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What are you doing today?

I don't know. Does it matter?

You ought to be out looking for a job.

I told you I'm trying. There's no fucking jobs in this town.

Believe me, I want to get out of here.

I'm sure the two of you will find a way to never let that happen.

But Johnny, don't you appreciate living here with us?

No. I fucking don't/

And I hate that you're always telling me what I should do.

I'm an adult. I can decide things for myself.

(laughter)

Johnny, you need us. You can't leave.

Can you stop being so condescending?

Do you even know what condescending means?

I'm out of here.

Good. Maybe you can go find a job.

Johnny, don't leave. Get back here.

Death by a thousand cuts refers to

to an ancient method of torture, in which

numerous small cuts were made on a victim's body.

None of the cuts were deadly by themselves

but the combination of them would cause the victim

to die a slow, painful death.

In psychology, the term refers

to small issue that are over-looked

until they add up to something too big

to ignore.

Sometimes I question

which version of the phrase

is worse.

And back to you, Tim.

And thank you for that, Eileen.

And now we will bring you Earl Zachary Kurtz,

with the devastating story of yet

another missing person in our community.

Police efforts are little consolation,

disappearances in the
Police efforts are little consolation,

Where twenty three year old
disappearances in the

Where twenty three year old

Christine Gray has gone missing.

Another victim in a string of

in the area.

She was last seen under this overpass,

where she was socializing with

her friends on

Thursday night.

We reached out to her parents

who are urging anyone

who may have information about her disappearance

to please come forward.

We just want our daughter back.

We know she's out there somewhere

and we want her to come home.

We're just asking anyone who

may have seen of heard anything

to please come forward.

I beg you, please.

Please.

Local police have no leads at this time.

Which leave us all wondering,

who could do something so evil?

Thank you for that

disturbing report.

We hope that she is found

and returned home safely.

I'm going out.

Make sure you bring a jacket.

And in other news

For me,

life is like a

party I wasn't invited to.

Occasionally I meet people, and

sometimes convince myself they're my friends,

but in the end,

there's just this sense, that

I don't belong.

And eventually they'll all figure that out,

and then they'll all turn on me.

Johnny,

I've known you since you were a child.

You have your issues,

just like everybody else has their issues.

But there are people that love you.

People that care for you.

Like your parents.

They love you.

My parents wish I was dead.

Just like everybody else.

Sometimes I feel like everyone in

my life is trying to make me miserable.

That's not true.

You're the only person I have left to talk to

and I have to pay you for it.

Johnny, come on.

You know the graveyard at the edge of town?

My parents have a family plot there.

There's a spot for me.

So?

So I'll be buried next to my parents.

Who are buried next to their parents. And they're parents.

Everyone just lives and dies in this town.

Nobody ever escapes.

There's no greater purpose.

I can assure you, you have a greater purpose.

There's a church next to the cemetery.

And if you park behind the church,

you'll find a little dirt road between some trees.

If you go down that,

And on the left is the edge of the cemetery.

Eventually, you'll come up

on this huge pipe.

Duck under that and there's a tunnel.

Some kind of storm drain or something that

you can walk through.

I have to duck because I'm tall as shit.

The crazy thing about the tunnel,

it runs directly under the cemetery.

And if you see how close the headstones are,

you'll see that the bodies are buried standing up.

So the dead are standing,

maybe even walking,

on top of the tunnel.

When my parents were younger,

they said the high schoolers went there and called it Satan's tunnel.

They found a dead body there so they gated the thing.

I've gone there in my dreams

a lot lately.

Like every night.

But in my dreams,

the gate is gone.

And what do you see in there?

I never go in.

I always get too scared and turn back.

Dreams aren't random like most people think they are.

They are often our subconscious trying to tell us something.

Something we have forgotten or failed to accept.

Like you were saying,

you're entire family tree rests in that cemetery.

And you know so little about them.

Apparently you feel disconnected from your parents.

There might be some secrets buried there.

Or more importantly,

here.

I think it is important we learn about those secrets.

If I hypnotize you,

putting you in an unconscious state,

You can talk about the tunnel.

And unlike your dreams,

you can go in there,

and you can take control.

Hypnotize me?

(machine noises)

The gate is gone.

Can you go in?

I already did.

