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8 HOURS EARLIER
Napoleon, come.
Ugh, shit.
Fuck that.
Shit.
It's going to be a lot of fun, dude. Mr. Waggle.
Dad.
Dad, can I have the car keys? I'm going to work for a while.
- You mean, now? - Yes.
- What's going on? - I'm going to work for a while. Thanks.
- Those chickens again? - There are more than 300 breeds, Dad.
- Why don't you just sleep? - It's not that simple.
- No. - What?
There is nothing to worry about.
I'll just finish up quickly, so I can go on holiday with peace of mind. Okay, bye.
I told you. She needs to move out again.
Ni hao, this is Emma. Are you still open?
Ah, great. The Tau Sie Kai Lucky House with rice noodles, please.
Yes, very well. Thank you.
Chickens, chickens, chickens.
"Chickens are smarter than you think. Recent studies show that they..."
"The most common parasite is most often found around the cloaca."
Ew, gross.
Hey.
- Hi-dee-hi. - Hey, sweetheart.
It's great here. I've already spoken to talent scouts. Producers.
- I can feel it. - Wow, that's great.
- Why aren't you in bed? - Deadline.
Editing is 24/7. Plus: sleep is overrated.
You're working too hard.
What book is so important that it keeps you there instead of here with me?
And don't you dare say that chicken encyclopedia.
No, man. Are you crazy? No, I'm working on...
The Sky Falls by Marten Polak. Here, our star author.
- Jesus, what a depressing title. - Babe, I've got to go.
Make sure you're on time tomorrow, because I can't do this without you.
Yes, sure. I will. Love you, okay?
Love you too.
The Tau Sie Kai Lucky House, with noodles.
- That's me. Yummy. Have a nice evening. - You too.
The Sky Falls.
What a load of rubbish.
Right.
Well, the sky is falling, starting with the title.
It starts with a disaster.
Totally random. Very hard to follow.
And the ending is very abrupt.
Emma?
- Emma? - Oh, yeah.
- Hey. - Hey, did you stay up all night?
- Good morning. - What have you done?
Yes, I spotted a few more things.
But Polak is not yours.
Leo said it needs no further editing.
- Just a good cover. - Yes, I know. But not quite.
And now we can still do something about it.
What?
Stop that book.
Good morning.
Hey. Weren't you supposed to be on vacation?
Almost. Really looking forward to it. Leo?
- Has anyone seen The Sky Falls? - Yes.
It can't go to print like this. I read it twice last night.
- All 548 pages? - Yes, and it is...
- Vague? Hard to follow? Pretentious? - Yes. All of the above.
By the first chapter, you've already lost the main character. He does nothing.
I thought the only thing left was to pick the cover color.
Azure or indigo...
You should go with indigo anyway. That's just a nicer color.
But it's weird to choose a cover color
- when the book itself is colorless. - That's not up to you.
He's one of our flagship authors.
You'll end up with an unreadable flagship.
With people thinking, "What the hell is he saying?"
What are you actually doing here? You're off work, aren't you?
Off work? What for?
- What you need is a vacation. - A vacation?
So, Leo. About the chicken encyclopedia.
I just need to cover the Danish Land Fowl and the Tournai Bantam...
Emma, go on vacation.
All right. Whatever...
Are you okay?
What? Yes. I'm doing really well.
- And you? - Yeah, okay.
- Do you want a hug? - Oh, well...
Thank you.
We'll see each other again in a few weeks.
Completely recharged. Yay!
Hey babe, how are you getting on? I'll see you in a minute, right?
Yeah, shit.
Hey, baby!
Yeah, so I won't actually be able to come.
No, it's a crisis situation here.
Terrible book, author's upset. So...
So actually I really cannot leave here right now.
Yeah, okay. Love you.
Hey.
Come on.
Okay.
These are happy tears.
Oh, come on.
Sorry.
- Yes... - Yes?
Can I go now? I have a boat to catch.
Ah. Yes, thanks.
- Emma Nieuwenhuis... - Really? That's my name too.
They really examined me thoroughly.
Yes, I can see that. But I still have a few questions.
Okay, so I was on my way home from work.
I am an editor at Vita Brevis publishing. Have you heard of it?
Doesn't matter.
So I was driving home from work. There was a bend.
I swerved. Splash, end of story.
Oh, sorry. I haven't introduced myself yet.
My name is Dr. Visser. I am a psychiatrist.
Hi.
Emma Nieuwenhuis. Editor. Anyway...
I have to go. Because I'm actually going on vacation.
- On vacation? - Yes, so nice. With my boyfriend.
The emergency services said that you didn't want help. Emma?
- Shock reaction? - Maybe.
But I'm still worried.
I think it would be good if you stayed on the psychiatric ward for a bit.
The psychiatric ward?
I was just talking to Emma.
Whether it might be a good idea
to take her in for observation at the BHU.
B-H-U. the Behavioral Health Unit of a general hospital.
Do you know why you're here, Emma?
Yes, we just talked about it, didn't we?
This was bound to happen.
Dick, it was a car accident. These things happen. Right?
I mean, this is all just a mistake, isn't it?
- That's exactly what I said, Mom. - Yes.
There's nothing seriously wrong, right?
