Original subtitles

[dramatic tone]

[brush scrubbing]

- [crying] - Shh.

[eerie string music]

♪

You're being too rough!

- Those animals are full of diseases!

- What happened?

- I want to take her to the doctor now.

I want to get her tested for Lyme and rabies.

They say that Lyme can cause psychological issues.

- She's fine.

- She was eating a dead rabbit, Harry!

[tense music]

Her face was in it, just sucking out the blood!

♪

[banging on door]

- Chief, how can I help you?

- This is awkward...

But we received some complaints about your daughter.

Some people called in to say they saw her

covered in blood at the cemetery,

then walking down the street with Mrs. Gardener.

[floorboard creaks]

I'd like to bring her back to my office

so I can speak with her.

- Without us?

- She'll be safe.

- Okay, is this really necessary?

[ominous music]

- I've got bodies washing up on the shore--

more under the Dick Dock.

I'm hearing reports of murders up and down the cape,

all the victims torn apart.

Now, I know I'm just a small-town police chief

and I'm supposed to be a dumb fuck,

but there's one thing I'm pretty certain about:

there's a dead rabbit in the cemetery

that looks a lot like the dead hustler

we found on the beach this morning.

And your daughter doesn't appear to have

any cuts on her face.

- Alma is nine years old.

She didn't murder a hustler on the beach.

- I know.

I just need to ask her some questions

to see if she has any idea who did.

Away from the both of you.

- Daddy, tell her it's okay, please!

- [gasps] - Doris!

[thudding]

- No, no. - Honey!

- Call an ambulance.

- No.

[indistinct radio chatter]

[anxious string music]

- The baby's okay.

They were false contractions brought on by stress.

But your heart rate and BP are still pretty elevated.

- Can we leave?

- We want you to stay with us a few nights.

- [sighs]

Well, how many? - Four or five.

- What? Why?

- Alma, why don't you go get something

from the vending machine, okay?

Go on.

[ominous music]

♪

[heartbeat thumping]

♪

[muffled] Honey.

[clearly] Honey.

It's that way.

[monitor beeps]

- Your OB said you've had two miscarriages.

The last one was at five months.

Everything looks fine at the moment,

but we all agree you should be extra cautious.

- Thank you, Doctor.

Being in P-town does cause you nothing but anxiety.

- Fine, but I want you and Alma to stay down here too.

- What, in Hyannis? - Yes, in Hyannis.

Get a motel or something.

- I'll bring Alma back to New York.

We'll leave P-town.

For real. - For real?

Okay. - For real.

- Okay. Thank you. Thank you.

I love you.

- I love you.

- [sighs, sniffles]

[exhales heavily]

♪

- We're going east.

New York is west.

♪

- Mommy needs to relax.

- So you lied to her?

- I told her what she needed to hear.

- And what about the police chief?

- I'm gonna call and tell her

that she almost made your mom lose the baby

and she should back off unless she wants a lawsuit.

When did you take it?

♪

The pill.

- The other night.

I couldn't get Paganini right.

And now it feels so easy.

I think that there are people

that are really good at something...

And then there's everybody else.

I feel like everybody else could just disappear one day

and it wouldn't matter.

- [sighs]

Me too.

♪

That's what happened to those pale people.

They took the pills, but they didn't have any talent,

so they turned into nothing.

But you were great already.

You didn't need to take the pills.

- But I don't want to be great.

I want to be the greatest.

- [chuckles]

- I didn't mind eating the bunny.

- But what happens when bunnies aren't enough for you?

[eerie music]

- Did you do that to the man at the dock

that the police chief was talking about?

♪

I don't know if I could do that.

- That's the price of being the greatest.

Alma, I'm worried that I'm not being a good father to you,

that I'm letting you do this because of my own ego.

I want you to stop taking them.

- What if it doesn't work without them?

- I told you, you were great already.

And now you know how it feels to play at your full potential.

