No Exit

Scene: A Late-Night Whiskey and Sartre – Jessica and Sam Discuss No Exit

The rain had come in slow, steady waves, making the air thick with the scent of salt and damp earth. Jessica sat curled in the armchair, one leg draped over the side, the ice in her whiskey melting as she turned the glass absently in her hand. Across from her, Sam leaned against the couch, book in hand, flipping idly through the pages.

No Exit.

Jessica huffed. “You trying to tell me something?”

Sam smirked but didn’t look up. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She stretched her legs out, staring at the ceiling. “Hell is other people.”

Sam glanced at her. “You believe that?”

She let out a slow breath. “Sometimes.”

He closed the book. “And the rest of the time?”

Jessica rolled the whiskey glass between her fingers, watching the liquid swirl. “The rest of the time, I don’t know.”

Sam leaned back, watching her. “Garcin, Estelle, and Inez—none of them ever really escape, do they?”

Jessica scoffed. “They don’t even try.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Because they can’t? Or because they won’t?”

Jessica exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “They had their chance. The door opens and Garcin just stands there, too paralyzed to walk through it. He needed Inez to forgive him first. As if that changed anything.”

Sam nodded. “So what’s stopping you?”

Jessica froze, fingers tightening around the glass. “Excuse me?”

Sam set the book down on the table. “You talk like you’re any different from Garcin.”

Her jaw clenched. “I’m nothing like him.”

Sam tilted his head. “Aren’t you?”

Jessica swallowed. “I don’t wait for other people to tell me who I am.”

Sam met her gaze, steady. “Then why are you still looking for answers?”

Jessica set the whiskey down a little harder than she meant to. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Sam smirked, but his voice stayed even. “I just think it’s funny. You fight like hell to convince everyone you’re free. That no one owns you, no one controls you. But you’re still stuck in the same room as Garcin.”

Jessica leaned forward, arms resting on her knees. “The difference is, I want to walk through the door.”

Sam nodded, watching her carefully. “Then why haven’t you?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

A gust of wind rattled the windows. The room smelled like rain.

Jessica exhaled, shaking her head. “Because I don’t know what’s on the other side.”

Sam took a sip of his whiskey. “Neither did he.”

Silence stretched between them.

Jessica sat back, rubbing her fingers against her temple. “You ever consider just letting me self-destruct in peace?”

Sam chuckled, low and easy. “Not my style.”

Jessica gave him a long look. “No, I guess it isn’t.”

She reached for her glass again, took a slow sip.

“Hell is other people,” she murmured.

Sam smirked. “Or maybe, other people are the only way out.”

Jessica didn’t answer. Just let the thought sit there, heavy in the air.

For once, she didn’t argue.