Original subtitles

One of the most intimate ways to kill someone

is to push them from a great height.

Terminal velocity refers to the maximum speed

attainable by a human body falling through midair.

It takes roughly 12 seconds to achieve that speed.

Terry never even got close before he collided

with the hardwood of the Schaffers' foyer.

Looking back on that fall semester of senior year,

there was no shortage of traumatizing developments.

The serial killer, or various killers terrorizing our school,

the fracturing of our friend group,

and the untimely deaths of teenagers who had no business dying.

But to this day, the two questions that still beguile

and disturb me the most are:

Who pushed Terry Schaffer over that stairway banister?

And why?

Many people assumed it was me.

Terry had betrayed me.

Not only had he taken advantage of me

at the Beverly Hills Hotel, but I believed then,

as now, that he had videotaped us as some sort of perverse insurance policy.

The truth is, by the night of Debbie's Halloween party,

seemingly everyone had a reason to want Terry Schaffer dead.

Steven had worked loyally for Terry for a decade.

And Terry had repaid him by routinely humiliating him

and thwarting his efforts to produce a movie.

Liz had endured years of Terry's infidelity

and exceedingly sloppy lies about his sexuality.

All the while something malevolent had been gestating inside her.

And the dormancy period was finally over.

Then there was Debbie.

Daddy's little girl had lost faith in the first and only man she'd ever trust.

Her rage was compounded by a profound…

…almost biological hurt.

Susan despised Terry for ruining Debbie's life

and hated him even more for trying to ruin mine.

Susan, I would discover much later, had learned about my secret shame.

Thom had been acting increasingly violent and erratic that year.

And harbored an intense grudge against his own father.

Or any father figure.

And of course, there was Robert, a known psychopath.

The circumstances of his own mother's death

were eerily similar to those of Terry's fall.

From the moment I first looked in his eyes at that matinee of The Shining…

I knew that he possessed the ability and desire to commit unspeakable evil.

We all fantasized about harming Terry.

But only one of us was capable of actually doing it.

I know… I know he… he pulled a hair out of your head.

It was barbaric.

But I am putting together this picture that you, Polanski…

The dream team. It works.

You guys are a magical combination.

Get off the phone.

I'm just talking to Faye Dunaway. Give me a minute.

Fuck Faye Dunaway.

I said get off the phone now.

This is important.

Faye, can I call you back?

Five minutes. Okay, bye.

What?

We suddenly find ourselves in a bit of a pickle, Terry.

Why did you call me that?

- I'm Daddy. - Not anymore.

Or should I say I'm not Daddy's little girl anymore.

I always knew this day would come.

You're pregnant. That's okay.

- We can take care of it. - I'm not pregnant.

I've been practicing the pull-out method since I was 16.

No, no. Don't say that.

Don't talk to me like that.

I did not raise you to speak that way.

I've come across some information about you.

What's that supposed to mean?

Think long and hard about what I could possibly know.

What is the worst thing I could find out about you?

Well…

At long last.

I always suspected.

And I finally found out.

What did you find out?

Are you threatening me?

Let it suffice to say that some information has come

across my pink princess desk that could absolutely be your downfall.

I could tell Mommy.

I could call the studio.

I could call the press, but I've decided I won't.

If, starting today, you give me exactly what I want, what I'm entitled to.

Stop it. Stop it right now.

Or what? You'll ground me?

Has it ever worked? I always snuck out.

You know, I used to resent you so much when you'd get mad at me.

Whenever I lost a contest or a game of Monopoly,

you'd say to me, "Debbie, you are just like your mother."

I knew that was code for loser.

I hated you for that.

But the truth is, I'm more like you than her.

- I always have been. - You are nothing like me.

Like you, Daddy, I'm a killer.

I inherited that quality from you.

I don't like my car.

I want a Ferrari.

I don't want to go to college.

I want to be a star.

And you will arrange a screen test for me

and get me that star-making part.

- Am I clear? - You have no talent.