It might be harder to get there without the pill,

but I know you can do it.

- Fine.

But then you have to stop too.

[music intensifies]

[chilling music]

♪

[ominous string music]

[clock ticking]

[eerie music]

♪

[music intensifies]

♪

[lilting piano music]

♪

- Steak, very rare.

- Same.

- Okay.

- [inhales sharply]

[exhales heavily]

I haven't always been the best dad to you.

I work too much,

and my own father was a real piece of garbage,

so I have terrible parenting instincts.

But I'm gonna be really hands-on with this stuff,

because it's different for me.

I can write for three months

and stockpile scripts and paychecks

and then not take the pills for the rest of the year.

You have to play all the time,

do live performances year-round.

You can't go off them for any long stretch.

- I don't mind. - [sighs]

- I feel better on them.

You're still growing.

I mean, we don't know how this will affect

your physical development.

We're gonna have to get you tested all the time

to make sure you're growing normally

as a woman.

- I don't care.

I don't want to have children or get married.

All I want to do is play music.

What will we tell Mom?

- I love your mom,

but this is just stuff she wouldn't understand.

It's best we keep it from her.

- Why are we still with her?

[ominous music]

- What do you mean?

- She's not a great mom or a great wife.

And her designing stuff is kind of lame.

We don't need her.

- Don't say that.

She's your mother and we love her.

And she loves us. That matters.

The most important thing

is that you never go get your own blood.

I'll bring it to you.

- What about when I turn 18?

- Never.

It's too risky.

What if you got caught?

If someone's gonna get in trouble for this,

it's gotta be me.

I owe you that...

as a father.

- Okay.

Thanks.

♪

[sighs]

[eerie music]

Dad?

- Yes, honey?

- I'm hungry now.

- At the intersection ahead, turn left.

Continue for two miles,

and your destination will be on the right.

[tense, eerie music]

♪

[knocking]

♪

- Hi, I'm--I'm Harry.

I called about the bicycle and the Blu-ray player.

- Are you a cop?

- No, no.

I'm a writer.

Uh, television mostly.

Anything I've seen? - Probably not.

Do you mind if I come in?

It's pretty cold.

- Show me your ID.

- Uh-- - I'm a woman alone

letting a strange man into my home.

- Okay.

[ominous music]

♪

- Thanks.

♪

- You want a beer?

- No, thanks.

♪

- You're cute.

You want a BJ? - No, I'm sorry.

- I wasn't taking it personally.

- No, I'm just--

I'm really sorry.

- [whistling]

[eerie music]

♪

- Ow, fuck.

[grunts]

♪

[knob clicking]

♪

What the fuck?

[tense music]

[glass shatters]

- Hey!

Dude!

- What the fuck?

- Do I come to your home and break shit?

- Shit for brains, it's nothing.

Come over and finish setting this up.

- What the fuck?

What do you want?

- Viagra. Take it.

- Why?

- Look, man...

you're gonna die tonight,

and some of it's gonna be pretty painful.

Tony has a ten-inch dick,

and it's the only ten inches of him worth shit.

And he's gonna fuck your ass until you rosebud for camera.

- That's where your asshole goes from being an innie

to being an outie.

- Honestly, I don't get it either.

But apparently, guys that pay for these types of movies

go nuts for it. - What the fuck?

- First I thought, "Snuff film--

all that matters is the snuff."

Maybe it was like that in the old days.

Now buyers want some action before the money shot.

And the Viagra

is so you can fuck me while he's fucking you.

- It's a daisy chain.

- I don't think that's what it's called.

I think there's a different term for it.

Do you know what it is? - No.

- You said you were a TV writer.

- Oh, yeah?

Anything I would have seen?

- My point is that I'm giving you a chance

to have a little bit of pleasure

in your last moments on Earth.

And it also... [inhales deeply]

Turns me the fuck on.

♪

- Take the pill.

Take it.

[tapping] Take it!

- Okay, okay.

♪

- All right.