I think I can see something.

What do you see?

It's some sort of mask.

What's behind the mask.

It's another mask.

Masks are often used to conceal things.

Behind those masks, I bet there's a deep desire or thoughts.

What is it? What do you see?

I can't. I can't tell you.

Even if it's something terrible, you need to tell me.

You need to talk about it.

Look to your left.

(clock ticking)

(woman weeping)

(footsteps)

What?

Ow, my head.

Who are you?

You've been here before. You must remember when.

I don't.

Why do you have that thing on your head?

I wear this to conceal my pitiful fate.

(gunshot)

(footsteps)

Dreadful things have happened in this house,

and all over this town.

You need to discover the truth.

(car starting)

You know you're dreaming, right?

(footsteps)

This is only an acceptable way out

in a dream, not in the real world.

(gunshot)

You're awake. What did you see?

Please. Never make me do that again.

Johnny, Johnny, it's ok.

Come here. Come to me.

(suckling sounds)

It's gonna be ok.

(choking sounds)

Johnny, tell me what did you see?

I can't remember anything.

It's like waking up from a nightmare.

My heart is racing but I can't remember anything.

Well, looks like our time is up.

Same time next week?

Yeah.

Sure, that sounds good.

I'll be here.

(woman weeping)

(camera turning on)

They're not real. That's stuff is still fucking with your mind.

When you look at this footage, there won't be anything there.

Just empty streets.

(Breathing)

(pill bottle shaking)

They're not real. You're gonna be ok.

I think I lost them.

Where the fuck am I?

You've been here before. You must remember when?

No way. That stuff's still fucking with your head.

(knocks)

What the Hell are those?

Fucking bones?

Alright, let's check the door. Any luck?

Oh shit. Alright, we're going in.

(clocks ticking)

Why's there so many clocks?

They're all at different times, but they're ticking's all in sync.

That's odd.

What is that?

My parents had this clock. Hey mom.

That's a pretty cool one.

Woah.

How many of these are there?

Ok this is getting a little bit creepy.

But that's what we're here for.

More clocks. Masks.

There's a ton of them.

Ok, what the Hell is going on in here?

Alright, let's check this out.

(grinding sound)

(noose creeks)

(screaming)

(screaming)

Yikes.

Huh. Never seen that before.

Nice to meet me.

Are those faces? Decorations?

Wow. Ok. Now we're getting somewhere.

I don't know what to do about it anymore.

I don't know where to go or what to do.

Very resourceful.

I feel these urges.

Wow. Urges that I can't control.

I need it.

Just like I need the clocks.

Some sort of structure. Something that will never leave me.

It doesn't feel good, but it does feel right.

I just want it all to end.

(Clocks ticking)

Holy shit.

What the fuck?

You're alive?

Do you know where you are?

Alright, so I think this is the knife that they use.

I wonder how many people they've killed with it.

What is that?

Wicked.

Is that a decaying hand as a soap holder?

I don't think that's very sanitary.

(stab)

Reset the clocks?

Reset the clocks.

(clock goes out of sync)

No. No. No!

(clock goes out of sync)

(screaming)

(clock goes out of sync)

Make it stop. Make it stop!

(Clock goes out of sync)

(crying)

(out of sync clocks ticking)

(Screaming)

(Out of sync clocks ticking)

(screaming)

(Cutting sounds)

(Out of sync clocks ticking)

The Surgery was successful.

And with just a little more rest, a few days,

We'll be able to let you go back home.

But anyways,

the chief of police wants to talk to you.

Hi Jonathan.

My name is George Calaway. I'm the chief of police.

Would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?

Where's my camera?

It's right over there on that table.

We had to confiscate the footage now that it's being used as a criminal investigation.

Can you let me look at it?

Why?

I just need to know.

Just let me look at it.

Johnny, I need to know.

Why did you go in that house?

I can't remember.

Try.

Last thing I remember, I was with my therapist.

Even that's blurry.

She did something to me.

I don't remember anything after that. Honestly.

Well, let's hope it all comes back to you.

So do you remember what happened to your stomach?

You got stabbed by a man named Travis Cook.

On the way up to his house. There was a girl in there he was holding hostage.

She had cuts up and down her whole body, laying in a pool of blood.