But I have information.

I am now aware of something that Mommy could never prove.

Look into my eyes.

You know I finally know now.

This is just the beginning of a long list of requests I'll be coming to you with.

Nice talk.

Good times.

What? What do you know?

Tell me right now!

Get your hands off me.

You wouldn't want to bruise your shiniest trophy now, would you?

I know.

I will tell.

It could all go up in a puff of smoke,

and that's your greatest fear, isn't it?

I can't tell you how wonderful it feels

to finally win.

To finally, in the end, get what I want.

How are you?

I'm late for tennis with Debbie.

What did you want to talk about?

I fucked up.

I know that.

- I was too intense. - You threatened me with a knife.

The same week our classmate's severed head was found in a trophy case.

So I picked the wrong week to threaten my girlfriend with a knife.

Thom, this isn't funny.

Is there a connection there, by the way?

Between your obsession with knives and what happened to Matt?

My obsession with knives?

What are you talking about?

You're like a different person lately.

- I don't even know you. - You don't know me?

I know you.

I know you're scared.

I know you need somebody to protect you.

It's what you said.

Kids are dying.

We're not safe in LA. We're surrounded by very, very bad people.

Like Robert.

There's something seriously wrong with him, don't you think?

No, Thom, I don't think.

Because I've never seen Robert do anything half as disturbing

as threatening to slice his veins open with a steak knife.

What's that?

I spoke to the school guidance counselor about you.

She said it can be really hard for teenagers these days

with all the pressures of college applications and divorce.

And the stuff with your dad.

You spoke to somebody about my dad?

You should not have done that, Susan. You really should not have done that.

- Do you understand me? - That.

That is the look in your eyes that makes me wonder what you're capable of.

I have so much to live for.

You.

Our family, our future.

You…

Thom, what the fuck are you doing?

Su…

Thom, I just… I need you to sit back down.

- Susan Marie Reynolds. - Oh.

I want to protect you.

I want to marry you.

I want to hold you in my arms until you fall asleep.

And once you're asleep, I'll stay awake and I'll hold you all night long.

That's the only way that I can be sure that you'll be safe.

Thom, what are you doing on the ground? Did Susan lose an earring?

We are late for tennis, and I have to stop at home to change out my purse.

So let's go.

Think about it.

What the fuck was that?

Thom reminding me why I broke up with him.

Oh, God, our boyfriends suck.

- Ex-boyfriend. - Oh, whatever.

It's senior year. There's no excuse not to have fun.

Especially the week of Halloween. My favorite holiday.

You're right, we could all use a distraction,

but the police have basically canceled everything because of The Trawler.

Much to my relief, The Trawler's gruesome acts

had finally permeated the psyche of my friends.

…the like are gripped in terror as a serial killer known as The Trawler

targets students at an elite prep school in California's San Fernando Valley.

I was no longer some crazy Cassandra spewing hollow warnings.

Now everyone was afraid.

The Trawler murder spree had become national news.

The killer's elevated public profile seemed

to please and maybe even excite him.

It seemed he liked the attention and soon started seeking it out more directly.

In a letter received by the editorial board of the Los Angeles Times,

an individual who identified himself as The Trawler

issued specific and credible threats.

Now the disturbing communiqué promises to, quote, "slaughter all the kiddies

in their costumes going trick-or-treating."

At that point, I had repeatedly told the police

that the person responsible was Robert.

Why were they sitting on the identity of The Trawler?

What strings had Robert's wealthy and well-connected family pulled?

He had already gotten away with murder once back in Chicago.

I was determined now, more than ever,

to not let him get away with it again.

I knew Robert's secret.

The problem was…

He also knew mine.

My plan was to confront him on Halloween.

This time I wouldn't be seduced by his charm.

Or overwhelmed by my own desire.

We were all going to a sort of safe house party,

but I knew none of us would be safe until Robert Mallory

was out of our lives forever.

I'm pretty sure you can guess by now who was throwing the party.