[lock clicking]

Now, come on.

Slow.

Slow.

Come on, right through here.

♪

There you go.

Get-- - [grunts]

- Yeah. Ooh.

- Shit, did you charge the battery?

- Fuck!

- What the fuck, Tony?

I'm trying to run a business.

I always have to do everything myself.

You did the same thing last week.

- Well, now, hold on. Hold on. Hold on.

- You're so fucking useless.

- [grunts]

- It's this one.

[camcorder beeps] Boom.

- [laughs breathily]

[exhales heavily]

Hey, y'all.

We got a pretty one for you tonight.

Clean and high-class.

Tony here is gonna go in

dry and raw.

- [yells] - [shouts]

- [grunts]

- [yells]

[screaming]

[gurgling]

- What the fuck?

[grunting, shouting]

[gunshot] [grunts]

[gunshot]

♪

- [choking]

- She made me do it, man!

[shouts]

- No, you're not running anywhere.

- I want to finish eating.

But you?

I'm gonna let you bleed out slow.

- [groans]

[music intensifies]

[silverware clinking softly]

[eerie music]

♪

[exhales heavily]

- Whose is it?

- No one that anyone's gonna miss.

[slow, eerie string music]

♪

[music intensifies]

[eerie string music]

♪

[doorbell rings]

- Shit.

- Surprise.

- [laughs] Hey! - [laughs]

- What are you doing here?

- Hey, did you cut yourself?

- Oh, uh, no.

It's, uh, spaghetti with red sauce.

- [shudders] For breakfast?

- Um, yeah.

Well, see...

Doris is on bedrest in the hospital in Hyannis,

so I'm kind of playing Mom and Dad here.

It was either spaghetti or cookies,

so I chose spaghetti.

- Oh, no. Is she gonna be okay? And the baby?

- She's fine. It's just--it's a precaution.

- Oh, good, okay.

'Cause I didn't come all this way

to deal with emotional shit.

You know, you want that, get a manager.

Anyway, I was in New York, and I was seeing some shows,

and I thought I would hop on over here and check on you.

And no one told me what an enormous

pain in the ass it is to come out here.

- I think there's a ferry you can take from Boston.

You just drive your car right on.

- Oh, no, no, I don't like to ride

in vehicles that carry other vehicles.

It just-- it does not feel right to me.

So on my very long drive out here,

I got a call about you

from one Quentin Tarantino.

- What? - He wants you

to write his first limited series.

It's already greenlit at Hulu, sight unseen.

- What? [chuckles]

Oh, my God.

No, no, Quentin writes everything himself.

- Up until now.

But he said-- and I quote--

"That motherfucker is a better writer than I am."

- [laughs]

- And then he said something

about how he just got married

and so it's harder for him to do

what he has to do to write things

and that you would understand what that means

and why he wants you to write it.

[eerie whooshing]

- Wow.

That's incredible.

- It is cute in here, Harry.

- You know, you really didn't have to come all this way

just to tell me that.

- Oh, well, it wasn't just for that.

- [clears throat] - You have changed

since you've come out here, Harry.

Yes, your writing is different.

And it's not just a change of scenery.

It is inspired.

And I wanted to come out here

and see what's so special about this place.

- It's nothing mysterious.

It's just, uh-- it's just so quiet, you know?

A-a-and the architectural board's

really strict about what you can build here,

so, um,

it feels really old and natural and untouched.

- Oh.

- You know, so many artists have come out here

to find their muse.

Uh, Eugene O'Neil,

uh, Melville...

Painters.

- Daddy!

I'm hungry again!

- Growth spurt.

- I'll leave you to it.

I am going to the Land's End.

I'm gonna get a room for a couple days.

But don't worry, I'm not gonna bother you.

But, oh, you do have to tell me where I should eat.

- There's a place called The Muse.

It's the only restaurant open.

[violin music playing]

- Wow, she is getting really good.

♪

- Ursula...