Cook stabbed you in the abdomen.

Is she ok?

She's gonna be fine. Got out of surgery this morning.

You know? You saved that young girl's life.

Everything's fuzzy. Like a distant memory.

I just got little bits and pieces.

That's ok. It's the painkillers.

Rest up, we'll be in touch.

Oh by the way, the mayor wants to talk with you;

Hello Johnny. It's great to finally meet you.

Do you know who I am?

Yeah. You're the mayor, right?

Yes. My name is Michael Merrick and

my grandfather was a judge in this town long ago.

And as a child he instilled in me a deep, deep sense of justice.

What those people did in that house,

they tipped the scales of justice in one direction,

and your actions brought things back.

Now this is bigger than this one situation,

you reflected the values that this town was founded upon.

I'm thinking maybe in the future,

you might turn out to be a pillar in this community.

I want you to think about that, ok?

Police have found the remains of several victims in the home behind me,

which include evidence of torture and murder.

Police haven't released much information, but what we do know is

police entered the house to discover
Police haven't released much information, but what we do know is

police entered the house to discover

a grizzly scene after a 911 call.

In addition to the remains of many of the missing persons,

police discovered the body of homeowner Travis Cook,
In addition to the remains of many of the missing persons,

police discovered the body of homeowner Travis Cook,

who appears to have died from a knife wound during the altercation.

Cook and an unknown accomplice kept prisoners inside the house,

torturing them for extended periods of time, resulting in countless deaths.

Local hero, Johnny Morrow, went into the house and was severely injured,

in an attempt to save their most recent victim, Christina Gray,

The second perpetrator fled before police arrived,

and is still at large.

Christine Gray and her saviour, Jonathan Morrow are recovering form their injuries

and are expected to make a full recovery.

This is Earl Zachary Kurtz for W.A.N.D. singing off.

Welcome home, Johnny.

Johnny, you're a hero.

(cheering)

(obnoxious music)

(screeching)

It's ok, everybody. He's been through a lot, just give him a few minutes.

(muffled party sounds)

(knock on door)

Go away.

Johnny, there's someone here to see you.

I don't want to talk to anybody.

It's Christina. The girl whose life you saved.

Why aren't you down stairs.

You look like you're recovering well.

Oh, thanks.

You too. I only got stabbed once you got

You want to come in?

I was waiting for you to ask me.

Sorry.

You don't need to apologize.

Sorry.

You know you're tall as fuck, right?

Yeah, sorry.

I know they weren't trying to kill me.

I realize that.

My stabs weren't that deep, not nearly as deep as your one.

They just wanted me to suffer.

They would leave the knives by the bath,

I think hoping that I would just end it myself.

But for some reason I just held on.

I just can't imagine.

I just don't know why the police own't tell me anything.

They're probably in the middle of their investigation or something.

Yeah.

Can I ask you something?

Yeah?

How did you know I was in that house?

I guess I heard a scream or something and rushed in.

I'm honestly not sure.

The police said you had a camera and you were filming it all.

Yeah. I did.

Sometimes I see things that may or may not be real.

I think it's because there was an accident when I was a kid.

In the garage, we had a metal toolbox on top of the freezer.

I don't know if I bumped it, but

it fell, cracked me in the head.

And I just laid there bleeding for hours.

And my parents didn't find me for the longest time, because they've never cared about me.

I think you're parents care about you. They threw you this whole party.

The fact that they don't realize I hate parties is proof they don't care.

But anyway,

if I see things that I'm not sure if they're real or not,

I just take out my camera and film it.

I fucked up the screen a few years back,

tripping over that same damn toolbox.

But it works out nicely. When I get home I can look at the footage,

If the camera sees it, then it's real. If it doesn't, it's not.

Do you think I could see some of the footage?

It's really not worth watching.

Most of it is just sots of random streets.

No, I meant from when you saved me.

Oh. I don't have it.

The police took the memory card from the camera. They're using it as evidence.

Ok.

I used to have these nightmares.

I would see this face just stare at me.

In my closet, under my bed

But it wasn't just when I was sleeping. It was staring at me when I was awake.

It started to just stare, but then it would turn into

The guys' masks looked like the face I saw when I was little

and I know that sounds crazy.

But it's true. It's true.