Yeah, I really don't understand it either.
No.
Maybe I might potentially be a tiny bit overworked.
But I feel that all my colleagues are overworked.
- And they're not all in here. - No.
It is an occupational hazard.
Strict authors, super-tight deadlines.
I read in your medical file that you haven't been admitted before?
- No. - No.
- Outpatient care? - What do you mean exactly?
- Psychologist, psychiatrist. - No, nothing like that.
No.
But maybe this is a good time, Pipsqueak.
- To take a short break. - Dick.
But Dad, I was just about to go on vacation.
- Why not? - Are you serious?
What actually happens if I don't want this?
If necessary, I can force an admission.
But that takes much longer than it really needs to.
I'd really rather not do that.
But I also don't want to send you home like this.
"Like this"? There's nothing wrong with her. What do you mean, "like this"?
If I really must, I'll just stay one night, okay?
That seems like a good start.
Or two. Max.
If you'd like to fill this out, please?
Photo.
Oops. No worries.
Sorry, we're confiscating these.
Oh, right.
And your hairbrush.
My hairbrush? What would I do with that? Comb myself to death?
Sorry.
- All done. - Right. Thanks.
Emma Nieuwenhuis, editor.
We have Dien's bed, but it needs to be made first.
- Wow, that's a lot of pills. - Yes, I have a lot of headaches.
Or rather, I get headaches very often.
Best to have a stash, or it's back and forth to the pharmacy.
And I don't have time for that.
I'm off on holiday now with my boyfriend, to Terschelling.
He's being discovered at an open mic event.
So we're just tacking on some camping, mudflat walking, and relaxing.
If you have any questions, you can ask Sandra or Jesse.
Sure.
These are the house rules. Practical info about the ward.
Take a look at them, so you know how things work here.
Here you go.
The rules are simple.
For now, no staying in your room during the day.
No smoking in your room, no eating in your room.
- No sleeping in your room? - Well, you get pills for that.
And this is your room.
Marja, this is Emma. Emma, Marja.
- Marja, can you show Emma around? - Yes.
If you have any questions, you know where to find me.
Everything will be fine.
- Hi. - Hi.
So, this is your bed, bedside table, wardrobe.
I don't really need it. I'll be out of here in no time.
It won't open any further.
Shit. Everything is soaking wet.
Oh no, this is work.
This is the chicken encyclopedia I'm editing.
I have A to D done, but D to Z still needs work.
Anyway, I'm going on holiday with my boyfriend, so...
- Come on, I haven't had my coffee yet. - Sure.
He's sitting on the couch, coffee in hand.
I say, "Guus, you're asleep."
He opens his eyes and says, "I'm just thinking."
- Hi. - Hey.
- Nice hair. - Thanks. You too.
Well, the coffee sucks here. Just so you know.
Jesse, I can't function without coffee. I'm shaking just thinking about it.
And I'm not the only one. That goes for every normal person.
Here. Joyce, coffee. Dimitri, coffee.
- Johan, you drink coffee. How much a day? - 44.
That seems a bit excessive.
Everyone, this is Emma. Emma, this is everyone.
- Emma's not really supposed to be here. - Yeah, a bit of a mix-up.
Oh. Hey. My super-hot boyfriend.
- Hi. - Emma?
- No phones at the table. - Honey.
And unfortunately no walking off during meals either.
Em.
- I'll call you right back. - But, Em--
- Yeah. - No.
Babe, finally. I've tried calling you a million times. Where are you?
Hey, baby. Yeah, something's up.
- I'm kind of at a hospital. - Kind of?
Like a psychiatric retreat.
A psychiatric retreat?
Darling. I had a minor accident. Drove the car into the canal. Nothing serious.
- What? I'm coming to you. Where are you? - No, babe, no.
- Listen, don't do anything. - I will.
I don't want you putting everything on the line for me.
Focus on your music. There's nothing you can do here.
- I'll probably be home tomorrow. - You could've died.
Really, don't. Go rock it there and blow them away, okay?
- Love you. - No, Em. Come on.
I think it's so dull. Guus loves fishing.
I just sit there. It's not too bad when the weather is nice.
No, it is not right, that I only get two pills.
One temazepam for Ms. Nieuwenhuis. Is that right?
I don't know. What's in it?
It is sleep medication. No need for concern.
Everyone here is taking it.
If you don't take your meds, I must report it to the psychiatrist.
Then we'll find another way to make sure you take it anyway.
- Well done. - There you go.
Yummy.
I have a weirdly heavy head.
Just let the pill do its job.
- What is that? - Meditation.
It's either this or googling all night if I can do without my organs.
No, I don't mean that. I mean...
You scared me.
- You're Emma, right? - Yes.
We do a round three times a night, so you can go back to sleep.
Yeah.
How am I supposed to sleep if they come by three times a night?
You meditate.
Meditate? I'd rather die.
Chickens are much smarter than you think. Wait, I already covered that.
The most common parasite is often found around the cloaca.
Ew, gross.
Ouch.
Oh, shit.
Hey.
- Hey. Hey.
- Hey. I'm back. - What? How come you're back already?
Yeah, well... Just look behind you.
- Hi. - Hey.
