All language subtitles for Curse.of.the.Witchs.Doll.2018.HDRip.XviD.AC3-EVO

Subtitles by explosiveskull

They're coming for me.

I will never forget.

I will never forgive.

I will live on.

Come along, Chloe.

We're almost there.

I want to go home.

We can't.

Why?

It isn't safe anymore.

I want to go home.

Be brave, Chloe, please.

This is our new home.

No, it's not.

Mrs. Gray.

You must be Arthur.

It's good
to meet you, Mrs. Gray.

Please, Adeline.

Is everything all right?

Hiding behind that tree
is my daughter, Chloe.

She's not accustomed
to such change.

She left so much behind.

She's not alone.

We just have to
keep moving forward.

I'm so sorry we're late.

Don't be.

We don't claim to
be easy to find.

Are we close to the house?

Very.

This way.

Have you come far?

Kent.

Our street was bombed
three days ago.

It's no place for a
child at the moment.

Sounds like you were
lucky to get out alive.

We were.

Well, you'll be
as far out of sight

as it is possible to be here.

You'll be staying at
the village's oldest

and most secluded building.

There are even
some in the village

who are unaware of the
house in the woods.

Here we are.

Brynhill Manor.

Manor?

Not what
you were expecting?

You never mentioned we were
staying at a manor house.

I thought I
would surprise you.

It has been vacant
for some time.

It's so vast,

so cold.

You'll find blankets
in your bedrooms,

lanterns too.

How can you expect
us to stay here?

It's all I have to offer.

Then we will look elsewhere.

There's nowhere else here.

The next village
is an hour's walk.

But it's...

All you can afford.

It's a roof over your
heads, nevertheless.

Shall we continue?

I'll show you around.

Unpack your bag, Chloe.

But, Mommy.

Unpack your bag, please.

My father bought the
manor many years ago

with the aim of turning
it into our family home,

but he died before he ever
had a chance to complete it.

I've had some generous offers
to take it off my hands,

but, in the end, I've
rejected them all.

I realized that deep down,

I didn't have the heart to
part with it permanently.

Why have you let us stay here.

This place has so
much unknown history,

so much mystique that it had
intended to remain untouched,

but your letter opened my eyes.

I knew it was finally time
to reopen these doors.

It's ready for a new
chapter, a new purpose,

a new family.

I've installed a bed
for you in there

and another one
for Chloe in there.

What was that?

It's locked.

Where does this door lead?

To the east wing.

What' down there?

Not much, it's
fallen into disrepair.

Do you have the key?

Not on me, I'm afraid.

But you have dozens
of keys in your pockets.

Surely one of them is...

I don't have it, Mrs. Gray.

All right.

We were hoping to be
here for six months,

maybe more.

You can stay here
as long as you need.

Would you like
to discuss payment?

I can only offer five
shillings a week.

I won't accept a penny.

No, I'm not asking
for any charity.

I will pay my way.

Mrs. Gray, I
only want to help.

Thank you, Arthur.

I'm so cold, Mom.

Better?

It's okay.

They can't hurt us here.

Are we ever going back?

Are we ever going home?

Of course we are, sweetheart.

The war must come to an end.

When?

It's impossible to say.

For the meantime,

promise me you'll make
the best of it here.

Didn't I always tell
you that one day,

we'd have a big
house and garden?

Imagine the games of hide and
seek we could play out there.

There must be a thousand
trees to hide behind.

How can I make this up to you?

You can't.

Why?

Talk to me, please.

I miss him so much.

I know you do,

but you're not alone.

You have me.

One day...

Don't say it.

What are you talking about?

Don't say it.

Say what?

Please.

One day we'll all be reunited.

One day Daddy will come home.

No!

Daddy is coming home.

No, he isn't.

How can you say that?

Stop lying to yourself.

He's never coming home.

I'm so sorry.

Goodnight, Chloe.

What am I doing?

Are you all right, Mrs. Gray.

Yes, this is all just
a bit of an adjustment,

that's all.

Is there anything I can do.

No, Mr. Harper.

You've been generous enough.

There's a lot on my
mind, that's all.

You fear he's not coming back?

I can't bear the
thought of losing him.

Does he write to you?

Often.

We were trying for another
child when he left.

We were discussing names.

I'm sure he misses
you both terribly.

Chloe needs her
father more than ever.

