Therapy with the Devil (English version)
A Psychotic Comedy in One Act (Set in New York City)
by Benjamin Gavarre
Esta obra está bajo la licencia Creative Commons Atribución-NoComercial-SinDerivadas 4.0 Internacional.
Monica is on the verge of a chronic breakdown. After a series of absurd events orchestrated by her neurotic and toxic family, she ends up alone on the streets, vulnerable and desperate. It is in this urban abyss that an elegant seducer of souls named Meph offers her the deal of a lifetime: absolute knowledge and magnetic charisma in exchange for her obedience. What begins as a biting satire on modern anxiety, hipster esotericism, and family hypocrisy soon transforms into a psychological thriller with no escape. Therapy with the Devil is a dark comedy that masterfully plays with the audience's expectations, drawing out bursts of laughter only to freeze them in a chilling descent into the true contemporary hell.
Characters: MIA (her real name is Mary): 20s. A college
student on the verge of a chronic breakdown. Survives strictly on sarcasm and
anxiety.
UNCLE LEO: 60s. An old-school Woodstock holdover living in deep
Brooklyn. Selfish, paranoid, and aggressively lazy.
AUNT GRACE: 70s. Bitter, dramatic, living in a cramped Queens
apartment.
MEPH: Age unplaceable. Charismatic, impeccably tailored. A soul seducer with
an expensive vibe.
DR. THORNE (Psychiatrist): 40s. Professional, calm. A perfect bedside manner
that hides a blood-chilling stillness.
(SCENE 1 STARTS)
Setting: Dr. Thorne’s office. It is minimalist and pristine. MIA is sitting in a
chair across from the doctor’s desk. We join them mid-session.
DR. THORNE ...so, the panic attack was triggered by the visit to
your uncle.
MIA It
wasn't a "panic attack," doctor. It was a prophecy. He always knows
when something bad is about to happen. The last time he told me, "Careful,
the wind smells like tragedy," the subway flooded out of nowhere and the
grid collapsed.
DR. THORNE (Typing on his tablet) I see. And yet he sent you
into the city anyway. On a "dangerous adventure"?
MIA
He sent me out as cannon fodder. And his grocery list looked like the inventory
of a medieval warlock.
(The lighting shifts. The office fades and we
flashback to UNCLE LEO’s kitchen. It’s a chaotic mess of dying plants, mason
jars, and old blenders.)
UNCLE LEO (Handing her a rough canvas tote bag, speaking a mile a minute) Write
this down, Mia. Mandrake root—the real stuff, not the garbage they sell on the
corner. Unrefined sea salt, asafoetida powder, and aspirin... but make sure
it’s not imported. The shadow government poisons the foreign ones to numb our
willpower.
MIA (Raising
an eyebrow, incredulous) Uncle Leo, it’s five in the afternoon. People are
losing their minds out there, rush hour traffic is hell, everyone wants to kill
you or run you over, and I’m a woman traveling alone… Why don’t you just go
tomorrow morning?
UNCLE LEO Are you crazy? The city air is infested with miasmas and curses! Men in
gray suits who steal your aura with their death stares. Listen, a piece of
advice... If it gets dark... stay the night at your Aunt Grace's place. Bang on
the door or yell, because she never wants to open it.
MIA
(Horrified) I am not staying with Grace! I’d rather sleep spooning a stray dog.
UNCLE LEO Be careful out there. The city is crawling with energy thieves. They
can steal your honor... and your cellular data.
MIA (Rolling
her eyes) Yeah, Uncle Leo. I’ll make sure nobody steals my virginity or my
spirit. I’m leaving before you ask me for brimstone for your sores.
UNCLE LEO Not brimstone... that attracts demons. Hurry, hurry, the moon is about
to rise and I need to get into the fetal position!
MIA
Yeah, and I'll just go screw myself. Break a leg, Uncle.
(Mia exits. The flashback fades and we snap back to
the office.)
MIA
...and obviously, it got dark.
DR. THORNE And you had no choice but to seek refuge with your
aunt.
MIA
"Refuge" is a very noble word, doctor. It was like sticking my hand
into a pit of vipers... vipers that judge you for your weight and your poor
life choices.
(Light shifts. Flashback. MIA, exhausted, rings the
doorbell of a gloomy apartment. She sighs).
MIA
(To herself) Okay, Mia. Inhale, exhale. It’s just one night. Aunt Grace is a
wicked bitch, but it’s just one night, she can’t do that much damage in one
night.