The cops can cancel the West Hollywood Halloween parade,

but they can't stop me from throwing a party.

This event will be the party to end all parties, no expense spared.

Area 54.

What?

Like Studio 54, but in space.

I think we need to watch the kitsch. Okay, Susan?

Studio 54 has been over for, like, months.

This event needs to be elevated. Adult.

We're so late for tennis.

I bought out the whole day.

Or rather, my father did.

God, you've got your dad wrapped around your little finger.

You have no idea.

We could show up whenever we want, or not show up.

It's a sunk cost.

I can't carry a lavender purse with my tennis whites, okay?

The club may allow Jews. It does not allow that.

Liz?

Sometimes she naps here. Says it's the only bed in this house

where Terry hasn't lied to her with his body.

Liz, wake up.

Liz?

How is she?

Dr. Stone is with her now.

I've never seen her like that. Debbie.

Hysterical and then…

Deadly calm.

I-I tried…

I tried to comfort her, but she…

She just pushed me away.

My own daughter pushed me away.

I guess I deserve that.

Well, she's in good hands now.

The…

The horse head?

The police dusted for prints and found nothing.

I cleaned up the mess.

Always do.

Steven, who could have done this?

Something cruel and so violent.

And how could someone just waltz into our home without being seen?

Oh, Liz, the alarm wasn't even set.

Look, I didn't want to tell you this, but the stable,

it was a nightmare.

- Spirit was stabbed repeatedly… - No.

…decapitated, and his hooves are missing.

And again, no fingerprints at the crime scene.

It seems personal, though, doesn't it?

- Strangely personal. - Steven, can I tell you something?

Always.

All Terry has done for the past five years is complain about that fucking horse.

How much it cost to board, the expense of it.

Are you saying Terry did this?

Do you have proof?

Steven, you know this about Terry.

Terry does things.

Bad things.

Terry always gets away with it.

Debbie's resting comfortably.

I gave her a shot of Darvon, and she'll be sleeping until the morning.

Thank you so much, Dr. Stone.

Let me walk you to the door.

Oh… Oh, wait, Dr. Stone…

Since you're here, can I speak with you?

Privately.

I'll leave you two to it.

Dr. Stone, the Klonopin you prescribed me is defective.

Defective?

Yes, it's a bad batch. It doesn't work.

I need a stronger prescription.

Liz, if the Klonopin isn't working, it's because it worked too well too often.

You have to titrate off.

What are you so nervous about?

Tell me.

My husband is a homosexual.

My daughter hates me.

There's a serial killer targeting the glamorous.

Can you give me a shot of whatever you gave Debbie?

Cut!

Mark, what happened?

You have five minutes.

That sounds like a fair trade.

The prime of my life for five minutes of yours.

Fine, ten. What do you want?

What I want…

…is to be clear.

Things are changing between us and quickly.

When you first met me working as a coffee boy

at the Paramount Café, I was fresh off the boat

from San Diego with nothing but a can-do attitude

and a grand vision to take over this town.

You were taken by my impish promptness as I fetched your order.

When you asked if I would come work for you,

I reveled in the Hollywood dream unfolding before my eyes.

But it stopped feeling like a dream a long time ago.

You want a raise?

I think after 12 years, I should want more than a raise.

No.

I want to produce with you.

- I'm sorry? - I want to be your producing partner.

Okay.

Listen, I'm gonna be honest with you.

The eyeliner, the hair, the clothes.

What do they call this look again?

- New Age. - Right.

Steven, you look like a prostitute businesswoman on a spaceship.

If you think I should bring you into a room with Barry Diller or Lew Wasserman

looking like that, then you truly have no idea how this town works.

And it runs much deeper than the clothes.

Look in the mirror, Ms. Terrence Levi Schaffer.

You're not exactly Clint Eastwood yourself.

And if I'm allowed to be honest, you owe half of your success to me.

When was the last time you even read a fucking script?