I thought I'd call you first.
Could you open the door?
Hi.
- Come on in. - Thanks.
Hey, babe.
- How was it? - Yeah, how are you?
- You look good. Just normal. - Yes, I think so too. Come.
Hi.
No running, Mr. De Bruin.
What would Guus think if we sold everything
to travel the world in a camper?
- Sorry, I don't know Guus, Joyce. - We have never even met him.
Hi. I'm Sergei. I'm Emma's boyfriend.
- Hi. - Nice to meet you. Cute.
Come on.
I'm glad to see a normal person for a change.
Yeah, I get that.
- Babe, what are you doing here? - Tell me, how was it?
- Huh? Oh well... It sucked. - Yeah?
Maybe you shouldn't just sing other people's songs all the time.
Maybe. But babe, why are you here?
- I need to stay a little longer. - Huh?
No, why?
I've just been working too hard. I need to rest here for a bit.
I totally get that. But why here? You could rest at my place.
Baby, if something serious were wrong with me, you'd have noticed, right?
Yeah.
- Of course. - There you go.
Well... Here.
This one doesn't talk much, but is always positive.
How sweet. Thank you.
Thanks.
I'm scared because you never know what you'll be thinking next.
Like how you can't see the back of your own head.
If you think about that, it drives you mad.
If you think about things like that, I reckon you're mad anyway.
Joyce.
Is there anyone else who'd like to respond to Marja?
No.
Go ahead.
- Now I have to go home. - That's great.
- I mean, that's a good thing, right? - Yeah, well...
My whole life was fine for a long time.
Until they had to drag me out of the neighbors’ kitchen.
Naked, screaming.
I broke my son's nose.
Why the neighbors' kitchen? Didn't you have one yourself?
But being allowed to go home, that's positive, right?
I'd kill to be allowed to go home.
I think Guus would really like it if I came home now too.
Yeah, nobody wants to be here, do they?
- Emma. - Yes?
Is there anything you'd like to share with the group? About yourself?
No.
No, I'm completely fine.
What?
- Emma... - It's fine. I'm fine.
I'm okay.
Can you just check if that's correct?
- Mr. De Bruin is in a hurry again. - Sprint to the finish.
Chickens sleep better on a raised perch.
It stops their feathers getting dirty when they poo at night.
- Hi. - Hey.
Hi, sweetheart.
- Hi, Dad. - Hello, hon.
- Nice. - Yeah.
Right.
So, how are you?
- We're adapting. - Yeah. No, I get it.
It's not easy for us either, of course.
But well, a burnout, it's just a phase. It's just a blip.
You just need to take a step back for a bit.
- Did you bring them? - Yes.
- What are you doing? - Well, she asked for them.
- You can't do this. - Dick, she asked for them.
- So you're just carrying on working here? - No running, Mr. De Bruin.
No, this isn't working. This is...
therapeutically staying in touch with reality.
It's like micro-dosing. Very on-trend in the therapy world right now.
- If you want to... If it helps... - Is that what they say here?
I just need to stay connected to my healthy productive self, Dad.
- That's completely normal. - Yeah, that's really good.
I'm so glad you're doing a bit better.
- Are you going for walks much? - In my head, Mom.
Exercise and good sleep. That's the best medicine.
Yeah. Absolutely.
Sometimes you've got to disappear for a bit, if you don't want to drown.
- Hi. - Well, I never. Dientje.
- No, back so soon? - Yeah, I missed you guys.
Oh, love. Hey.
For fuck's sake. I told you it was too soon, didn't I?
- Come and sit down. - Thanks.
What's happened, love?
Well, I bought a rope.
And I took the train to a forest.
- And I chose a tree. - And...
And the rope was too long.
Yeah.
Apparently karma had other plans.
Fuck karma.
Do you recognize this?
Emma, do you recognize yourself in this?
I honestly really do not understand why I'm even here, okay?
It doesn't make sense. There is nothing wrong with me. I just want to go home.
What I'm hearing from the therapist is: you're still not sleeping.
You're suppressing your feelings. You're barely engaging in therapy.
Well, those are things I'll work on at home. All right?
Scout's honor.
Do you know what it is?
I'm worried about what will happen to you if you go home now.
Oh, you really don't need to.
Do you ever think about suicide?
Oof.
No more than the average person. What about you?
The average person doesn't think about suicide, Emma.
I have several plans to end my life.
But that doesn't mean I'm going to do it. Come on.
They're thoughts. That's not a reason to be sectioned.
- Isn't it? - No. It's completely normal.
And what exactly is "normal"?
Okay, I'm not saying I'm talking about myself.
But everyone wants to die sometimes.
Some people maybe a bit more often than others.
As long as it's just thoughts... Right?
Everyone has dark thoughts sometimes.
And as long as it stays that way... But your accident?
All those pills in your suitcase... That worries me.
They have nothing to do with each other, Dr. Visser. Honestly.
Maybe not, but...
All things considered, I think you're suicidal.
Probably due to depression.
Sorry, but... Depressed?
Sorry, but if I had depression,
I wouldn't be laughing this much right now, would I?
It's not that clear-cut.
Sorry, never mind me.
I've been having that a lot lately. Hormones, I reckon.