And either I've been being stalked for years, or

I'm going crazy, but

I'm terrified.

Here. Take this.

Just do what I do.

If you see something weird, record it.

If the camera sees it, then it's there.

Thank you. That's really thoughtful of you.

Yeah.

We should probably go back down stairs. There's people that want to see you.

You're probably right.

Then I realized he had a little routine everyday. Like all these weird habits.

Like he would turn the door hand seven times, each time.

One time he freaked out because one of the clocks was not set like the other clocks.

And then one of the other guys fixed it.

But I thought, if I could just get out of that tub,

and change some of the clocks, it might give me enough time to escape.

Well, you were very brave, being able to come up with that under those conditions.

Hey, do me a favour.

Yeah.

Don't ever ask me about that again.

Yeah, sorry.

I don't know. I' e never felt this way about anyone before.

I want to spend all my time with her. I never want to be away form her.

Stop filming me, ok?

I just need to make sure this is real.

Stop it. Stop.

Stop filming me. Stop it.

Stop filming me.

This is my favourite place.

I used to come here all the time as a kid.

Yeah, I have a few places like that.

When I die,

I want my ashes scattered all over this place,

so that I can be here forever.

That would be really cool.

You know I love you, right?

Yeah, I love you too.

It was right here on a gloomy October day, I was in like third grade.

I started to realize that I wasn't like everybody else.

We were playing football and none of the other kids were nice to me.

So I just came over here and sat on this rock,

wondering why I wasn't like everybody else.

They've just been so fucking annoying lately. Worse than usual.

You'll get over it.

I know I will, but talking and feeling like someone is listening helps me to get over it.

You're not the only one with problems.

After what I went through, I'll never be the same.

I still see that face everywhere I go.

That's why you need to use that camera I gave you.

To prove that it's not real.

But what if it is real?

Alright, now you're sounding like me.

I'm tired of being told how to live my life by people who have a fundamental misunderstanding of who I am.

Ok, then you need to talk to them and tell them that, or

you need to limit what kind of control they have over your life.

I know I could do more to help myself.

But I don't need any more advice.

I just need to feel like someone is listening to me.

I can't help you if you're not willing to help yourself, ok?

I'm sorry you can't handle the truth.

She's driving me insane. I don't understand how everything I can do is wrong.

I feel like she's just constantly criticizing me.

It just seems like you never want to hang out anymore.

Like you're always busy or hanging out with other people.

I have other friends that aren't you.

That's all you are to me is a friend, ok?

I'm sorry if I mislead you or something.

No, I didn't even mean that.

Listen, I'm fine with us being friends.

But, I'm allowed to hang out with other people.

And I'm not obligated to hang out with you.

And if you think there's anything more here, I'm sorry that I mislead you.

But that is just unacceptable.

No, that's not what I mean.

It just seems like you're always mad about something and I don't know what it is.

Just forget I said anything.

Boo.

Hey.

I haven't heard from you in a while, how's it going?

I went to the fair.

I went to the fair.

Nobody. I just went by myself.

Did you get me anything?

Why would I get you anything, after last time? You would think I was hitting on you or something.

Well, I don't think there's anything wrong with a friend getting a friend a gift.

Well, yeah I could have got you something.

Do you want to fuck me?

What?

Do you want to fuck me?

Why are you asking me that?

Never mind. Forget I said anything.

No. I mean

yes. I would like to try.

Especially with you.

So, what do you want to do?

Uh, I don't know.

Um, I think maybe you should take the lead.

If you don't want to do this we don't have to do this.

No, no. I do.
If you don't want to do this we don't have to do this.

No, no. I do.

I just, I'm nervous.

That's ok. Come here.

(industrial noises)

(screams)

Stop.

I'm sorry I just can't do this.

It's ok.

I know you think I've been mean to you recently.

After everything I've been through,

it's just been really hard for me.

And you're negativity was really bringing me down.

It's ok. I understand.

I thought I might be ready for this, but I wasn't.

Do you want to talk about it?

It's too late to talk about it.

Well, will I see you again?

Yeah. Yeah.

I still see that face everywhere I go.

Just do what I do. If you see something weird, record it.

(torture sounds)

Hasn't she suffered enough for a lifetime?

We've always given her the life that we intended.

