Christie runs out of the room, and Patrick chases her naked. She runs to a door and throws it open, to reveal a closet with two dead women in plastic bags hanging on coathangers. The full horror of Patrick's existence finally revealed to her, she lets out a bloodcurdling scream. She enters another room and almost vomits. Spraypainted on the wall is the words 'DIE YUPPIE SCUM' and the room is covered with blood and faeces. She backs out and sees Patrick turn the corner naked wielding a chainsaw.
She cuts through a maze of doors and finally runs into a bathroom. She falls into a pool of blood next to another dead, naked woman. Patrick runs in, covered in Elizabeth's blood and starts biting her leg. She kicks him in the face and runs.
Bateman: Not the face! Not the fucking face you piece of bitch trash!
She runs through the living room and out into the hallway, pounding and screaming on neighbours' doors, but to no avail. Patrick runs after her, stark nude, and chainsaw in hand.
She runs down a circular set of stairs. Patrick reaches the top and holds the chainsaw out over the gap, waiting for the right moment.
When she nears the bottom, he lets go, and the chainsaw falls end over end, finally hitting its target. He screams in victory. The chainsaw has impaled Christie through the back.
Patrick doodles a woman impaled with a chainsaw with a crayon on a paper tablecloth. He hasn't touched his dessert. Evelyn is sitting next to him, asking him to commit to their relationship. The restaurant is crowded with middle-class looking people.
Bateman: I think Evelyn, that uh, we've lost touch.
Evelyn: Why, what's wrong?
She waves to someone. A woman flashes a gold bracelet to her, and she mouths "It's beautiful. I love it."
Bateman (scratching a red X over his drawing): My need to engage in homicidal behaviour on a massive scale cannot be corrected, but uh, I have no other way to fulfill my needs. We need to talk. It's over, it's all over.
Evelyn: Touchy touchy. I'm sorry I brought up the wedding. Let's just avoid the issue, alright? Now, are we having coffee?
Bateman: I'm fucking serious. It's fucking over, us, this is no joke, uh, I don't think we should see each other any more.
Evelyn: But your friends are my friends, and my friends are your friends. I really don't think it would work.
She tries to brush some food away from the corner of his mouth, but he stops her.
Bateman: I know that your friends are my friends, and I've thought about that. You can have 'em.
Evelyn (finally understands): You're really serious, aren't you? What about the past? Our past?
Bateman: We never really shared one. You're inhuman.
Evelyn (starts crying): No. I'm-I'm in touch with humanity.
Bateman: Evelyn I'm sorry, I just uh... you're not terribly important to me.
She cries so loudly that the whole restaurant turns to look at her.
Bateman: I know my behaviour can be *erratic* sometimes...
Evelyn (cries): What is it that you want?
Bateman (snaps): If you really want to do something for me then stop making this scene *right now*!
Evelyn (weeps): Oh God I can't believe this.
Bateman: I'm leaving. I've assessed the situation and I'm leaving.
Evelyn: But where are you going?
Bateman: I have to return some videotapes.
Evening. Patrick stops near the lobby of a building to use an ATM. He sticks his card in the machine. Looking down he sees a stray cat.
Bateman: Here kitty kitty.
He picks up the cat and starts petting it. A message comes on the screen of the ATM: 'FEED ME A STRAY CAT'. He tries to put the cat in the card slot of the ATM, but it pushes itself away. He pulls out a 9mm pistol and points it at the cat's head. A woman in a fur coat sees this.
Woman: Oh my God. What you doing? Stop that!
He shoots her in the chest and she falls to the ground. He lets the cat go.
A siren is heard a block away, and a police car pulls up at the other end of the lobby. He takes his card and walks away. He tries to steal a car, but every car on the street is locked, and he only winds up setting off all their car alarms. He kicks the back of a Porsche and runs. Two police cars cut him off on the next street. They get out, guns drawn.
Police: Drop the weapon! Drop it now! Get on the ground!