According to protocol I want you to stay here for now.
For now? And what does that mean? Are we talking a day?
- A week? A month? - We'll have to see.
In the meantime, it would be good to keep a journal.
I don't have time for that.
You've got all the time in the world here.
And I really think it could help. To get a grip on things.
Thanks.
Hey.
No, because we were running late. That's why.
Yes.
Chickens are descended from dinosaurs.
They are very closely related to the T-Rex.
T-Rexes are terrifying creatures.
They wait until you are weak. Then they strike. No mercy.
Focus. I need to find the source of domestication in Egypt.
Where is it? When in danger, some chickens...
Some chickens, when they're in danger...
When in danger, some chickens pretend to be dead.
I find that hilarious. I'll jot that down later.
So basically, my whole life, I've been pretending to be alive.
- Can you cut a bit more gently? - Chickens.
- Cutting. - Okay.
So many vowels.
- D? - No, no D.
- Then O, possibly? No? - Afraid not.
Oh, gosh. I'm nearly dead.
Hey.
Jesus, you scared me. Couldn't sleep?
- I'm not a very good sleeper. - No, me neither.
Oh, nice.
My dad wants me to take over the barbershop once I'm done here.
But how?
When I'm scared of touching anything without disinfecting it first?
Maybe you should start with something really small.
Do you want to try?
Here. Just a small strand.
Okay.
Okay, okay.
Thank you.
And what's got you out of bed, Emma Nieuwenhuis?
Hi.
- Hey. - Hey, there you are.
Jesus, Em. How are you? Your parents filled me in a bit.
- Yeah, really great. - Okay.
Here you go. From the publishing house. From us.
Yay!
- Is it something bad? - Oh, no.
- Thank God. - Not at all, no.
They just think that little accident was down to exhaustion, or something.
So I have to rest here for a bit.
Okay, yeah.
Do you want to see my room?
Nice, right? The text is as good as finished.
The illustrations just need perfecting, and then...
Oh, dear.
Em, it's already at the printer's. I just finished it myself.
Okay.
That's great. I mean, brilliant, right?
Saves me a job. Super.
As long as it turned out nicely.
I should get going now. I've got therapy and all that.
Are you sure you're okay?
No, but I'm sure they've got a pill for that too.
- Good luck. - Already got it.
Hey.
- Okay. - Okay, bye.
- You all right? - Yeah.
I'm meditating.
Emma?
Hey, babe.
Hello. What's up?
- Hi. - Hello.
- How's it going? - Super.
- Yeah? - Yeah.
Are you cold?
You're shivering all over. Here, wait.
There.
Hey...
My love? I made something for you.
I thought maybe it'd cheer you up. It's not finished yet, but...
It's more of a start, a kind of sketch. Wrote it myself.
Tears in your beautiful eyes And your hands in your hair
My darling, I'll make the sun shine again
Trust me
I'll turn on the light for you
Just follow me
When you're weak, I'll be strong
That's as far as I've got.
So cool.
- Yeah? - Yeah.
It is not finished yet. Obviously.
It'll get... Later. More. Better.
I think better later, okay? I have a bit of a headache. Sorry.
- Oh, is that it? - Yeah.
Hey. Em?
How are you really?
I hate that question.
- Cramps. - Careful.
- Cramps. - Mr. De Bruin?
Were you waiting for the bus?
Not exactly.
There are two loonies at a bus stop.
One says to the other, "Are you taking the bus?"
The other replies, "No, I'm going for pills."
- Marja? - Yes?
- Do you ever want to die? - No.
No. I'm scared of living.
- That's pretty rough too. - Yeah.
- Come on. - Yeah.
Okay. Here I go.
I'm Emma.
Successful woman. Junior editor.
Perfect life with a perfect boyfriend. Perfect. Everything just perfect.
But apparently I'm a danger.
Not for others, but to myself. And now here I am.
In this place.
Stuck in my own head.
And in a way, I get it.
I often just feel completely empty.
Do you know what it is?
It feels like I have to keep moving all the time.
Because if I stop, everything will catch up with me.
- Five. - Seven.
What?
I know, Johan. Counting is hard.
Was that necessary?
Just trying to help. Someone's got to prepare him for the real world.
- And you're a shining example of that. - I didn't say that.
But if you're going to do something, do it properly.
Hi.
- Are you a writer? - No, I'm an editor.
A professional at improving things that were already good enough.
No, a professional at improving things that people think are good enough.
- I'm Boudewijn. - Emma.
- I'm a chef. - What kind of chef?
One with a hat.
No, seriously, I work as a head chef at Hotel UP.
Really? They've got a star, haven't they?
You are sitting opposite a celebrity.
That star lost its shine when you started hitting people.
Details, Marja. How long have you been in here again?
Long enough to see you return, Boudewijn.
- Why are you here? - Why are you here?
You first.
- I'm in here for delusions of grandeur. - Oh, yeah?
Just yesterday, I tried to invade Belgium on a rocking horse.
Let me guess. Didn't work?
Not quite, but I'll keep trying. And you?
Drama.
I was five when I saw my mother get eaten by vultures at Artis Zoo.
Look, that's a smile.
- I'm not smiling. - Oh, no. Of course not.