[door slams] Careful around town.

They've developed a little drug problem,

and it's not really safe to walk around alone at night.

- It's okay, I got mace.

[ominous music]

[car door clicks open]

♪

[car door slams, engine turning over]

[eerie music]

♪

["Too Much, Too Little, Too Late" playing on piano]

♪

[microphone feedback whines]

- ♪ Guess it's over

♪ Call it a day

♪ Sorry that it had to end this way ♪

♪ No reason to pretend

♪ We knew it had to end

♪ Someday

♪ This way, hey, hey

- ♪ Guess it's over

♪ The kids are gone

♪ What's the use of trying

♪ To hang on

♪ Somewhere we lost the key

♪ So little left for you and me ♪

♪ And it's clear to see

both: ♪ Too much, too little, too late ♪

♪ To lie again with you

- [sighs]

Do they have to keep doing that?

Hello. What are you, a mute?

Some of us are trying

to enjoy our meals in peace. [microphone feedback whines]

God, if I wanted to listen... [music stops]

To a shitty Captain & Tennille cover band,

I would have just killed myself,

because I'm sure that's what's playing

on an infinite loop in hell.

[dissonant music]

[microphone feedback whines]

♪

- [snapping]

♪

You're new in town.

Just passing through?

- Yeah.

And please, don't give me any

locals-versus-outsiders bullshit

like this is some kind of secret Maui surf break.

- This isn't that kind of town.

According to the locals,

unless your family came over on the "Mayflower"

or launched off Falmouth to hunt a whale or two,

you will always be an outsider.

- We're all just passing through.

[music darkens]

♪

Hope to see you around.

You look sweet.

- [snapping]

- [softly] What the fuck?

♪

- Can I buy you a drink?

- You're not my type.

I like my men with considerably darker complexions

and a lot less meth running through their veins.

[silverware clatters]

Okay.

Scuse me. Scuse me.

Just please--thank you.

Thank you.

[scoffs]

♪

[wind blowing]

[eerie tone]

[seagulls calling]

- Hey. - Oh, God.

- Uh, no, don't worry.

I'm not trying to pick you up or anything.

I'm just, uh--

I'm friends with the bellboy at the Land's End,

and he told me that you're an agent from Los Angeles.

I'm a--I'm a writer. - [scoffs]

Honey, you have a better chance

of me fucking you than signing you,

and I'd have to be in a coma for either to be a possibility.

- Look, I--I just want you to read a script.

Okay, I mean, I heard most people say

that you can tell if somebody's good

just in the first ten pages.

- Oh, Jesus Christ, a spec script?

I'm assuming it's the first script you've ever written?

- Uh, it's the first one I finished.

But I finished, like, four more in just the last couple days.

- Really?

Well, that's pretty prolific.

Were you in some kind of meth haze?

- I haven't smoked since I started writing them.

- Just inspired by the quiet

and the consistent architecture?

Fine, just give me the scripts, okay?

I'll read them tonight, or I'll use them

for kindling in my fireplace. Let's go.

- Uh, here. - Oh, really?

- Thank you.

Also, can you just not burn them, please?

- Okay, goodbye. - Okay.

- Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

- [grunts] Shit, yeah!

[lilting piano music]

♪

- Ugh.

♪

[sighs]

♪

When's the last time you got high?

- Few days ago?

And the last time you had a job--

besides sucking dick?

- [chuckles]

No. - [laughs]

- I'm blonde, not dumb.

Strung-out meth heads who only bathe when it rains

do not write $3-million screenplays

like the ones you just gave me.

Now, you can throw Charles Bukowski

and Hunter S. Thompson at me all you want,

but those guys are the exception.

- Well, maybe there's a bunch of talented people out there

that just haven't been discovered yet.

- Hmm, bullshit.

There are fewer talented writers in the world

than there are astronauts.

There's a few great ones, a lot of terrible ones,

and a pack of interchangeable ones

who move from one network writer's room to the next.