(AUNT GRACE opens the door. She’s in a housecoat,
wearing a sour expression.)
AUNT GRACE Well, well. Look what the tide brought in.
MIA
Hi, Aunt Grace. Uncle Leo sent me...
AUNT GRACE Don't give me your tall tales, you tramp! Did you
think you could just show up here unannounced? I bet you fought with my brother
again, as usual! Incestuous!
MIA
What?! Tramp? Incestuous? Aunt Grace, please, what are you talking about? I
just need a place to crash.
AUNT GRACE Oh, "crash"! Sure! That's what you like,
roaming the streets, just waiting to get knocked up, you hussy! People have
been telling me how you throw yourself at my innocent brother! Jezebel!
MIA
Don't talk to me like that! You're sick!
AUNT GRACE The only sick one here is you! Get out of here, you
harlot, you two-dollar strumpet! Go find a bridge to sleep under! Go see who
picks you up! Don't you dare waste any more of my time, my true crime show is
starting!
(AUNT GRACE snatches the grocery bags from Mia and
slams the door in her face. Back to the office. Mia’s eyes are watery.)
MIA
...and I was left on the street. Alone, broke, freezing my ass off, with my
dignity trampled by insults I didn't even know existed.
(SCENE 2)
DR. THORNE That was a profoundly traumatic episode. The scorn of
one's own blood is the sharpest knife to the human soul.
MIA
Knife is an understatement. I was ready to just lay down and die right there. I
went to a concrete park bench to cry it out.
DR. THORNE The concrete park?
MIA
Yeah. That’s where I made the biggest mistake of my life.
(Lights go down. A blue spotlight hits MIA sitting on
the "bench". Dr. Thorne speaks from the shadows).
DR. THORNE (V.O.) How did he approach you?
MIA Out
of nowhere. I was an absolute wreck, and this guy just sits next to me.
Flawless. A black suit cut like nothing you'd find in a store, shoes shined
like mirrors. He smelled like expensive tobacco and ancient promises.
(MEPH appears. He sits down, crossing his leg with
lazy elegance.)
MEPH
Bad night for vanity, huh? I see your destiny is in absolute ruins.
MIA
(Sniffling) Excuse me? Do I know you?
MEPH Not
yet, but you're about to seal the pact of your existence. I’m Meph. Shaper of
destinies, architect of earthly glories. I’ve observed your misery and,
frankly, your spirit is pathetic.
MIA
Look, mister, I am not in the mood for some hustler to try and sell me magic
supplements.
MEPH Magic
supplements? Please. I don’t offer cheap miracles, I offer absolute glory. A
direct ascent to the top of the world. Imagine: the exact words to humiliate
that aunt of yours. The charm to make the whole city worship at your feet.
Enough gold so you never have to be cold again.
MIA
(Sarcastic, raising an eyebrow) Uh-huh. And in exchange for what? I give you my
soul?
MEPH
(Smiles slowly, eyes gleaming) The soul is just the entry fee, darling. A
collateral to ensure your loyalty.
MIA Right.
And what’s next? Do I sign a parchment in my own blood?
MEPH
Blood is in incredibly poor taste! It makes such a mess. This is an agreement
of wills, a gentleman's pact. You just accept the terms of my protection. Oh,
and we’ll change your name. "Mia" lacks mystery. We’ll
call you, simply... "M."
MIA
Give up my name for... ambition? What asylum did you escape from?
MEPH (His
voice drops, losing the seductive tone. The air feels heavy) Don’t get it
twisted. You were the one who called. You cried on this bench begging the
heavens, the universe, the void for mercy. And heaven is famous for its dead
silence. I actually listen to the desperate. Do we have a deal or do I leave
you here to freeze to death?
(Mia looks at him. She shivers, swallowing hard).
MIA
...I accept.
MEPH (Claps
softly, triumphant) Exquisite decision! By the way, the pact includes a minor
carnal obligation. You’ll be sharing my bed.
MIA
What?! You didn't mention that!
MEPH
Tributes of the flesh, sweetheart. Welcome to eternity... M.
(Meph snaps his fingers. A gust of wind. We snap back
to the bright light of the office).
DR. THORNE M.
MIA
(Blinking, snapping back to reality) What?
DR. THORNE You said he christened you M. Why not Mary, which is
your given name?
MIA Because
pronouncing "Mary" made him nauseous. He was allergic to anything
that sounded like purity or redemption.