You're really annoying.
You'll get there, Marja.
Thanks.
So, you're abandoning me?
If it were up to me, I'd move in here for good. You know that.
- I'm never getting out of here. - Of course you will. Give it a chance.
Oh, a chance? That's a good one. Sure.
Take care of yourself.
That is quite a responsibility. Not really my strong suit, you know that.
Fancy a jigsaw?
A therapeutic stroll round the garden?
Game of ping-pong later?
If that's what you want to call it...
And this is your room.
Emma, this is Kim. Kim, this is Emma.
Emma, could you show Kim the ropes?
If you have any questions, you know where I am.
Hi, I'm Kim. I'm new.
I'm Emma. Old guard.
Well, that's your bed. And that's your wardrobe.
No need. I'll be gone tomorrow. I still have to hand in my thesis.
That's your noticeboard. Your desk.
I drank a bottle of bleach because I thought my dad might finally notice me.
Spoiler: he didn't.
Oh, and I hear voices. Well, sometimes.
Nothing scary, though. More like shopping lists.
Okay, come on.
- My deepest wish? - Yes.
What do you really want, deep down?
I could say 'death' again, but that's such a cliché.
But wanting to die, that's the pathology. That's what you're suffering from.
You're not the pain in your big toe or your rotten tooth.
- What does Emma want? - Yeah.
What does Emma really want?
How should I know?
Apparently I'm not my pain and I'm not my mood,
but the pills for that mood change the way I think.
So how would I know? What am I supposed to be, then?
Interesting you should say that.
- That I say what? - About the pills.
It's true, isn't it?
But what did you want before you wanted to die?
Tell me.
Emma has always wanted to die. Right?
Just like everyone else, she thinks.
Not me.
- Me neither. - Or me.
Me neither.
Okay, I'm going to confess something. I'm officially fucked up.
No, okay. That sounds way too dramatic.
But the people here are actually pretty all right. Most of them.
Shit, I fell out of bed. Sorry.
In here, we're all just a bit broken.
Now for a ghastly coffee.
- Hey. - Hi.
Want to play ping-pong?
No, I don't want trouble.
Fine. I'll put something on.
Don't bother.
Wait.
Duck.
Hurry.
Come on.
Look, you can see it from here.
That's where I work.
Or... Well, not right now.
A customer complained about the temperature of his swordfish.
So I walked into the restaurant to tell him it was perfect.
Then I punched him in the face.
My boss, also my ex-wife...
mother of my son Ollie, was not too happy about that.
Maybe I shouldn't have headbutted him.
Or dragged him across three tables.
So they gave me a choice. Criminal charges. Or this.
In the end, I wasn't happy with it either.
That's why I went back to the psych ward.
- All right, here we go. - Bring it on.
Yes. Point for me.
- Phew. - There.
Hey.
Bam.
Sorry.
Bam.
- Point for Emma. - Boudewijn, come on.
- Bam. - Point for Emma.
Come on, Boudewijn. Come on.
Hi. Is it exciting?
Yes, very.
Oh, my God.
Shh. Quiet for Emma.
- Yes! - Point for Boudewijn.
Yeah, Boudewijn.
One more point and you'll bite the dust.
Who taught you to count? Huh?
- I... - Bou, stop.
- Okay, match point. - Match point.
Yes!
Yes, bam!
Nice one, Em!
21, 19, Emma wins.
No, you just can't count, man.
- You're such a pathetic loser. - Bou, come on.
You're yelling at someone trying to keep score in a ping-pong game
like they're your sous chef.
Going great, huh? Mr. Tough Guy. Look at yourself. In your bathrobe.
Cut it out.
Stop it.
What is going on here?
- What is this your idea, Boudewijn? - Shit. I...
No, no.
I challenged him.
Everyone to bed, now.
Come on.
Well, day... I don't even know anymore, I've lost track.
But I'm still in the psych ward.
Another day.
Another one leaving.
Even more pills now.
They say it'll get better, but when, exactly?
I don't even know what "better" feels like.
Structure is important, they say. So breakfast, lunch, therapy.
The only thing I really know for sure is that I know nothing for sure.
I don't know what I want anymore.
What I do know is that I don't want to live like this.
- Thanks, Lars. - Thank you.
See you tomorrow.
- Until tomorrow. - See you.
Maybe this is enough.
Not understanding everything, just carrying on. Maybe that's better.
I want to stop thinking. Stop thinking about wanting to stop thinking.
Emma. Got a minute?
Yeah, I've got all day.
How are you feeling?
I don't know. You are the psychiatrist. Am I on track?
- How do you think it is going? - Yeah, great.
I think that we have to try a different approach.
Stop the antidepressants.
They're clearly not doing what we hoped they would.
Stop?
- Yes, stop. And then-- - Let me guess.
- New pills, doctor? - Yes.
New medication, Emma.
I understand this is frustrating, but you need to start taking this seriously.
Give it a chance. Work with it, not against it.
So if I understand correctly, I get pills for my so-called depression.
But I still have to stay positive, or they won't work.
- I'm trying to help you. - Yeah, I noticed.
You have to ask yourself whether pills can solve your problems at all.
How do you mean?
