing on a screen which she hastily dug out of the storeroom and set up in the middle of the floor. To get the angle right, she has propped the projector up on a book: Ira Levin’s A Kiss Before Dying. A friend gave it to her for Christmas, and she hasn’t yet plucked up the courage to read it.

The sound of the projector as it feeds the film through sounds like hail tapping against a window pane. The room is in darkness and she is alone in the house. She can’t explain why she was curious about the film right from the start. Perhaps it’s because she can’t remember having seen it before. Or because she feels there is a reason why it has been kept hidden from her.

The first frame shows a room; she is sure it looks familiar. The picture is gloomy, the focus slightly blurred. Someone has covered all the windows with sheets, but the daylight still finds its way in. There are a lot of windows; they seem to go all the way up to the ceiling. The film continues, the picture grows sharper. A door opens and a young woman appears. She hesitates in the doorway; she seems to be saying something. She looks towards the camera with a tentative smile. The picture bobs up and down and it becomes obvious that the camera is not fixed to a tripod; someone is holding it.

The woman walks into the room and closes the door behind her.

When she sees the door closing she realises where the film was made: in the summerhouse in her parents’ garden. Without knowing why, she suddenly feels afraid. She wants to switch off the projector, but cannot bring herself to do it.

The door of the summerhouse opens once more and a masked man walks in. He has an axe in his hand. When the young woman sees him, she cries out and begins to back away. She bumps into one of the sheets and the man grabs hold of her to stop her from falling through the window and into the garden. He pulls her towards the middle of the room; the camera is shaking slightly.

The scenes which follow are difficult to comprehend. The man swings his axe at the woman’s chest. Once, twice. Then at her head. He switches to a knife and – oh, God – soon she lies dead on the floor. One, two, three seconds elapse, and the film is over. The projector rattles impatiently, waiting for her to switch it off and rewind the film.

She is incapable of doing anything. She gazes blankly at the screen. What has she just seen? Eventually, she switches off the projector with stiff fingers. Rewinds the film. Runs it again. And again.

She isn’t certain that it’s real, but that doesn’t actually matter. The content is disgusting, and the second time she watches the film she recognises the man in the mask. When was it made? Who is the young woman? And where were her parents when someone took over their summerhouse, covered all the windows and made a violent film inside it?

It is evening before she decides what to do. There are still more questions than answers, but that doesn’t affect her ability to act. By the time he puts his key in the door and calls out ‘Hi darling!’ she has already made up her mind.

She will never be anyone’s darling again.

And her child will never have a father.