I do all your coverage and all your dirty work.

- Oh, you're no angel, toots. - You know what I mean.

You're just a puppet with my hand up your ass.

You haven't opened your own mouth in years.

All of your opinions on what's good,

what's bad, what's commercial, who's pliable…

That's all me, baby.

You are still nothing more than a coffee boy, Steven.

Don't push me.

You are this close to being fired. Do you realize that?

I want us to produce Less Than Zero together.

Liz keeps talking about this movie.

Why is everyone so invested in a script from a fucking teenager?

It's a hit.

Trust me.

I'll make it easy on you.

You don't have to do a thing.

Just give me my shot.

One shot.

And if it fails, then you never have to produce with me again.

Well, as tempting of a proposal as that is,

the answer is no.

Oh, one more thing.

Pick up my pants from the dry cleaner's before they close.

Charles.

It's time for some more Bain de Soleil.

You can lift my suit and apply underneath.

The sun's rays can penetrate fabric.

Rub it in.

Okay, that's enough fun for you. Thank you, Charles.

Who was that?

My tanning butler.

It's absurd I never had one before.

I can't believe your dad's letting you get away with that.

Is it because of what happened to Spirit?

I've learned, unfortunately, at this young age,

that there's always a time you have to let go of your childhood dreams.

My father also has a newfound financial devotion to me

for reasons I'd rather not disclose at this time.

I'm happy to see you.

We haven't been leisurely in quite some time.

Why is that?

- I've just been busy. - Oh.

People around us keep getting murdered.

I'll give you that one.

Come on, jump in!

Come here.

What's wrong?

Nothing.

Nothing.

You're soft.

I'm fucking fine. You should be hard as a rock, Bret.

Well, I would be if you stopped putting so much pressure on me.

It's hard to maintain an erection while you're swimming.

It's just a scientific fact.

Are you seeing someone else?

Be honest with me.

I should break up with you. I really should.

I love you. You know how aroused you make me.

I don't know that.

I do know a lot of things.

What does that mean?

It means that…

I'm not holding back anymore.

I'm tired of being half a Debbie.

I'm ready to go all in.

And you have a choice to make.

Are you on my team or not?

You know I want to stay together.

Okay.

If that's the case, then I'm going to enlist your help.

Prom is in seven months.

I'm gonna beat Susan and be prom queen,

and I'm gonna rely on your expertise as a writer to run my campaign.

Daddy's gonna pay for it.

Trust me, Daddy's gonna pay.

And together, we will achieve victory.

I want this. Got it?

Yeah. Okay. I got it.

I also want you to fuck me every Friday and Saturday night,

and no more tummy splash.

You must finish inside me,

and I will inspect myself afterwards to ensure that you did.

Got it?

Charles. Towel.

In that moment,

I could feel the sweat drip down my face,

each bead full of shame and panic.

What did Debbie know?

And who told her?

Unlike Debbie Schaffer, Susan Reynolds was always a good girl.

She got all A's.

She was the first in our circle to know what SPF is.

Her perfect facade was cracking into brittle shards

two months into our senior year.

I observed this from afar,

and it hurt me deeply, this newfound distance.

I'm so, so sorry.

No one should ever have to deal with that, some fucking horse head in a bed.

Who do you think did it?

I don't know.

But I felt like I was living in one of those horror movies

that Bret used to drag me to.

I don't even like those kinds of movies.

I like love stories.

Me too.

I used to be the one that she poured her heart out to.

But not anymore.

Now she turned exclusively to Robert Mallory.

It wasn't until years later, after all the death and tragedy,

that I learned how Robert had wormed his way into her confidence.

Thom is just… He's not the same.

He's changed. He's…

Erratic.

Yeah.

- Yeah. - Yeah.

Once when we were drunk, he told me,

"Susan, if I can't have you, then nobody else can."

You're not a possession.

I know.

Yeah, and Bret is…

Bret's just…

He's different now. I don't feel like I can trust him.