Maybe the BHU isn't right for you anymore.
I do want to get better and go home.
But maybe you'd be better off somewhere else.
Sometimes it's better not to wait for a solution, but to try something new.
Oh, right.
Hey, great. Let me know when you come up with another brilliant idea.
- Emma. Emma? Hey, hello? - I'm not doing anything. I'm fine.
- Not allowed, you know? - No.
Can you please stay out of this?
Not allowed either, right?
My ex won't let me see my son anymore.
She says it's too dangerous.
Probably her new boyfriend's idea.
Prick.
Probably for the best.
I have never been a role model. Not as a brother, not as a son.
And now not as a father either.
They used to say I was too sensitive. That I didn't fit in with the family.
Until I got a star. Then suddenly I did belong.
You know, I don't even know how to do that. Belong somewhere.
I don't even belong with my own child.
Do you ever wish you could fall asleep and not wake up?
I've wanted that for so long.
I don't even know what it's like not to want that.
Just that thought comforts me. That it could just happen.
- That you have it as a fallback? - Yeah.
- That you're just one step away. - Yeah, duh.
Why don't we just do it?
What? Now?
Yeah. Together.
But not here.
Come on.
Look.
- Go. - Where are you going with those balloons?
Wait.
Thank you.
Okay, what do we do now?
First we eat, obviously. Dying on an empty stomach is not done.
What are you in the mood for, after all that delicious hospital food?
- I want Lucky House. - Lucky House.
Ni hao. Welcome.
Zhé ge.
Zhé ge. And Tau Sie Kai.
Can I get a vodka?
Actually, make it the whole bottle.
Put it on the publisher's tab.
- You're hungry. - Starving.
Hello, Mr. Crab. Hello.
- Do you believe in life after death? - Fuck, no.
I hope not, at least. Otherwise all this effort is for nothing.
I used to want to come back as a butterfly. They seem so cheerful.
- Seriously? - Yeah.
Until I realized they can probably get just as depressed as people.
And why do you think that?
Because looking happy says nothing about how you feel.
So why have you never written a book yourself?
Instead of scribbling in those of others?
I can't.
A fairytale about a very beautiful, funny, sometimes slightly cynical girl?
- In a mental hospital? I'd buy it. - You?
If you can touch even one person with it? Why not?
You know what I think?
That there's nothing more intimate than dying together.
Yeah.
I think it's an honor to go into death together with you.
Well, the honor is all mine.
Tomorrow morning, at sunrise, we do it.
- What do we do in the meantime? - Live, obviously.
- Hey. You bunch of lunatics. - Hey.
- Come in, come in. - Hello.
- Right... - Welcome.
What are you doing here?
We just been given a bit more freedom.
- Completely free. - Yeah.
Emma, no.
- Your hair, it feels dead. - Really?
That's just great, for my hair.
No, I won't stand for this.
I've got my life somewhat under control. And you're getting some color.
Really?
You're doing really well, aren't you? I'm really happy for you.
Yeah, thanks.
So how are you?
Emma, it will pass, okay?
It won't always be like this.
- Ta-da! - Wow.
Easy lies the head that wears the pink crown.
- Cool. - Oh, shit.
- Come on. - Yeah.
- Bye, Dimitri. - So long.
Tomorrow around this time we won't be here anymore.
- There is no tomorrow around this time. - There will be.
But without us.
I want to show you something.
Hey, Boudewijn.
I am his twin brother: Jaap.
Nice to meet you.
This is what I wanted to show you. My sanctuary.
Perfect.
Look.
No... Yes.
- Jesus, this is delicious. - Right?
Let's see.
Yes.
A little acidity.
Bou.
What are you doing here?
I just wanted to show her our pride.
You don't work here anymore.
What the fuck? What's he sticking his nose into?
I blink once and he has taken over not just you, but also my kitchen?
Your problems go way back, Bou. As you well know.
Shouldn't you be in the loony bin?
So it was your idea to take my kid away from me, was it?
It's not like you're exactly a role model, is it?
You should be shitting your pants with shame.
If it were up to me, you'd never see your kid again.
Felix, please.
Why are you doing this?
Bou, will you please leave?
I love you, but I can't do this anymore. I just can't.
Do it for Ollie.
Hello.
I'm sorry.
I get it.
Hang on.
Yeah...
- Wow. - Yeah.
- Nice, right? - Yeah.
What are you doing?
Making a wish.
You've got nothing left to wish for, have you?
Perfect.
- Hey... - Oh, hi.
What are you doing here?
- Did you...? - No.
But I loved it.
- And you? Did you...? - Very much so.
It's time.
Are you afraid?
No, I'm not afraid.
But Bou...
I think for the first time, I actually feel alive.
What?
Maybe it's because of last night, or because of you, or...
I think it's just everything that's happened lately.
All those conversations...
And the ping-pong, and the puzzles, and the stews.
And everyone on the ward. Even that bloody coffee machine.
I don't know. I just feel bits of myself coming back.
No. This whole night has led to this moment.
- That we end it all together. - Yeah, about that--
What are you even saying? That you want to go back? Back to what?
Your perfect life?
No...
I don't really know what I want to go back to.
But I'm just not done yet.
At least you've got something to go back to.