And even if you've changed your mind,

at this point we would just be putting her out of her misery.

I hope you're right.

I just really don't know what's real anymore.

It really seems like my childhood fears are my reality.

I really feel like I've lost my mind.

I'm being haunted and it's not going away.

I guess the wounds are starting to heal, but

some wounds you just can never heal.

Forgive me.

(gunshot)

The joy which has so often eluded me, I try and steal from others.

I face hidden obstacles they could never understand.

This world of rich images, rather than simple words.

Mountains and valleys in place of their plains.

But here. I am part of something greater.

Something none of you could understand.

At least not yet.

We are the reapers of contentment.

Stealing their joy to replace our own sorrow.

Their loss of life breathes life into me.

Their pain returns to me the joy that was stolen.

We are part of something greater than ourselves.

And I hope you all know this is far from over.

It's only just begun.

When I die.

I want my ashes scattered all over this place.

So that I can be here forever.

She really loves that park.

And she told me when she dies she wanted to have her ashes scattered there.

Well, it's a nice thought. But she didn't mean it.

We have a section in the graveyard next to his parents.

No, but that's not what she wanted.

Look, we said no.

You can't litter somebody's ashes in a public place.

She will be buried by her grandparents.

You're not respecting her wishes.

Look, we said no.

With all due respect, you didn't know her.

You just saw a little glimpse of her after the light in her soul had been snuffed out.

No, she told us about you.

How you wouldn't leave her alone and kept calling

and she felt obligated to spend time with you

because you helped her get out of that house.
and she felt obligated to spend time with you

because you helped her get out of that house.

But she didn't care about you.

That's not true. You're a fucking liar.

Please. Just let us mourn our daughter in peace.

(screaming)

(footsteps)

(laughter)

That's right. It was me the whole time.

And the funniest part is, nobody is going to believe you.

Nobody ever believe you.

(laughter)

Johnny, I think we should try hypnotizing you again.

No. Last time made me feel so much worse.

You said it yourself, there are secrets repressed in your mind and we need to face them.

This all just makes me feel worse.

I mean not just the hypnotizing thing, but all of it.

These are painful memories. I just want to forget them.

Johnny, I'm here to help you.

I guess I can't feel worse than I already do.

(machine noises)

I'm in the library.

Did you have any traumatic experiences there?

There was a book that scared me as a kid.

It was about the history of our town.

Try to remember what it said.

In the earliest days of the town, before it even got it's name,

there was little hope, not much to believe in.

A woman named Roberta Washington developed a philosophy.

Some called it a cult. A religion even.

Her followers called her a visionary. Others called her a witch.

Little is known about her life, except that she was burned at the stake by those who opposed her.

Her belief was simply. That there were equal parts joy and suffering in the world.

A balance.

She and her close circle of followers engaged in self-harm,

fasting, and other methods of self-inflicted suffering,

to allow for more joy to enter the world,

in hopes that it would spread to others.

A selfless act or branch of the occult, depends who you ask.

In the 1800s, Norman Van Buren, one man said to be just over eight feet tall,

became obsessed with her teachings,

which were recorded in her book, which has since been lost.

He reinterpreted her teachings, or as some believe, he inverted them.

He and a select group of followers began inflicting pain upon others,

which they believed would allow more joy to enter the world, which they would reap.

A direct inversion of Roberta Washington's teachings, if you ask me.

Van Buren's teachings took a dark turn,

when he wrote his manifesto,

which claimed the ultimate method of accepting joy was to get a victim to commit suicide,

either through mental or physical abuse,

in an attempt to steal an amount if joy equal to the amount of suffering the victim faced.

He called his manifesto Death by One Thousand Cuts.
in an attempt to steal an amount if joy equal to the amount of suffering the victim faced.

He called his manifesto Death by One Thousand Cuts.

According to my research, many of these suicide victims reside right here in town,

in the old cemetery located just off Acacia Avenue.

You've seen me before.

When you were young, your mother had a family photo album.

I remember now. But why were you

You have my blood flowing through your veins.

Divine blood.

Where do you think your great height and intelligence came from/

Even if I am your descendant, I'm nothing like you.

Ask yourself. Am I just your imagination?

The voice in your head, telling you everyone wants you dead?

No, I am as real as the pain you feel.