DR. THORNE (Writing slowly) Allergic to redemption. Fascinating.
(SCENE 3)
MIA
And the worst part, doctor, is that his damn magic worked. Overnight I wasn't
just brilliant... I was omniscient. Meph downloaded an entire library into my
brain.
DR. THORNE (Writing in his notebook, not looking at her)
Absolute knowledge. Most human beings would pay any price for that.
MIA Because
they don't know what it is! Look at me, doctor. Just by seeing the asymmetry in
the knot of your tie and the slight dilation of your pupils, I could recite a
treatise on Lacanian psychoanalysis, cross-reference it with quantum physics,
and end by quoting Baudelaire in old French to explain to you exactly why you
are unhappy. I know everything. The entire universe reduced to a cheap parlor
trick.
DR. THORNE (Looks up slowly, unbothered) Sounds like you became
an extraordinarily fascinating woman.
MIA
I became an exotic animal. His show pony.
(The lighting in the office shifts subtly. A blue
spotlight isolates Mia in her chair. From the shadows, MEPH emerges, pacing
slowly behind her with the elegance of a predator. Mia keeps speaking to
Thorne, but is trapped in the memory.)
MIA
I paraded through luxury galas, gallery openings, ambassador dinners. I was his
ventriloquist dummy. He pulled the strings and I vomited philosophy and charm
tailored to whoever the victim of the night was.
MEPH (Stopping
right behind her, whispering in her ear while caressing the back of her chair)
Straighten your back, M. The culture minister is staring at you. When he walks
over, I want you to destroy his latest essay on postmodernism. Humiliate him.
Make him question his own existence, but with a smile so perfect it leaves him
begging for more.
MIA (Speaking
forward, through gritted teeth, not looking at Meph) I'm tired, Meph. I haven't
slept in three weeks. My feet are bleeding from these heels and I'm disgusted
hearing my own voice recite things I don't even care about.
MEPH (Strokes
her shoulder, possessive and cold) Exhaustion is for mortals who take the
subway, darling. You are a high-yield investment. And tonight, after you dazzle
these idiots in suits, we’re going up to the penthouse. You know the contract
requires... physical maintenance. The tribute of the flesh doesn't pay itself.
(Meph’s presence steps back into the shadows. We
return fully to the office dynamic.)
MIA It
was trafficking, doctor! Soul trafficking, human trafficking, call it whatever
you want. Absolute slavery perfumed with champagne and designer suits. My body
and mind were hijacked. I felt intellectually violated every time he forced me
to speak his words.
DR. THORNE A total loss of personal agency. The annulment of the
"self". And yet, you endured it for quite some time.
MIA (Furious,
clenching her fists) Seven years! Seven years of being his high-end escort, his
walking encyclopedia, and his bed trophy. Putting up with his demands, his
suffocating ego, and his snoring—because yes, the damn demon of elegance snores
like a busted engine. Until one day, I just couldn't take it anymore. I felt
like if he forced me to quote Schopenhauer one more time to please his banker
friends, I was going to rip my own skin off in strips.
(The light focuses back on Meph and Mia. Meph
approaches, holding two invisible crystal glasses.)
MEPH
Go on, M. Out to the terrace. There are a couple of senators who need you to
explain why Judeo-Christian morality is an obstacle to the free market. Go make
them fall in love with you. You're my masterpiece.
MIA
(Stands up abruptly, facing Meph for the first time) No. The show is over.
MEPH (Smiles,
condescending, taking a sip from his invisible glass) Oh, honey. The puppets
don't get to decide when the curtain drops. Walk.
MIA
I am not your hellish escort! You sold me the seven liberal arts, you promised
me control over my life, and you just use me as an ornament for your egomaniac
frat parties. I'm done! I'm sick of being your slave, sick of your voice in my
head, and I'm sick of you!
MEPH (The
seductive tone vanishes entirely; his voice becomes deep, threatening) Keep
your voice down, human. You are my property. You signed with your desperation
and you pay with your obedience. If I tell you to dance, you dance. If I tell
you to speak, you speak. You have no will of your own.
MIA
(Defiant, inches from Meph's face, spitting the words) Then take me to court,
you astral pimp. Because starting today, you don't have a doll anymore.
(Mia turns back forward, turning her back on Meph. The
office light tries to return, but the atmosphere is stained a dark, dense red.
Mia stares intently at Dr. Thorne.)