- I just want to... - Live.
Not die.
Sorry.
Open the door.
Hey. No.
Stop it. Let me go.
May I?
You really gave me a fright.
Were you going to jump?
Well, apparently not.
Not this time. But last time, yeah.
In the car.
You better get some rest first.
See you later.
Cool.
Have you seen my voice recorder?
- You okay? - No.
No running in the corridors.
Sorry, but Kim fell and she is in a lot of pain.
You gave us quite a scare.
Can't bear to think about what could have happened.
- Then don't. Because it didn't. - Come on.
- Do you get enough to eat here? - Yes.
I started with one sleeping pill. Now it's three. And a few others.
So what are you two up to?
Your mother is still cheating on me with Emperor Hadrian.
Sometimes I think she's deliberately not finishing that thesis.
And I've just decided I am going into beekeeping.
- You're what? - Beekeeping.
With bees.
Yeah, beekeeping without bees seems a bit sad.
Standing there in your suit. Without bees.
You'll probably be better soon.
But you really have to want it, okay? That's key.
Yes, Mom, of course I want it. Why wouldn't I?
Yeah, sure.
Hey, cuckoo.
Where's my old Emma?
Hey, cuckoo.
That old Emma... She's not coming back, you know, Mom.
- That supposedly perfect daughter. - Just act normal for once.
- I mean... You know we support you, right? - Flossie...
- "Act normal"? - Yeah.
- I'm so done with acting normal. - Emma...
Sweetheart...
I just want to be alone.
For a while.
I have to do this myself.
Sorry, but... I have to...
Flossie!
Boudewijn?
- Hey. - Hi.
119... 120...
Are we okay?
Are we okay? We're amazing.
Was that it?
You won't let me down, will you?
I'm doing my best.
Bye.
- Hi. - Hi.
There.
Look. A bit like camping.
Japanese people also sleep low to the ground and live to 103. So...
103. I don't even want to think about it.
Move away from the window.
- It is Boudewijn. - People, away from that window.
People don’t die on the pavement outside the hospital. Jesus, bloody hell, fuck!
Hey.
- Hey, Emma. - Hey.
Oh. For the next patient?
Yeah, that's what it looks like. But it doesn't feel like that.
No.
Hey, Emma. Did we have an appointment?
Did you sleep here?
I need your help.
Sure.
Hey, chicken with black beans and noodles.
Yes, don't mind the mess.
Here.
Just scared I might actually use it otherwise.
- How are you feeling? - Shitty.
Do you want to talk about it?
Okay.
Look.
Can't you just give me a pill that makes me numb again?
Because now I'm scared. Afraid of my own thoughts.
Afraid that it won't just stay at thoughts.
Afraid that I might actually do something.
What if you didn't think at all? How would you feel then?
Terrible. Guilt, loss.
Maybe you're not suicidal right now...
but just grieving.
Yeah.
Yeah...
- Feels good. - Yeah?
Yeah.
- Just normal, I guess. - What do you mean by "normal"?
You fall out of bed regularly. That's not exactly normal.
Just force of habit.
I thought if I fell really hard, maybe they'd notice me.
Started when I was five. Spoiler alert.
They don't notice me. My father, at least.
My mother's gone, so I can't ask her.
I'm just some kind of background noise for him, which he ignores.
Does anyone recognize this feeling?
I think...
I think I've always wanted to be invisible.
Even as a child. I didn't want to be a burden to my parents.
They were so caught up in their own stuff.
So I felt like I shouldn't make a fuss.
I just had to be perfect.
I can relate to that. The need to be perfect.
For your parents?
Yes, my dad used to say that nothing is impossible.
And I did try. Every day, I did nothing.
And you, Emma? Go on.
Well, right now, I mostly just don't want to die anymore.
Crazy, right?
That's actually a really good thing.
Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is.
It's a bit stuffy here.
I get that we can't open the windows all the way.
But then put up a screen, or get a proper air conditioner.
- What are you doing? - I'm meditating.
Oh, cool.
Half past eight?
It's half past eight. I've overslept.
- Emma, congratulations. - Nice one.
- Good job. - Yes.
- Hey. - Hi.
I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas.
Yeah, you too. Merry Christmas.
Bye.
Ms. Nieuwenhuis?
- Have a good day. - You too.
Waiting for Guus?
Hey.
Caught in the act.
Shouldn't you be doing the "peace on earth and good will to all men" thing?
Awkwardness around a table full of candles and getting way too drunk?
Hey, are you okay?
My girlfriend thought Christmas was the perfect time to pick up her stuff.
I can see how that would set the mood, yeah.
That's why home...
isn't really feeling like home for me right now.
Yeah, so I made a choice for my work. And...
She made the choice for herself.
What a lovely couple we are.
You got dumped. And I'm...
Depressed?
Yeah.
Hungry?
- Hey. - Hello?
- Hey. - Hey.
Huh?
Hey, Mr. Waggle. Hi.
Hey, boy. Hey, you little rascal.
I thought you were Lucky House.
No, we're Nieuwenhuis Catering.
The competition.
We just wanted to drop this off. We don't want to bother you.
- There you go. - Well, it's Christmas. So...
Of course you can stay.