Do you ever get
lonely down here?

Sometimes.

Are you married?

I'm a widower.

I'm sorry.

She lived more in 30 years,

than many would in a century.

How can you
stand it, the loss?

How you deal with loss
defines the rest of your life.

It can make you stronger
or it can tear you apart.

I choose to accept that
loss will hurt us all

sooner or later,

but if you let it, life will
hold something else for you,

something worth fighting
through the pain for.

It took me 20 years to see it.

Mom?

It's time to get up.

Chloe?

Chloe?

You had me worried sick.

Why didn't you answer?

Chloe?

I haven't seen this one before.

She's rather scary.

Don't.

Don't touch her.

Is she one of yours?

No.

What's her name?

I don't know.

Well, choose one.

Where did she come from?

I can't tell you.

You can't tell me?

Who told you that?

She told you that.

That's not possible.

You know that, don't you?

She's not alive.

What have you done with it?

I haven't moved.

All right.

We all see things when
we need more sleep.

Even you?

Yes.

Okay.

Chloe,
come down, please.

What's going on?

We're leaving.

What are you talking about?

Chloe, come down now.

You can't.

We are.

There's nowhere
else for you to go.

I found this place, didn't I?

There will be others.

Tell me why.

I can't begin to explain.

Look, I've
done everything I can.

No, it's not you.

Then what is it?

You'll think
I've lost my mind.

We aren't safe here.

This place is as safe as
any you are likely to find.

That's not true.

Even if that were the case,

surely you wouldn't risk
your daughter's life

to search for somewhere else.

Are you sure we're
alone down here.

Certain.

What makes you think otherwise?

I don't know.

I know what
you've been through,

what you've both been through.

Any mind would wander,

but you're in no danger here.

Let's play a game.

No, no games.

Slow down, please.

Hide and seek, hide and seek.

No.

Come on.

Chloe.

Come back.

Come back now.

I can't
hear you counting.

Eight,

nine,

10.

Ready or not, I'm
coming to get you.

Okay,

you can come out now.

You gave up.

Well,
I've got you now.

Let's play again.

Well, don't
go so far this time.

Too late.

When did you get so fast?

When did
you get so old?

Your mine this time.

Come on, then.

One,

two,

three,

four,

five,

six,

seven,

eight,

nine,

10.

Ready or not, here I come.

I know I'm close.

You're good, but
I'm not giving up.

Chloe?

Mrs. Gray?

I'm Detective Sergeant Nolan.

I understand there's
concerns about your daughter.

Yes.

Do you mind if I look around?

I've searched the
manor seven times over.

She went missing in the woods.

Yeah, I have five officers
searching the grounds

as we speak.

How long has she been missing?

Over five hours.

She ever
run away from home before?

No,

she would never run away.

Well, new house,
tensions at home.

There were no tensions.

Chloe was happy?

Could she be searching
for her father?

No.

Did you actually
see her taken?

No, but I heard her scream.

Well, we only have 30 minutes
of daylight left, Mrs. Gray,

so we will continue
our search at dawn.

You can't stop now, please.

She's out there somewhere.

And you need to
rest, Mrs. Gray.

Rest?

My daughter has
been taken from me

and you tell me to rest.

Goodnight.

Chloe.

Chloe!

She has her.

She has her.

She has your daughter.

Who has her?

Tell me!

The witch has her now.

We've
searched the grounds, the woods.

Have you found Chloe?

Have you found her?

We have someone
in for question,

which means we're
getting closer.

You don't have any idea
where she is, do you?

Time, Mrs. Gray.

We need time to find her.

Promise me.

Promise you what?

Promise me you won't
rest until you find her,

dead or alive.

We're doing all we can.

That's not enough.

Can I have a word, sergeant?

What
did you say to him?

Not to waste any more time.

I've knocked on every
door in the village,

no sightings.

No one's even willing to
help look for your girl,

but I'll keep going.

Chloe!

Adeline.

What are you doing in here?

I was looking for Chloe.

I followed her up the stairs.

That's not possible.

I saw her.

I heard her footsteps.

That could've been anything,

shadows on the wall, the
echoes of your own footsteps.

I heard her voice.

We are alone here.

Your mind is playing tricks.

She's not here.

Do you believe I'll find her?

You believe she's dead.

I still pray for her, for you.

How can you be so sure?

Who wrote these letters?