Why not?

I don't know why I'm telling you this, but…

…at the stables, right before school started,

Bret said that Spirit was stupid.

He hated that horse.

Like he was jealous?

Yeah.

The web Robert Mallory weaved around Susan,

I found out in time,

was based on a simple rule of manipulation only a sociopath would know at 18.

Never demand.

Never push too hard.

Let them come to you.

Always let them come to you first.

Yeah.

A little bit…

Susan, it pains me to say this,

but… I think you have to acknowledge that you might have outgrown your friends.

But I love them.

People change, you know.

And this is the kind of time when it starts to happen.

- Bret hates me. I know. - Yeah.

He's jealous or something.

And Thom and I have…

A complicated relationship.

Why is it complicated?

Because we're both in love with the same girl.

We shouldn't rush into anything, you know? We should be cool.

I know you don't want to hurt anyone, and I don't either.

But the future is so bright.

It's right over the horizon, waiting for us.

If we both want it.

That fateful night,

before the most terrifying event of her life occurred,

Susan Reynolds went to bed feeling what she hadn't felt for months.

Peace.

And then that feeling of safety was shattered.

Hello.

Let me in, let me in! Come on!

It's Thom!

Thom?

Hey. Hey. Hey. It's okay, it's okay.

- It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. - No. No!

I was worried about you.

I was watching you from outside and I saw him.

I saw him attacking you, so I broke in, and I raced up and I fought him.

I fought him off. Look, I fought him off.

What… What… What… What happened?

I pushed him. I pushed him off the balcony.

Where is he?

I don't know.

Debbie had somehow persuaded her father

to throw her the most epic Halloween party of all time.

The theme of the event was "Unmasked," which was ironic,

because by the end of the night,

many, if not all, of our secrets were going to come out.

Debbie demanded we all wear no masks and black tie.

So I rented one.

I remember the cavernous emptiness of my house that afternoon.

It was the first time since I was a little kid

that I remember missing my father.

My father used to tie my bow ties for school dances.

It was a skill to this day I have not mastered.

Standing there in my bedroom,

hours away from my first real adult black-tie party,

I had never felt so old.

I had also never felt so vulnerable.

Trick-or-treating in sixth grade with the gang

felt like a dream from a past life.

Trick or treat!

I was homesick for a time and place that didn't exist anymore.

And would never exist again.

The only thing I can't figure out

is how you got out of that killer costume so fast.

How can you say that?

It wasn't me. I rescued you.

I know it was you, Thom.

And I haven't told anyone because I have been trying to protect you.

Even now.

But, tonight, that all ends.

I know it was you, Steven.

I know you're the one who videotaped me.

Trick or treat, dumpling.

What do you say to a quick dip in the Jacuzzi out in the dojo?

Never say no to a hot tub.

I wanna say…

I'm sorry.

I know you loved that horse.

I understand what he meant to you.

And I promise that we will find out who did that to him.

We all know Daddy did it.

Or his insurance company.

Daddy's much darker than you think.

I wanna say I'm sorry too.

I understand now just how much you've gone through

over the years.

How difficult it must have been keeping so many secrets.

Your hair's wet.

- Were you in the hot tub? - Yeah.

It was all quite… enlightening.

Informative.

Let me help you.

I think we should talk…

About what happened between us.

What happened between us?

You know…

You came over.

What the fuck are you talking about?

God. So cliché.

Straight guy pretends that it never happened.

Okay, dude.

You were never in my bed just like you were never at The Shining.

You're obsessed with me, and I'm tired of it.

Who cares if I saw some movie a year ago?

I do, Robert.

- So did Katherine Latchford. - Who?

The girl that you saw it with and then murdered.

I met your aunt. She told me.

My aunt? Auntie Abby? She's a depressive alcoholic.

She asked to meet with me and told me everything.

You were at The Shining that day. She said you were dangerous.

She said that you were a fucking psycho.