My client Harry was one of those writers

until he arrived here.

And now he's Mark fucking Twain.

And I know who Peaches and Cream were

on the piano last night.

I was in the audience last year when Austin won two Tonys,

and I've rubbed a few out to the romance novels

that Belle's written when the, uh, Wi-Fi went down.

And now,

suddenly, the town's resident meth head fuckwheel

is writing movies that could go into production

without a rewrite.

Sorry, homeboy, but there is something weird

going on out here,

and I want to know what it is.

You guys sell your souls to the devil?

Aliens? Uh, little writer elves?

Because honestly, I would believe any of that

besides that you're actually that talented.

- There's a pill.

[ominous music]

And if you have any kind of talent when you take it,

everything turns out great.

- And you know that Harry and Belle and Austin

have all taken these pills?

- Belle and Austin, I know.

Uh, I stole the pills from Belle.

- I need you to steal me more,

and I want access to the source.

I could leave and start my own boutique agency

if I was the pipeline to Hollywood for those pills.

- You don't understand. See, it's--

it's really fucked up,

what happens when you take them.

- I represent the producers of "The Bachelor."

Fucked up is my bread and butter.

Now, go get me those pills,

or these scripts that you gave me

go right into the garbage.

[music intensifies]

♪

[disquieting music]

♪

♪

- Hey, sweetheart.

We're here about the coin collection.

- Yeah?

- Well, hot dog.

It's a goddamn buffet. - [chuckles]

[snapping] - [chuckles]

[wet slurping]

[gasping]

[eerie music]

♪

- [moaning, slurping]

♪

- [gasping]

[grunts]

♪

[grunts]

[dissonant string music]

[grunts]

♪

[grunts]

[gurgles, chokes]

♪

- That's a new technique.

- Finish up. I'm on a deadline.

[whispers indistinctly]

[gearshift clicks]

- Why did we stop?

[tense music]

- Who's the blood for, Harry?

♪

- Alma.

My daughter. - What?

- You gotta be shitting me.

- How old is she?

- Nine.

- Are you out of your fucking mind?

- She snuck one when I wasn't there.

- Oh, you see, Austin?

He's not a bad parent, just an absent one.

- She's more talented than the three of us put together.

- I don't care if your kid is the next Mozart.

I'm not leaving my future

and the next three books I'm contracted to write

in her little girl hands.

- What do you want me to do about it?

- No more pills for her, Harry...

ever.

- Don't fuck with us on this, darling.

I write some of my best stuff

when I've fed on young, pure blood.

- [chuckles]

- Okay.

I hear you.

♪

- Good.

[engine revs]

[haunting music]

♪

[eerie music]

♪

- He's leaving us no choice.

- I agree.

He has to die.

- ♪ And the daughter

♪

- I hear they're delicious.

♪

[ominous music]

♪

- Ah, I'd just keep walking if I were you.

I've been here two hours,

and all the action I've seen is a couple of seagulls

fighting over a dead cusk fish.

What's up with you, Mickey?

You jonesin'?

♪

I'm not carrying.

♪

[music intensifies]

♪

The fuck?

[both grunting]

The fuck, Mickey?

You think you could steal from me?

I could bench-press your whole fucking family,

you skinny little prick tweaker.

[shouts]

♪

- [gasping]

♪

- Stay down!

[shouts]

[grunts]

♪

- [gasps]

How'd you get in here?

- No locks on your door.

Makes sense,

since the only thing anyone's going to get

if they break in here is syphilis.

I've written whole books that take place in hovels

and shitholes and backwaters.

But even in my impressive imagination--

one that I admit is prone to exaggeration now and again--

I've never pictured a more inhospitable home

than yours, Mickey.

How do you not just wake up and kill yourself every day?

- I'm gonna go clean up.

- It's my job to make life miserable for my characters.

The harder I am on them,

the better the story,

the more books I sell.

But in real life, I like things easy,

smooth, in apple-pie order.