Have you read them?

Those stories are not true.

She wants us to suffer
as she has suffered.

I know what she wrote.

A vengeful witch lives
within these walls.

It's impossible.

What if the witch has Chloe.

These are lies,

every single one.

Lies.

Tell me you don't believe
in the supernatural.

I didn't.

It's make believe.

How do you know?

How can it be true?

She has a history of delusion.

Who is she?

Her name is Mary, Mary Thomas.

She lost her husband
a few years ago,

but she would wait by the
window all day, every day

for his return.

She claimed he was
on his way home.

To help her escape her pain,
I suggested she stay here.

Her imagination got
the better of her.

When you're alone and
scared, if you let it,

the mind can conjure
horrific images.

What happened to her?

Due to the nature
of her madness,

Mary was sent to a
psychiatric institution.

But what if Mary was right?

Come back to reality, please.

Do you have children?

Do you have any
children, Arthur?

A boy.

If there was a chance,

even the smallest chance,

that going down the
darkest of paths

would lead you back
to your missing boy,

would you close the door
to your superstition

or would you walk the path?

I would do whatever I could.

This is my reality, Arthur.

Everyone else is
giving up on her.

If she's alive, then
I am her last hope.

Spirits do not attach
themselves to dolls.

When we die, we go up there.

Evil can take a
hold of anything.

Do what is necessary.

Good luck, Adeline.

Chloe?

Chloe?

Can you hear me?

Mom!

Chloe!

You finally found me.

Chloe?

It's me.

Come closer.

It's time to go home.

I want to play.

We need to go.

No!

Come closer.

I wanna play a game.

We're leaving.

We're going home.

You can't stop
seeing her, can you?

Your imagination
knows no bounds.

You want to know where your
daughter is, don't you?

Tell me.

Not yet.

Is she alive.

Tell me where she is.

Where did
you find such bravery?

Why won't you tell me?

I wanna see
how far you will go

to see her again.

I'll do anything.

Whatever it takes.

Look at me.

Look at me.

I can't.

If you
can not face me,

how can you face the truth?

You are giving up
on her, aren't you?

I'm not afraid of you.

Well, you should be.

Are you going to tell
me where my daughter is?

Tell me where she is.

I'm not running away.

Where is she?

You are not
ready to know yet.

Are you going
to tell me what happened?

Are you going to believe me?

Yes.

It's all true.

Mary was right.

We're not alone down here.

Have you seen her?

Have you seen the witch?

She knows where Chloe is.

She's taunting me,

testing me to so how far
I'll take my search for her.

And do you think
she's killed her?

I won't allow myself to.

I'm sorry.

For what?

I promised you I would do
everything I could to help you.

I doubted you.

It's not too late to find her.

I need to know why the
witch has taken my daughter.

Mary's letters, I
need to read them,

all of them.

Help me.

Mary
has never recovered

from her husband and child
being taken from her.

Her grasp of the
real world is fading.

Mary has offered many
identities to us.

The most disturbing
of all is the witch.

She believes the witch took
her family away from her.

Mary is the witch.

I'm not going away.

Neither am I.

I know why you're doing this.

You believe they
took your child,

your husband.

You're wrong.

How little you know.

Spare me your vengeance, Mary.

I'm sorry you lost your family,

but I won't let you take mine.

Mom!

Chloe.

Are you ready
to know the truth yet?

Open the door.

Aw, you
couldn't save her.

You let her die.

Your helpless poor
little child died.

You killed her, Mary, you.

How are you, Mary?

Do you remember who
I am, my real name?

I'm Doctor Miles Litner

and you've been under
my supervision here

for almost two years now.

Although, you've offered
us many identities,

it's encouraging to be
talking to you at last, Mary.

Where am I?

This is
a psychiatric institution.

A lunatic asylum.

No.

We are here to help people,

not to punish them.

You've done nothing wrong, Mary.

Has it come back to you,

your past, what happened to you?

Some.

Would you tell me
exactly what you remember?

Take your time.

I remember

smoke, screams, the
smell of burning flesh.

My daughter Chloe, lying
beneath the rubble,

life leaving her eyes.

Two years ago,
your home in Kent

was bombed.

You were pulled to
safety by neighbors,

but Chloe wasn't so fortunate.

She died that day.

I couldn't save her.

You ran back into the wreckage

to find her, but
it was too late.