You know, everything that I ever suspected about you, Robert, turned out to be true.

Everything.

You killed Katherine Latchford, and Matt Kellner,

and your mom, and probably many, many others.

My aunt barely has the coherence to cash her alimony checks.

Listen. Look, Bret,

I have empathy for you.

You're struggling with your sexuality.

And from what I've read, Death in Venice, among other things,

that's some really heavy shit.

I feel bad for you.

I really do.

You have to get over this little crush that you have on me.

I hope you find somebody. Really, I do.

And now that I have Susan, I know how important it is.

You know, love.

What are you talking about?

Susan and I are together.

She's with me.

Not Thom, not you.

Bullshit.

That's bullshit. That…

I won't let that happen. You will not have Susan.

- I will die before I let that happen. - Do you promise?

You know what, Robert? You should know, it's over.

You're done.

I have a meeting with the detectives tomorrow

to tell them everything I know about you.

The Katherine Latchford story.

Everything.

Congratulations.

You're about to join Ted Bundy

in the handsome serial killer hall of fame.

Let me go to the police with you tomorrow, Bret.

There's some things I'd like to share with them about you.

Get your hands off of me.

I called your father's place of work

to inquire about his mysterious months-long disappearance.

- They're on vacation. You know that. - Really?

'Cause they told me he never told them he was going on vacation.

One day, he just didn't show up.

They presumed he quit.

Is he on a permanent getaway with your mother in the basement, Bret?

Did you hack them to pieces

and store them down there with the root vegetables?

Did you bury them in the backyard? Did you kill them?

Fuck you! That's a lie.

I think you're sick!

You're a sad, little novelist with writer's block.

You're killing all these kids and trying to frame it on me.

That way, you can write what you know.

Quite the bestseller in the making. You can finish it in prison.

What's going on here?

Hey, babe.

I was just helping Bret with his bow tie.

Bret, can I talk to you for a minute?

No, that's okay, babe. I think I'm all caught up.

Guys, hop to it. Oingo Boingo's already started their second encore.

Hello.

Fine.

What do you want?

Susan and Robert were perhaps the first teenagers in history

to have their first kiss interrupted by a scream heralding an attempted murder.

Oh, my God!

- Is he dead? - Looks that way.

Looks like he slipped.

Or crossed the wrong person.

Daddy. Daddy, can you breathe?

Please. Somebody call the police!

Do something!

Daddy, can you hear me?

Wait here.

Did you get any candy?

What?

At the Halloween party.

I didn't see so much as a single M&M, which was a total bummer.

- Did you? - Do you think you're being funny?

I'm sick of your sociopathic act, Robert.

Terry Schaffer's on life support. He could die.

- Let me guess. You think I pushed him. - Yeah, I do.

Ever since you got to this town, everything has gone sideways.

My theory?

Little birdie told me Terry optioned your treatment.

Is that true?

Yeah. So?

What did you have to do to get your big Hollywood break, Bret?

I'm guessing… dark things.

Things you regret.

Things you resent.

What time is your appointment?

Why?

No reason.

I just hope I go first.

My evidence is indisputable. You will be going away in handcuffs.

If you go first, it's gonna be nothing more

than a giant waste of everybody's time.

I don't think so.

I think if I go first, you'll be hauled off to jail,

and then, inevitably, comes the death penalty.

- For what exactly? - You ready?

Yeah.

- Well, follow me. - Which one of us?

Both.

Now.

What I didn't know then was that life was about to cleave

into a before and an after.

And not just my life or Robert's,

but all of us.

Sit.

- Officers, I have some information about... - Just a moment, kid.

We're gonna get to individual interviews in just a minute.

We've come into possession of some evidence

pertaining to the murders of Katherine Latchford,

Matt Kellner, and the kidnapping of Rhonda Fox.

What… What sort of evidence?

We believe all these crimes are connected.

Committed by the same individual.

And that individual is…

Is someone in this room.

I knew it.

And that's when things…

…really got crazy.