MIA
That was it, doctor. I realized that arguing with the employee of the month
wasn't going to terminate the contract. I decided to go over his head. I
summoned upper management. The owner of the circus.
(Mia looks up at the ceiling of the office, raising
her arms, screaming with a mix of madness and absolute desperation.)
MIA (AS MEMORY) No more middlemen! I want to speak to the King of
Shadows! Let the Master himself show his face! I want to cancel this damn
subscription!
MEPH
(Seized by panic and profound indignation, grabbing her arm) What are you
doing, you lunatic?! Trying to jump the chain of command to speak to the Devil
himself is incredibly poor taste. I am your owner, you answer to me!
MIA (Yanking
her arm free violently) I called for the best! And I don't want to be your
slave anymore! I renounce the deal, I don't want deals with you or with the
Virgin Mary!
(At the words "Virgin Mary", MEPH shudders
as if struck by lightning. He drops to his knees, writhing.)
MEPH
What... what did you say? Don't say that!
MIA
(Realizing the power she just discovered) The Virgin Mary! MARY, MARY, MARY!
That is my real name, you piece of scum!
MEPH (Backing
away, in agony, crawling while his flawless suit begins to smoke and smell like
burning flesh) You broke the name clause! That damn name burns my insides!
(Meph vanishes amidst a guttural shriek and a thick
cloud of smoke. Mia remains standing, breathing heavily. The red light vanishes
instantly, reverting to the unforgiving, white coldness of Dr. Thorne’s office.
Mia collapses into her chair, exhausted, but with a half-smile of triumph.)
(END OF SCENE 3)
(SCENE 4 - THE END)
MIA (Still
breathing heavily, but sporting a smile of genuine victory. She settles into
the chair, relaxing her shoulders for the first time in the entire play) And
that was it. Up in smoke. I banished him myself, doctor. Turns out the great
and terrifying demon couldn't stand to hear my real name. I realized that my
will is mine. I don't have to answer to any monster in a tailored suit, or to
any bitter aunt, or to my uncle. I am free.
(DR. THORNE does not respond immediately. The only
sound in the office is the dry, ceaseless scratching of his pen on paper. The
white, clinical light of the room seems to grow slightly colder, almost
antiseptic).
DR. THORNE (Without looking up from his notes, his voice a
perfectly modulated whisper) "Free." A fascinating word.
Etymologically complex, biologically improbable, and, from a psychiatric
standpoint... a charming illusion.
MIA (Her
smile fades slightly. She frowns) An illusion? Doctor, I just told you I broke
a demonic pact. I regained my agency. I'm going to study. Pure sciences.
Cellular biology, neurology. Something real, tangible. No more mysticism or
liberal arts.
DR. THORNE (Closes his notebook with a sharp snap that echoes
off the walls. He looks up. His face is a marble mask) A sensible choice.
Replacing one belief system with another. Trading magic for the microscope.
Quitting as a slave to hell to become a slave to academia. At the end of the
day, human beings are always looking for a more comfortable cage, don't you
agree, Mia?
MIA (Unsettled
by his tone, she tries to stand up from the chair, but a strange heaviness
makes her hesitate) I... I don't see it as a cage. It's knowledge. It's sanity.
You yourself told me I need to take control.
DR. THORNE And you have. It's an extraordinary clinical triumph.
Chasing away that... (he pauses, finding the exact word with millimeter
precision) that noisy charlatan Meph. He was always so theatrical. An errand
boy with delusions of grandeur.
(Mia freezes mid-motion. The silence becomes thick,
almost suffocating).
MIA
(Her voice trembling just a little) What did you call him?
DR. THORNE (Smiles, but his eyes remain completely dead and
fixed on her) A delusion of grandeur. A defense mechanism of your psyche to
cope with the trauma. Your mind created an elegant villain to justify your
submission. And today, you have defeated him.
MIA (Swallowing
hard, trying to convince herself she misheard) Yes. Yes, exactly. It was a
delusion. It was all in my head. I finally understand. I feel ready to go home
now, doctor.
(Mia tries to stand up again. This time she manages,
but her legs are strangely weak. She grabs her purse).
DR. THORNE Not so fast. We are missing the final step to
consolidate this... freedom. (The doctor slowly opens his desk drawer. The
scrape of the wood sounds deafening. He pulls out a small, dark glass bottle
with no label, and extracts a single red pill. He places it on the desk next to
a glass of water). You are going to take your medication. It's a new formula.
Specially designed for your case.