You did all you could.

You did everything that
could have been done.

The war has eroded
so many minds here.

You're not the first to
try to distance yourself

from its casualties,
from the truth.

You couldn't live with yourself.

You created a new world,
a new identity in Adeline,

that allowed you to live
as a strong mother again.

You imagined Chloe by your side.

You imagined protecting her

from the dangers
that killed her.

In your fantasy,
you could save her,

but deep down, you
knew the truth.

And over time it seeped
in through the cracks.

You couldn't stop Chloe
being taken from you.

Your trauma always found a way

to break in in the most
horrific ways imaginable.

We hoped that by aiding
you in search for Chloe

that it would trigger
these discarded memories,

memories that would finally
open your eyes to the truth,

to Mary.

Reality holds nothing
for me, not anymore.

You can't bring
her back, Mary.

When you see her, talk to her,

you're not talking
to your daughter.

You're talking to an imitation,

a pale imitation.

She's not real.

Loss hurts us all.

In time, let me show you that
life still has much to offer.

If we're to make any progress,
you need to accept the truth.

You have to let her go.

Can you let her go?

I need to.

Thank you.

You once asked me what
was behind this door.

This is the east wing,

home to 40 other
members of our family

here at the Brynhill
Institution.

We should
be getting back soon.

It's nearly lunch time.

He's not real.

He's not real.

Are you all right?

He's not real.

I said
are you all right?

He's not real.

I'm fine.

Shall we find Chloe.

She's here?

Of course.

Come on.

Let's play again.

But, Mom.

The delusions have returned.

She can't keep them out.

There was always a chance.

She was of clear mind
no more than an hour ago.

Mary is an extreme case.

It's impossible to watch.

Take it from me, there are
no easy cases here at Brynhill.

We all want the best
for our patients,

but unfortunately,
that's not always enough.

How do we get through to her?

It may be time to accept...

Accept what?

To accept that we can't.

No.

No, there's always a way.

Read through the files.

30 years of identical cases.

When the patient reaches
complete self-awareness,

catharsis, and descends
this far this quickly,

they never come back.

You have a good
heart, Doctor Powell.

Don't let it cloud
your judgment.

What will you do with her?

No.

No, there must be another way.

Name one.

There's little else
we can do for her.

I'm sending her to ward C.

A lobotomy is not the answer.

I have witnessed more
of these procedures

than I care to remember.

I truly thought we had got
through to her this time.

We provided her with the
opportunity to discover the truth

on her own and it only
brought more pain.

But, Mary has
this inner strength.

She has this inner voice
that's fighting to keep her

in the real world.

I'm just asking you to
give her one more chance,

one opportunity, so she
can accept the truth

once and for all.

Delusions of the
witch will return.

It's always the same routine.

It's just a matter of time.

I know you've seen it too.

Why must she
suffer any longer?

She needs us to help her.

'Cause we are almost there.

She will put her visions
and her past behind her.

She has one more night,

one last chance.

That's not enough time.

This ends tomorrow
morning, one way or another.

What's wrong?

Look after her, James.

Be good for your father.

I'll see you soon.

Goodbye, Mary.

Goodnight, Mommy.

Why are the main lights on?

I couldn't leave, not tonight.

How is she?

I followed her every footstep.

I noted her every word.

And?

I see no progress.

Is
she showing signs...

No significant progress.

But Mary's on the road
to recovery, therefore...

It's not enough.

It's over.

Tomorrow morning
she goes to ward C.

Goodnight, Doctor Powell.

You can't hide the
truth, not anymore.

I followed your advice.

I looked through the archives.

Then you saw the theme,

the promise of
progress in a patient

and then disappointment.

I saw reports of progress
in the eyes of other doctors.

All disputed and eventually
overruled by you.

I warned you of the
danger of letting your heart

rule your head.

You resigned
them all to ward C,

to a lobotomy.

We're here to help them,

to make the difficult
decisions, to stop...

To stop them talking.

Tell me about Frank Harris.

Forgive me, my
memory fails me.

How about James Isaac?

Janet Parker?

Why did you hide their files?

What, still no
recollection, doctor?

Refresh your memory,

because it's all in here,

just like Mary.

All three were
once patients here,

paranoid schizophrenics.

Three wildly
different characters,

three different issues,

but they shared one belief,

a belief denied by you.