He starts to put his hands up, then turns the gun on the officers. They exchange gunfire. He runs behind a parked car for cover, firing and hitting one of them.
He fires five more shots, and both police cars explode in a massive fireball. Stunned by his luck, he looks at the gun, then at his watch, and walks away. He breaks into a run, under the support columns of a skyscraper. He walks into the lobby of an apartment.
Desk Man: Burning the midnight oil, Mr. Smith? Don't forget to sign in.
He pulls out the gun and shoots him in the head. He runs past the elevators. One of them opens and a janitor gets out. He goes around a revolving door, back into the lobby, shoots the janitor, then out the other side.
He runs into another lobby. Out of breath and drenched in sweat, he goes up to the desk. Smiling at the doorman, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pen, signs in, and goes up in the elevator, crying. He reaches his office. He looks out the window, then hides from the searchlight of a passing police helicopter. Still crying, he makes a phone call. An answering machine picks it up.
Bateman: Harold, it's Bateman. You're my lawyer so I think you should know, I've killed a lot of people. Some girls in the apartment uptown uh, some homeless people maybe 5 or 10, um an NYU girl I met in Central Park. I left her in a parking lot behind some donut shop. I killed Bethany, my old girlfriend, with a nail gun, and some man, some old faggot with a dog last week.
I killed another girl with a chainsaw, I had to, she almost got away and uh someone else there I can't remember maybe a model, but she's dead too. And Paul Allen. I killed Paul Allen with an axe in the face, his body is dissolving in a bathtub in Hell's Kitchen. I don't want to leave anything out here. I guess I've killed maybe 20 people, maybe 40. I have tapes of a lot of it, uh some of the girls have seen the tapes.
I even, um... (almost can't say it) I ate some of their brains. I tried to cook a little. (starts laughing) Tonight I, uh, hahahaha... I just had to kill a LOT of people! (crying again) And I'm not sure I'm gonna get away with it this time. I guess I'll uh, I mean, ah, I guess I'm a pretty uh, I mean I guess I'm a pretty sick guy. (smiling) So, if you get back tomorrow, I may show up at Harry's Bar, so you know, keep your eyes open.
He hangs up and tries to compose himself. The helicopter can still be heard buzzing around but is getting fainter.
Morning. He showers and picks a suit from his walk-in closet. He goes to Paul Allen's place, putting on a surgical mask because of the smell of the bodies he left there.
Opening the door, he finds the place empty and repainted white. Three people are talking in one of the rooms, and the floor is lined with cloth and there is a ladder and some other redecorating equipment. He heads towards the closet where he left two bodies. It contains only paint cans, ladders and buckets.
He takes off the mask, stunned.
Woman: Are you my 2:00?" asks a well-dressed 40-something woman behind him.
Woman: Can I help you?
Bateman: I'm looking for Paul Allen's place. Doesn't he live here?
Woman: No he doesn't. Did you see the ad in the Times?
Bateman: No. Yeah. I mean yeah. In the times.
Woman: There was no ad in the times. I think you should go now.
He asks what happened here. She tells him not to make any trouble, and tells him again that he should leave. He starts to leave.
Woman (warning him): Don't come back.
Bateman: I won't. Don't worry.
He closes the door behind him. Outside, Bateman calls Jean from a payphone. He downs the rest of a bottle of pills while he waits for her to pick up. She answers.
Bateman (distraught): Jean... I need help.
Jean: Patrick is that you? Craig McDermott called, he wants to meet you, Van Paten and Bryce at Harry's Bar for drinks.
Bateman (croaks): What did you say, you dumb bitch...
Jean: Patrick I can't hear you.
Bateman (laughs): What am I doing?
Jean: Where are you Patrick? What's wrong?
Bateman (starts crying): I don't think I'm going to... make it, Jean. To the uh, office, this afternoon.
Jean (worried): Why?
Bateman (screams): JUST... SAY... NO!
Jean: What is it? Patrick, are you alright?
Bateman (screams, laughing): Stop sounding so fucking SAD! JESUS!