Come. Fulfill your purpose.

Be our sacrifice.

Allow us to steal your joy.

You're not real. This is a dream.

Maybe, But if you're wrong, you will be my sacrifice.

(gunshot)

Can I help you?

Yeah. I'm trying to find a book and

And you don't know how the Dewy Decimal System works?

Yeah.

What are you looking for?

I'm either trying to find one specific book I read here as a kid,

or just something similar.

I'm really just looking for more information on the history of this town.

Specifically a woman named Black Berta.

You won't find anything like that here. Not anymore.

A few years back the big wigs from city government came and took those books away.

Said it was too frightening for the children.

I looked online and couldn't find much about her.

Yeah, her story isn;t too well known outside of our little town.

And with the recent censorship, her tale might soon be forgotten entirely.

That is of course, unless you were to go over to the annex.

The annex?

There's a big hill you can see just off of Mariner Road.

If you look closely, there's a cement structure at the top.

Yeah, I think I know what you're talking about.

There's an old bunker erected during the second world war,

that housed a nuclear warhead for coastal defense, but it never ended up being used.

My twin sister Wendy works for the mayor's office,

and she told me after they took the books form my library, they took them to that structure

and locked them up inside.

All the banned books and records that aren't made public are up in that structure collecting dust.

I'd be willing to bet on the soul of Berta Washington,

that if you found a way into that structure, you would find out a lot about what you want to know.

But of course, there's no way they would ever let you in there.

Right.

Well, it wasn't really that important anyway.

Thank you.

(rusty door handle)

Johnny. Johnny.

Johnny, I'm gonna go inside this house for a few minutes.

And I want you to stay in the car, ok?

Under no circumstances will you get out of the car.

Ok?

Hey. Help. Please help me.

Help, help, help. Help!

Johnny I told you to stay in the fucking car.

Look, I don;t know what you think you saw in there,

But there's an explanation for it.

So just forget about it, Ok?

Why am I here?

You didn't just see me once. You saw me a second time, remember?

I'm here at the scene where a body was found late last night.

This tunnel, nicknamed Satan's Tunnel by locals,

runs directly under the Acacia Avenue Cemetery

A group of high schoolers ventures into the tunnel on a dare,

where they found the body of a young man named Victor Payne.

Payne was killed by a point blank gunshot wound, though police are baffled,

as the shot seems to be self-inflicted, evident by the gun wrapped tightly in the victim's hand.

Yet police say the lack of blood indicates the body was moved here from another location.

The case takes a more bizarre turn, when you consider the fact that those who knew him,

said that before his disappearance three weeks ago,

Payne was acting strangely for months.

Often talking at great length

You don't need to be watching this.

Forget about what you saw, ok?

Victor Payne. It's all coming back to me now.

You were only a child. Far too young to witness something so awful.

I'll see you on the other side.

Follow my lead. I'll illuminate the truth.

(footsteps)

That's tomorrow night.

The case takes a more bizarre turn, when you consider the fact that those who knew him

said that before his disappearance three weeks ago,

Payne was acting strangely for months,

often talking at great length about ghosts who were speaking to him.

He claimed he could see these ghosts using a lantern he created.

His mother, Janice Payne, said her son would be buried along with the lantern,

as it seemed to be the thing he cared about the most in this world.

My name is Victor Payne.

I wanted to learn more about the history of our town.

Over the last few years, I've explored every corner of our town and have read many books on the subject.

What initially seemed to be a peaceful town, turned out to have some very dark secrets.

Simple research on the police records shows,

that large a number of missing persons cases have number been solved.

In addition to this, there have been many unsolved murders,

Much higher than the expected rate of this town's size.

It seems as though our isolated community is not noticed by the outside world.

And these strange phenomenons go unnoticed.

And within our town, nobody seems to even talk about it.

As I began to dive deeper into our town's history,

I came across even bleaker things.

At the dawn of our town's creation, there lived a woman named Berta Washington.

Among her various philosophical pursuits,

she also dabbled in the likes of alchemy and the occult.

She set out to learn all she could from both science and magic,

and believed true advancement could be found form the intersection of these two schools of thought.

The locals branded her as a witch and put her to death.

It was said by an eye witness, that as she died she cried black tears,

This combined with her bleak reputation,

led to the nickname Black Berta.