A belief that you
still deny today,

even to yourself.

Through her haunted
doll, the witch lives on.

Search too hard for logic

in the beliefs of a
paranoid schizophrenic

and you end up
believing them yourself.

The witch is tormenting
the weak-minded patients

under your care

and you silenced those
brave enough to describe

what they see.

You label them delusional
and if you believe

that you could get
away with this,

you are more delusional
than any of them.

Now why are you
hiding the truth?

I won't let a fucking lie
destroy what I have here,

what I have built.

You
won't silence Mary

and you will not silence me.

Do you hear me?

Doctor Litner?

Yes?

DC Jones, Harrington police.

May I have a word?

Yes, of course.

Sit down.

Can I get you a drink?

Um, no, thank you.

It's no trouble.

I'm on duty.

Oh, yes, of course.

This isn't a
social visit, doctor.

Clearly.

I've been assigned to
a missing person's case.

The person we're searching
for is your colleague,

Doctor Charles Powell.

Tell me, when was the last
time you saw Mr. Powell?

Um, last Friday.

We were assisting a patient,

a particularly
challenging patient.

Ah, yes.

Mrs. Mary Thomas.

Yes, that's correct.

Yes, I'd like for you
to arrange a meeting

for me and Ms.
Thomas if possible.

I'm afraid that
won't be possible.

I can organize a
warrant if need be.

You misunderstand
me, constable.

Following her
treatment, Mary Thomas

is not capable of
talking to anyone.

Mm.

Doctor Powell is
relatively new here,

learning the ropes.

He gets emotionally
attached to the patients.

He can almost feel their pain.

I suggested he left
early that day,

took some time away
from the asylum,

to clear his head.

I believe it was about...

Let's stick to facts,
shall we, doctor?

I sent him home
at four o'clock.

Well, that completely
contradicts what his wife says.

Mrs. Powell said that he
was here working all night.

Impossible.

And you're sure?

I remember it vividly.

I wished him well.

He thanked me for
allowing him time away

and he walked out of
site, off the grounds.

What was he wearing?

I don't recall.

And yet you say you
remember it vividly.

He wore a hat, a coat.

What was the
color of this coat?

Is that important?

Answer the question.

Gray.

A statement that matches
that of Mrs. Powell's at last.

He always wore a gray coat.

Perhaps...

...this.

An odd thing to forget
whilst walking home

on a dismal day in December,
wouldn't you agree?

I spotted this gray coat
buried on the staff coat rack.

It matched the coat description
his wife described exactly.

The last time she saw him.

We all own a gray coat.

What attributes this
particular coat to him?

A prescription
in the left pocket

to Mr. C. Powell.

Maybe he left it behind.

Some may suggest he
didn't leave at all.

And what does
it suggest to you?

I'm merely here
to ask questions.

Mrs. Powell received a
telephone call that evening.

It was from her husband.

He said how he
needed to work late

and that he had to have
a conversation with you.

He seemed agitated.

What could that conversation
have been about?

Something tells me you
think you already know.

Did you have
that conversation?

Did you have some
sort of confrontation?

No.

Mrs. Powell described her
husband's demeanor as agitated,

frustrated

at the way you deal with
mentally fragile patients.

My patients are like family
to me, they are family.

I treat them like my own.

Did Mr. Powell ever witness
you mistreating a patient?

No.

You really should try
this whiskey, constable.

It's Jim Watkins' favorite.

Yes, Sir James Watkins,
the chief constable.

You know him well?

We share a love of golf.

He has a good swing, but
he's a terrible putter.

You should be careful what
allegations you make against me,

constable.

You may find this becomes a
career-changing case for you.

You sound like a man
that has something to hide.

No, I'm afraid
it is Doctor Powell

who has something to hide.

If you were half the
detective you think you are,

you would've searched
both his coat pockets.

He would take the
wedding ring off.

It was a ritual, a routine.

All he told me was

that when he put the wedding
ring back on in the morning,

in his mind, nothing
had happened.

A mistress?

Miss Powell is not the
only woman in his life.

In the minds of
those around him,

he made sure he was
here on Friday night.

In fact he would've
been with another woman.

I need a name.

Miss Beverly Shaw.

Where can I find Miss Shaw?

Well, until Friday night,

you would've found her on
Church Street, number 59.

