LOST
(EXT. A clearing. BEN LINUS, barely standing, is tied to a tree. JOHN LOCKE paces behind him, holding a pistol. MY MOM sits nearby, leafing through a Pier 1 catalogue. She’s wearing a flower-print sun dress.)
LOCKE: Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you right now.
BEN: You’re not going to kill me because I have […]
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