In the library, I was able to locate one copy of her writings,

though I do not know who compiled them.

There did not seem to be any record of the book in the library's system,

so I just decided to keep the book.

In her book there were instructions for her greatest invention,

the spectral light.

It was a lantern that would cast a light that would allow you to see ghosts.

I followed the instructions and built a spectral light,

though I combined her method and some modern technology.

But my lantern essentially is the same as her.

When I turn it on, I can see the faint outlines of ghostly figures.

Everyone thinks I'm crazy, but they haven't seen what I've seen.

My only question is, now that I've seen their ghosts,

What do I do with them?

They're calling out to me, but what do they want?

If you hear these words, it surely means I'm six feet under ground.

I leave behind a legacy of nothing but regret.

I was personally responsible for countless deaths,

and how many died not at my hand, but because I refused to stop them.

I can't remember all their names, but I will never forget them.

Like the boy with the overbearing parents, who breathed in the exhaust of his father's car.

Or the young woman who was abused and abandoned

who slashed her own wrist.

She looked os much like Berta, as her tears carried her makeup down her face.

Then there were all those who were subjected to physical torture,

who died right before my eyes.

Like the young man I hit with the hammer who overdosed.

They found him down by a river a few days later.

He got some time on the news. He was one of the lucky ones.

There was the young man who hanged himself,

They never found his remains, but I can see his face every night when I sleep.

No closure for those who loved him. He doesn't get to become a memory, just a mystery.

I pity them most of all.

Those who are forgotten and never get to become a ghost.

Then there was that other one. Victor Payne.

We treated him worst of all. Doing things I can't even speak of.

We handed him a gun,

we told him there was only one bullet, and if he didn't take his life,

we would torture him worse.

But the truth was, there was nothing more we could do.

I secretly put three bullets in the gun,

and hoped he'd turn the gun on us, but he didn't notice.

(gunshot)

I've grown to loathe my associates,

but they're the only family I have ever known.

I keep waiting for and end and each day I feel it growing closer.

Coming to an end.

Hello Johnny. I see you discovered our little secret.

Why are you all here?

I can't tell you that. You're not part of the club.

No? It's a story as old as time, Johnny.

I'm the mayor of this town. Beside me stand many prominent members of our community.

We have the power. We can do whatever we want.

And no one can stop us.

Johnny, remember me?

Did you wonder how we concealed all those crimes so effectively?

It was easy. Simple.

Me and a few key members of the department,

we concealed all the evidence that we had to.
Me and a few key members of the department,

we concealed all the evidence that we had to.

Those who control the evidence, control the narrative.

My name is Wendy. I work in the mayor's office.

I know it was you who broke into the annex,

and I know it was my good for nothing twin sister who told you to do it.

She's so nosey, always trying to find out about the records we keep in there.

But she will never understand us and what we do.

She thinks she's so smart by reading all these books,

But people like her and even you will never understand certain things.

Mother was wrong about us. I am the more successful sister. I am the achiever.

Wendy, shut the fuck up.

It's not always about controlling information and manipulating the narrative.

It's about controlling people, and manipulating their minds,

I had unlimited access into your mind.

I gained your trust and I used it against you.

You have a very powerful mind.

You blocked out so much of what had happened to you.

My job was to bring those memories back.

To make you feel pain again.

The only reason I kept you alive is so that you can suffer more.

We realized you wanted just to be left alone.

You hated all the attention you got.

That's why we all swarmed you like flies.

All up in your business.

It was so easy to overwhelm you.

And make you miserable.

We breed like cockroaches.

But our children are nothing more than our sacrifices.

We raise them and pretend to love them,

But we do that only to betray their trust.

Nothing hurts like being let down,

by the ones you love the most.

But some people like my daughter,

they somehow keep powering through.

Not living but merely surviving.

Still hopeful for a better future,

even though it's too late given the pain they've endured.

That's where my partner and I came in.

We'd take them to that house and torture them,

physically until they ended their pathetic little lives.

She was your daughter, how could you do this?

How could any of you do this/

It's easy. Once you leave any superstitions or moral codes in the dust.

What you're left with is the strong versus the weak.

You were born and raised to be miserable.

Through psychological manipulation,

we try to bring our victims to the edge.