Along with Miss Shaw,
I fear Doctor Powell

is another casualty of
Friday night's bombing raid

on Harrington town.

Such a tragedy.

I'm afraid Doctor Powell
may remain a missing person

indefinitely.

I trust you can
see yourself out.

Give my regards to the chief
constable when you see him,

won't you?

Doctor Nolan!

Doctor Nolan!

Doris?

Doris.

Doris, can you hear me?

Yes, I hear you.

Are you all right?

No.

Why are you down here?

I heard a voice

and I followed it.

But
I locked the door.

It didn't stay locked.

Please, please don't
send me back up there,

please please.

Why?

Because I'm afraid.

You're safe here.

Stay with me, Doris.

I need you to be
brave, to be honest.

Can you do that for me?

Yeah.

I want you to tell me what
happened to you tonight.

I,

I lay in bed

and I couldn't sleep

and

I,

thought's kept just going

round and round in my
head, like cockroaches

and I heard the door unlock.

It slowly opened

and I thought it was you,

'cause it had to be,

but it wasn't.

It was

someone,

something else.

What did you see?

Nothing.

Just an empty corridor

and then I heard this
sound of a child crying

on the stairs

and I,

how could I just

lie there?

I couldn't.

I wanted to, to help
her, to comfort her.

Doris, are you
taking your medication?

But it was no child.

It was no child, doctor.

It was something else.

Are you taking your meds?

It was a doll, Doctor Litner.

It was a doll.

Not only a doll.

There was life behind its eyes.

It was a living doll.

It was a living doll.

You've seen it
before, haven't you?

You've suffered a
hallucination, nothing more.

We've been down
this road before.

For weeks, you were giving
me a story about a man

looking through your window.

You told me he was
trying to kill you.

You were wrong.

In time you came to
accept and understand

that you were mistaken.

Not this time.

We share this asylum
with a spirit, doctor,

a hateful spirit.

None of us are
safe, not even you.

You know that I'm right.

Even now I can hear her.

She's talking.

What is she saying to you?

She's saying

threatening words.

Tell me.

I can't.

Tell me.

She saying the same four
words over and over again.

You're going to die.

You're going to die.

You're going to die.

But she's not saying
them to me, doctor.

She's talking to you.

It's not alive.

It can't be true.

It can't be true.

All right, here we are.

We are here finally,
on the grounds

of the Brynhill Mental Asylum.

If you've been on
this channel before,

you know how long I've
waited for this day.

And if you're new around here,
hit that subscribe button.

I have brought Emma
along for this one.

She's dying to
see inside it too,

as you can tell.

So, yeah, this asylum has
just been closed down.

It's safe to say that it has
housed many people who were

mentally disturbed and
yeah, many people are said

to have died here.

For decades, staff and
patients have gone on record

claiming to have witnessed
paranormal activity here,

so if we can get a
shot of something,

anything close to
what they wrote about,

then this is gonna be good.

No, you're gonna fall.

This place is
over 400 years old.

Can you imagine
being a patient here?

It is pretty creepy.

Oh, that didn't work?

Shocking.

Let's try to find a
broken door or window,

maybe around the back.

Emma?

Emma, what's wrong?

I can't.

Why?

I just, I can't, Sam.

I can't do this.

It's just an empty building.

We'll be in there for 20
minutes tops, I promise.

What are you afraid of?

When I looked
through the window,

I saw something move,

like a shadow or
something, okay?

Are you sure?

No, but you know
what they saw.

What, do you believe them?

Truly?

No.

Then what
are you afraid of?

That they're right.

Can you be brave?

Just take
me home, please.

We're gonna set
up the cameras,

we'll have a little look around,

and then we'll go home.

10 minutes, that's
all I'm asking for.

Can you do that for me?

Okay.

It's such a buzz.

You might even enjoy it.

You coming?

Okay, Sam, we're set up.

Sam?

Sam?

Sam, are you trying to
give me a heart attack?

What was that?

It's just...

I told you.

I fucking told you.

It's nothing.

It's nothing.

No, don't go back down there.

I told you,
there's no one here.

Now come in.

It's just us and
some creepy doll.

What doll?

In the chest, there
was a doll, I swear.

Funny.

We need to go.

No, not yet.

No, we need to leave.

No.

Sam, I'm begging you, please.

All right, go.

No, I'm not going without you.

Go!

Sam.

Sam, Sam.

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