This winter, all of that has just gone to hell.

These pills are getting passed around

like Jolly Ranchers at a rave.

- Look.

I'm sorry I stole the pills.

But look at me--

I'm not one of those pale people out there.

I'm good.

There's a Hollywood agent--

loves my scripts, loves them.

I'm one of you now.

- Honey,

you're a paper airplane and I'm a 747.

Don't you ever think you're anything like me

just because you can fly a little.

Still...

professional courtesy must be paid.

Every time you kill,

you bring me back a warm thermos or two.

- You have to get me the thermos.

- Your poverty offends me.

One more thing.

Your first kill's gotta be that Hollywood agent.

Make her plead for her life.

Make her beg for mercy,

then take her.

I don't like it when people criticize my singing.

[tense music]

♪

- Got another one.

[indistinct radio chatter]

- Found a witness.

Said it was a one-on-one thing.

- Oh.

Yeah. [inhales sharply]

Oh, I saw the whole thing.

I was too far down the beach to actually see his face,

but this was, you know, clear as day.

This is a gay-bashing incident.

- What were you doing on the beach?

- Feeling the colors.

I'm Holden Vaughn.

I'm the interior designer

for almost every chic house in this town.

When I'm looking to get inspired,

I like to go down to the beach and feel the colors.

The color of the waves,

of the--of the sky, of the sand.

- What do colors feel like?

- What does love feel like?

What does Mahler feel like?

What does the perfect Jean Prouvé chair feel like?

Darling, if you have to ask,

you wouldn't understand.

- Sorry for not knowing who you are.

It's my first winter here. - It's all right.

I usually come up here in the summertime,

but my favorite greyhound, Marley,

passed away in my Manhattan town house,

and I can't go back there

until I have an appropriate period of mourning.

I like it here, though, in the winter.

It's quieter.

Except for those pale, strange homeless creatures

wearing the AIDS-era couture.

- Would you be willing to come to the office

and make a statement? - No.

I just made one.

[eerie tone]

[seagulls calling]

[intense, eerie music]

♪

[door creaking]

[suspenseful music]

♪

- Are you here to murder me and drink my blood?

- I don't want to.

I mean, you seem real cool.

Actually, could you recommend any of your colleagues to me?

'Cause I really don't want this messing up

any kind of career momentum I have right now.

- Sure, but I don't know if they'd be able

to get you that gig rewriting the remake of "Speed Racer."

- You're fucking with me, right?

"Speed Racer" is, like, the voice of my generation.

I--I love that show.

I mean, I used to turn over two chairs when I was a kid

and, uh, I'd pretend I was Speed Racer

and my teddy bear would be Chim Chim.

I mean, I actually named my teddy bear Chim Chim.

- Yeah, whatever, it's all nerd porn

as far as I'm concerned.

But they're making it again,

and I submitted your script to the studio.

And they wanted to hire you right on the spot.

- I can't believe this is real.

I feel like I'm dreaming.

People want to pay me for my writing?

I'm, like, uh-- like, someone now.

- Well, not if you murder me.

But I want more than just mercy.

"Speed Racer" is worth more than that.

I want the source.

Someone is making those pills,

and I want to meet them.

- Well, I, uh--

I don't know anything about that.

- You're such a fucking liar, Mickey.

[soft music]

- There's a chemist.

I know where their house is, but look,

there's two rules when you're out here, right?

Never steal lobsters out of another man's pot,

and never go near that house.

- Well, that chemist is gonna want to see me.

I'm gonna make them very rich.

♪

[sighs]

Can you close the door on your way out, please?

♪

[music darkens]

♪

[dramatic music]

♪

[haunting string music]

♪

[tense music]

- You look like an Avon lady.

And you look like an asshole.

I'm not interested in either.

- Uh--

I'm not selling cosmetics. I'm selling scale.

- And I'ma sell my foot in your ass

if you don't get the hell out of here.