- Okay. - Oh, really?
- Well... - Yes, please.
Let me help you.
More plates.
- Here you go. - Forks...
About that incident with the car...
Back then, I didn't want...
To be helped. So I...
I wanted them to leave. To just leave me alone.
Oh, Emma...
It wasn't an accident.
I didn't really know what it was.
But I did know that something wasn't quite right in my head.
And I... I just felt so stupid.
And I was ashamed all the time
because of the things I said and the things I thought.
And the idea that I'd have to talk about it with you
or tell you about it, that just felt impossible.
Or tell Sergei. Or anyone.
So I thought...
Maybe it would just be easier if I were dead?
For you. And for myself too. Really.
So yeah. I'm depressed.
And I've been that way for a long time, Much longer than I care to admit.
God...
God, why didn't I know?
I didn't know either.
- It's just complicated. - Yeah.
Oh, I'll go.
Here.
- Bye. - Bye.
I don't think he's coming anymore, Joyce.
Look.
Here.
Right. This is nice.
Guus can go fuck himself.
Look. This one's for you.
- Really? - Yeah.
- This one's for you. - Oh, that's nice, Mr. De Bruin.
- Nice box. - This one for you.
- For me? - Yeah.
I forgot I still had to give you something because of the trouble with Guus.
Here.
- Hey. - From Boudewijn.
From Boudewijn?
Hey Emma, a little message from me, from the other side.
I really, really don't want you to feel guilty.
Not at all.
This was my deepest wish.
And besides, if I don't take those pills, I come in ten seconds.
Six, max.
Especially with someone like you.
So, Nieuwenhuis. Make something of it.
And honestly, I think you're actually going to pull it off.
- And that... Oh. - Boudewijn?
Someone's knocking.
I'll go open the door. Probably some nutcase.
Bye for now.
- Hey. - Hi.
Are we okay?
Well...
- To Boudewijn. - Yeah, to Boudewijn.
Cheers.
Okay, here I go.
I'm Emma.
Successful woman. Junior redact--
It feels like I have to keep moving all the time.
Because if I stop, everything will--
I don't know what I want anymore. I do know I don't want to live like this.
They say it will get better. But when, exactly? I don't even know how to--
At first glance, the psychiatric ward
is no different from any other hospital department.
You come in with a problem and you leave again. Cured, or not.
When you break your arm, you go to the ER.
You tell the doctor what happened, where it hurts
and then you wait for their advice.
Here. I hope you get to leave soon too.
Yeah, maybe. But for now, I'm happy for you.
- You've got this, Emma. - Yeah. See you soon.
No, not "see you soon."
Bye.
- Bye now. - Bye.
How are you feeling?
Yeah... Okay. I think. I'm not entirely sure.
It does feel a bit daunting. I don't have that much energy.
Especially compared to when I first came in.
Back then, I felt like I could take on the world. Or at least, I thought I could.
You'll find a middle ground.
Slightly lower highs, slightly less deep lows.
Give it time.
Finding a middle ground sounds pretty boring, though.
You'll still be you, and that's not boring.
No.
- And you? What are you going to do? - I'm taking a break.
- Oh, nice. A mental-health break? - Uh, no.
Okay.
Can I give you a hug?
- That would be very unprofessional. - Yeah.
- Well, bye. - Bye.
We just go straight here.
- Where is it exactly? - A little further.
- Is this it? - Yes.
- Time to get out. - Yeah, definitely. One hundred percent.
Emma, Emma, go, go, go.
Thanks, Guus. Excellent.
- There? - Yes.
Come on.
There's posters everywhere.
- Wow, look at that. - Look!
- Hey, hi. You look great. - Can I take one? Thank you.
- Hey, Pipsqueak. - Hey, Dad.
Good coffee here.
Emma. Emma Nieuwenhuis.
She looked at me, shook my hand and smiled when she came to apply.
She pointed out a few irregularities on the website
and suggested making a list of corrections.
And now you've written a book yourself.
The only manuscript ever submitted completely error-free.
Emma. You have written a beautiful book.
- Thank you. - Congratulations.
Thank you.
Okay.
Hi.
"I always thought that being broken meant you could never be whole again."
"But that isn't true."
"Being broken just means that you need a different form."
"Life doesn't come with a manual."
"No instructions for putting yourself back together."
"But this is what I've learned."
"You don't have to know everything at once."
"You just have to keep going."
"Step by step. Day by day."
"Maybe I didn't become who I wanted to be."
"But I am who I am."
"And that is enough."
Oh, these are happy tears. Really.
Emma!
Oh, sweetheart...
Sometimes you disappear into the shadows
Turn into a dark alley Where no one can see you anymore
Sometimes I have no idea Where you are going
And neither, it seems, do you
But if you ever want to disappear again
If your world comes crashing down Once more
Know that I will always be here
I'll let you go But I'll never leave you alone
Wherever you go I'll be close by your side
Even if you've sunk Into the deepest of depths
I'm no longer afraid of your darkness
I don't need to turn on a light for you My love
I'm no longer afraid of your darkness
Have you been affected by this topic? Contact the MIND helpline at 0900-1450.
Are you thinking about suicide? Call 113 or chat at 113.nl.