The Mysterious Death of Nina Chereau

Oh, god!

No!

...her name was Nina.

She was my best friend

in the world.

When we... were in our

Joan of Arc phase,

we used to sit by the hour

in the cathedral St. John,

waiting to hear heavenly

voices.

Guess I was crazy

even then.

Did you hear voices?

No.

Then I guess you

weren't crazy.

Go on.

I was never happier

than those times

in the cathedral.

The candles everywhere.

Wax and incense heavy

in the air.

The murmur of old women

saying prayers.

It felt so comfortable.

So safe and secure.

Let's get to the dinner

party that night

at the Villa Capri.

Nina was there with you,

wasn't she?

Um, yes.

She was spending the night.

We had... um...

Helped prepare for an

important dinner party.

Laid the table.

Candlesticks with a white

lace tablecloth...

Best china, all black,

trimmed in gold...

Red crystal goblets...

Can't remember...

Can't you?

No.

The china

was very rare...

It was all black...

And the wine goblets were

very, very precious...

Red crystal...

Oh, please don't make me

go on...

Six months ago.

...i remember silver

candlesticks and black

china...

Go on.

And red goblets...

Yes.

I can't remember.

Three months ago.

There were black china

plates on a lace tablecloth.

Red wine goblets...

Two weeks ago.

We don't seem to be making

much progress, do we?

After seven months

of seeing you three times

a week, I still don't know

much more about you than

what's written in your file.

Normal childhood,

normal adolescence,

and then judged insane

and confined for life for

the murder of Nina Chereau.

It doesn't make sense.

Something is missing.

Don't you think I'm insane?

No, I don't.

Oh, but I killed

Nina Chereau!

Did you?

Oh, god!

I don't know.

But you can find out.

How?

By not being a coward

anymore.

By having the strength

and courage to confront

what happened that night...

I can't.

I can't.

You can, Ariel.

I know you can.

Why do you believe in me

when I don't even believe

in myself?

Because I believe in myself.

I'm a damned good doctor

and I expect you to be

a damned good patient.

Otherwise, I don't want

to play.

Okay?

What are you doing?

You and I are going

to play "let's pretend".

Let's pretend you are

back at the Villa Capri

that night.

This will be the table...

We'll pretend there's a lace

tablecloth.

These are the plates.

These are the goblets.

The candles are flick--

that's not right.

What?

That plate.

It's broken.

The plate's broken.

I was out of the room

getting flowers when

suddenly I heard a crash and...

When I came back inside,

Nina was standing

by the plate.

She was crying.

And Suzanne...

Suzanne?

My mother.

She hated growing old

and wanted people to think

we were sisters,

so she made me call her

Suzanne.

She suddenly appeared.

I don't know where she

came from.

She had a knife...

She's standing next

to Nina!

God, no!

No! No!

No... oh!

Oh, help me!

Help me, please!

I will, I swear I will.

It's time for your next

patient, doctor.

Thank you.

It's a little bit dark

in here.

Perhaps I should--

leave them.

It's how I want them.

Of course, doctor.

What do you think would

happen if you saw

your mother again?

She doesn't want to have

anything to do with me.

She's never written me,

she's never come to see me.

Don't you think that's

strange?

No, I'm supposed

to be crazy.

Supposed to be?

I think we're making

progress after all.

I hope my work has been

satisfactory.

It has been controversial,

to say the least.

Rarely have my colleagues

been so emotional as when

discussing your work.

Considering most of them

were dying of smug

complacency,

I take credit for

reminding them they're alive.

Does that include me?

I have never had any

doubts about your existence,

doctor Dumont.

I see where you have made

a recommendation to the

medical committee that

Ariel Dubois might be

ready for transfer

to a private clinic.

That's right.