Actually, forget selling.

I'll give it to you for free.

- Okay, that's fine. You can kick us out.

I'm happy to go to the police and tell them

to come have a chat with you about your work.

I just need five minutes.

♪

[ice rattling]

- I don't like strangers.

That's why I moved out here

to the very tip of Massachusetts' dick

so I don't have to deal with people I don't know.

- Well, we can't be responsible for everyone

who knocks on your door.

- What did she want?

- She offered me a deal.

- Don't you think you should make more than just

what all these parasites are paying for your pills?

- You're making them millions.

Don't you think you should get a percentage?

- And how am I supposed to do that?

I don't have a real strong accounting infrastructure,

in case you haven't noticed.

- That's my job, sweetie.

All you have to do is get me as many pills as I need.

How did you invent them, by the way, if I may ask?

- You may not.

It's a proprietary recipe.

It's not patented or anything like that.

It's not even written down.

So good luck trying to steal it from me.

- She could hire a lab to reverse engineer them.

- It might tell her the ingredients,

but it won't tell her how I cooked them up.

- Do I look like I want to get into manufacturing?

I make deals and I make kings.

We don't even have to include

the people you're already supplying.

You let me pick 15, 20 writers off my client list,

and I'll get you an exclusive deal with them.

You'll get 10% of their post-pill earnings,

plus back end.

You will be the richest woman in Cape Cod.

- Not a bad deal.

Did you take it?

- No.

I told you, I don't like strangers.

I like things the way they are.

I like things chill.

That bitch is so far from chill.

And if you don't do something about her,

I'm not giving either one of you one more pill.

- We can't have that.

What do you want us to do?

- She's gotta die.

Her and that tweaker boytoy of hers.

And that Hollywood asshole who brought her here.

- What about his wife and kid?

- [sighs]

Fuck.

Kill them too.

♪

- Thanks for doing this, Ursula.

Doris has just been alone a long time.

I'm just gonna check on her and come right back.

Few hours max.

- Well, I have a four-hour minimum when I babysit

and I am very expensive.

Don't worry, we're gonna be fine.

I'll teach her how to play gin rummy.

- Great.

I'm hungry.

- [exhales heavily]

- Hey, Alma.

I would love to have a proper hang,

but I'm exhausted.

I'm just gonna run upstairs and have a quick nap

and then we can hang out, okay?

You are studying too much.

Go on TikTok or whatever the kids are doing.

[suspenseful music]

♪

[doorbell rings]

- Hey, honey.

Can I come in and talk to you for a little bit?

Alma's such a pretty name.

So old-fashioned.

Your mom's is too.

Doris.

What's that about?

♪

Nostalgia, I guess.

I know what's going on around here, Alma.

I don't understand it.

And I don't think it started with you and your father,

but I know you're involved.

There are murders happening up and down the Cape.

Addicts,

hustlers,

people who won't be missed.

People who no one asks too many questions about

once they're gone.

But they're still people, Alma.

They had mothers,

families who cared about them once.

You're a child, so I don't hold you responsible.

But I want to understand.

Why?

Is it a cult?

Do you have some kind of blood disease?

- Did you ever have a dream?

- I wanted to be the first female army ranger.

[chuckles]

But I was about ten years too early.

- When you were at war,

did you kill people?

- They were the enemy.

That's not murder.

- How many would you have killed

to become a ranger?

♪

I bet you would have killed everyone in the whole country.

♪

- I'm gonna take you down

to the police station now, Alma.

And when your dad comes to get you,

I'm going to arrest him.

[music intensifies]

Now, please, make this easy on the both of us.

[heartbeat thumping]

[gasps]

♪

[keys jingle]

[eerie music]

♪

- Rummy. - [gasps]

[laughs]

- Hi, Daddy.

I learned how to play gin rummy.

♪

- Grab a drink, Harry.

We need to talk.

- Rummy.

[music intensifies]

[haunting string music]

♪