He hangs up, then tries to compose himself.
Jean goes to Patrick's desk. She opens a drawer and finds a leather notebook. The first few pages have regular appointments. One page has a drawing of someone getting killed with a shotgun in the mouth.
Patrick reaches Harry's Bar. He straightens his dishevelled hair and goes inside. Bryce, Van Paten and McDermott are sitting and drinking. McDermott tells him he looks wild-eyed.
McDermott: Rough day at the office?
Bryce is drinking mineral water.
Bryce: He's a changed man! But he still can't get a reservation to save his life.
Bateman tells them he isn't going anywhere unless they have a reservation. They discuss various restaurants.
Bateman spots his lawyer, Harold Carnes, across the room, and excuses himself. His lawyer is telling someone how the Japanese will own most of the country by the end of the '90s.
Bateman: So uh, did you get my message?
Carnes: Jesus yes! That was hilarious! That *was* you, wasn't it! Bateman killing Allen and the escort girls. That's fabulous. That's rich.
He asks him what he means.
Carnes: The message you left. By the way Davis, how's Cynthia? You're still seeing her, right?
Bateman: What do you mean?
Carnes: Nothing. It's good to see you. Is that Edward Towers?
He starts to walk away but Bateman stops him.
Carnes: Davis. I'm not one to bad-mouth anyone. Your joke was amusing. But come on man. You had one fatal flaw. Bateman is such a dork, such a boring, spineless lightweight. Now if you said Bryce, or McDermott, otherwise it was amusing. Now if you'll excuse me, I really must be going.
For some odd reason, Carnes keeps calling Patrick "Davis". Patrick angrily stops him again.
Bateman (whispers with tears in his eyes): I did it, Carnes! I killed him! I'm Patrick Bateman! I chopped Allen's fucking head off!
Bateman: The whole message I left on your machine was true.
Carnes tries to leave again.
Bateman: No! Listen, don't you know who I am? I'm not Davis, I'm Patrick Bateman!
Bateman (no longer sounds sure who he is): We talk on the phone all the time. Don't you recognize me? You're my lawyer.
Bateman: Listen carefully. I killed Paul Allen. And I liked it. I can't make myself any clearer.
Carnes: That isn't possible. And I don't find this funny anymore.
Bateman: It never was supposed to be! Why isn't it possible?
Carnes: It's just not.
Bateman: Why not you stupid bastard?
Carnes: Because I had dinner with Paul Allen in London twice, just ten days ago.
Bateman: No you... didn't.
Patrick is stunned. He begins to doubt whether he actually killed Allen or not or all those other people. Maybe it was all a fantasy. Maybe Patrick Bateman's real name is Davis. Carnes excuses himself again and he lets him go.
Jean continues to look with horror through Patrick's notebook. A crude drawing of a woman getting her limbs cut off with a chainsaw. A naked woman nailed to boards. The more pages she turns, the worse the images get. Page after page is filled with shocking fantasies of rape, murder and mutilation of women.
Patrick returns to the table. The guys are watching President Ronald Reagan talking about Iran-Contra on TV.
Bryce: How can he lie like that?
Van Paten continues to ask where they have reservations, even though he isn't really hungry.
Bryce: How can he be so fucking... I don't know, cool about it?
Van Paten: Some guys are just born cool I guess.
Bateman starts laughing.
Van Paten: Bateman? What are you so fucking zany about?
Bateman: Ha ha, I'm just a happy camper! Rockin' and a-rollin'!
Turning back to Reagan on the TV.
Bryce: He presents himself as this harmless old codger, but inside... but inside...
Bateman: But inside doesn't matter.
McDermott: Inside? Believe it or not Bryce, we're actually listening to you.
Bryce asks Bateman what he thinks.
Van Paten says he doesn't like dry beers and needs a scotch.
Bateman looks over the faces of the people in the room as he narrates: There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp, and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others, and no one to escape. My punishment continues to elude me. My confession has meant nothing.