MIA (Staring
at the pill, the anxiety she thought was dead starts crawling up her throat.
She takes a step back) A new formula? But... I'm already fine. I cured myself.
I don't hear voices anymore. I don't want pills that cloud my mind.
DR. THORNE (His voice doesn't alter, remaining a straight line
of professional calm) Mia. You know how this works. Cutting off treatment
abruptly causes relapses. Do you want to go back to the park bench? Do you want
to feel empty again, at the mercy of charlatans dictating how you live? Take
it. I guarantee you, with this, your mind will be left in absolute, perfect
stillness.
(Mia looks at the pill. She looks at the office door.
It looks miles away. Thorne’s clinical logic clashes with Mia’s primitive
instinct, which is screaming at her to run).
MIA
And the side effects? No nightmares? No yellow-eyed demons?
DR. THORNE No demon will ever bother you again. You have my
word. Trust me, as you have for these past seven years.
(Mia, defeated by the ruthless authority of the white
coat and routine, steps up to the desk. Her fingers tremble. She takes the pill
and the glass. She puts it in her mouth and drinks the water. She swallows with
difficulty. Instantly, a sensation of absolute absolute cold washes down her
esophagus, paralyzing her peripheral muscles).
MIA
(Sets the glass on the desk. Her hands feel like lead) Done. It's done.
Doctor...
(Mia tries to walk toward the door, but her knees
won't respond. She drops heavily back into the patient's chair).
MIA
What... what is in this? I feel heavy. I can't stand up.
DR. THORNE (Stands up. His movements are agonizingly slow,
fluid, as if time doesn't exist for him. He rests both hands on the desk. The
light in the room begins to dim, leaving a single pale beam on Mia). It's
stillness, Mia. The true cure.
MIA (Panic
dilates her pupils. She looks into Thorne's eyes and realizes he hasn't blinked
a single time the entire session). You... You never told me your first name,
doctor. It's always just... Thorne. And how did you know Meph's name? I never
told you his name today. I only said "he".
DR. THORNE (Forms an icy smile. His shadow projects massive,
monstrous, creeping up the walls and covering the ceiling of the office) My
name is irrelevant. My earthly titles are... Thorne. Dr. Thorne. Surgeon,
specialist in psychiatry. But you know me by many other names.
MIA
(Her breathing turns shallow. She can't move her arms. She tries to scream, but
her voice comes out as a broken whisper) No, no, no... You're a psychiatrist.
You're a man of science.
DR. THORNE (His voice changes, losing the clinical tone and
acquiring a deep, archaic resonance, like the echo of an infinite cavern) Did
you honestly believe today's hell is a place with brimstone and boiling
cauldrons? Please. The twenty-first century requires more efficient methods.
Why buy souls at a crossroads when you can medicate them? Why use the cheap
seduction of a subordinate like Meph, when you can cancel people's willpower by
prescribing them "sanity"?
MIA (Crying
silently, paralyzed in the chair, comprehending the magnitude of her mistake)
I... I summoned the boss. On the roof...
DR. THORNE (Nods slowly, with a terrifying courtesy) Exactly.
"I want to speak to the King of Shadows!" you screamed. "Let the
Master himself show his face!". And here I am. I kept the appointment
punctually at our Tuesday six o'clock session. And you, on your own two feet,
just swallowed the permanence clause.
(The doctor walks around the desk and leans over her.
His eyes now shine with an unfathomable malice, an absolute blackness, devoid
of any empathy or theatricality. It is pure, corporate,
institutionalized evil).
DR. THORNE You thought that by defeating your astral pimp you
were free. But Meph was just the distraction. The true hell is this chair that
you will never, ever be able to stand up from. It is the certainty, the
terrifying certainty, that your brilliant mind is going to be trapped inside
your own skull, awake, conscious, but unable to articulate a single word for
the rest of eternity.
(Thorne raises a perfectly clean, manicured hand, and
gently tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. The touch is so cold that the tear
freezes on Mia's cheek).
MIA
(Eyes wide with absolute, mute terror, she opens her mouth to scream, but only
monosyllables escape, barely words). No, no... I...
DR. THORNE I don't buy souls with cheap talk, little one. I
medicate them. I put them to sleep forever. You are going to feel so much
better... Mary.
(The shadow of Dr. Thorne envelops her completely. The
doctor's smile freezes into a mask of absolute terror). (The light snaps off,
leaving only the echo of an icy sigh).
TOTAL BLACKOUT.
END