If that doesn't work, we turn to physical torture.

To break our victims.

Until you found that old house and ruined that.

You always felt like you were on the outside looking in.

You said that right? Life was a party you weren't invited to.

That's not entirely not true.

Nobody ever loved you.

You can see the pattern throughout human history.

Humans for groups.

We strive for a sense of belonging.

Groups are formed through finding other individuals with certain commonalities.

But the dark side of this is

that by definition

a group can be defined just as easily

as those who are excluded.

Forming a group, just simply means

excluding the ones that don't fit in.

And they always exist in equal measure.

It's up to the individual to be the hunted or the hunter.

This tradition has been passed through our family for centuries,

Each of us offering one sacrifice per generation.

And then we're free to live as we choose.

Occasionally finding other random victims.

And for those strong enough to overcome it, the few who have,

we invite them in.

People are always more fond of those they respect than those they like.

Some will even find a strange fondness for those who mistreat them

and they will submit like a dog to please them.

But Johnny you're too far gone. End it.
and they will submit like a dog to please them.

But Johnny you're too far gone. End it.

Allow us to reap the rewards of your suffering.

And put yourself out of misery at long last.

The time has come for you to die. Rodgers, hand him your knife.

(party music)

The witch's lantern. The spectral light.

Come on.

Johnny put that thing away. It's useless.

Come on!

Johnny, this is pathetic.

You all need to look upon what you've done.

Look at them. Can't you see them.

You're all guilty.

You need to understand the magnitude of what you're doing.

Johnny, come on. Stop.

You want me to stop?

Of all the people here, you need to take some responsibility.

(screams)

And you two

I trusted you.

You ruined my life.

Can't you see them?

They all could have been somebody.

Now they're all dead, because of you.

I could have been somebody.

Hello Johnny. I see you discovered our little secret.

Johnny. Remember me?

Mother was wrong about us. I am the more successful sister. I am the achiever.

I had unlimited access into your mind.

I gained your trust. And I used it against you.

It was so easy to overwhelm you and make you miserable.

Nothing hurts more

than getting let down by those you love the most.

We'd take them to that house and torture them physically

until they gave in and ended their pathetic little lives.

It's easy once you leave any superstitions or moral codes in the dust.

But Johnny, you're too far gone. End it.

The only reason I kept you alive is so that you could suffer more.

Life is like a party I wasn't invited to.

And eventually they'll all figure that out.

And then they'll all turn on me.

(stab sound)

(Groaning)

(Screaming)

(Screaming)

Life is like a party I wasn't invited to.

(Screaming)

Occasionally I meet people and convince myself they're my friends.

(Screaming)

But in the end there's just this sense.

(Screaming)

I don't belong.

(Screaming)

And eventually they'll all figure that out. Then they'll all turn on me.

(Screaming)

You know I love you, right?

Yeah I love you too.

(Screaming)

This is my favorite place.

(Screaming)

She told me that when she dies

(Screaming)

When I die

she wanted to have her ashes scattered there.

(Screaming)
she wanted to have her ashes scattered there.

(Screaming)

I want my ashes scattered all over this place.

We have a section in the graveyard next to his parents.

(Screaming)

so that I can be here forever.

But that's not what she wanted.

(Screaming)

Will I see you again?

Yeah. Yeah.

Death by a thousand cuts refers to an ancient method of torture,

in which numerous small cuts were made on a victim's body.

None of the cuts were deadly by themselves,

but the combination of them would cause the victim to die a slow, painful death.

In psychology, the term refers to small issues that are over-looked

until they add up to something too big to ignore.

Sometimes I question which version of the phrase is worse.

The more they suffer, the more contentment we feel.

As they continue to die, the more we feel alive.

We bring them to the edge through excruciating pain,

body and mind.

Until they take themselves out of this world.

Who has better opportunity to conceal our crimes than I,

the grave digger.

When my axe breaks new ground,

who will question who I lay six feet underneath.

The dead are forgotten, and our crimes are buried along with them

in their lonely graves.

I follow the ways of the witch,

but she was wrong about many things.

And the ones who once followed her

they now follow me.

And after I have passed on from this world,

they will continue what I began.

And when all is said

and all is done

this entire world will be my graveyard.