Original subtitles

A NETFLIX ORIGINAL SERIES

My name is Jason Hawkins.

My life has been a nightmare.

And I've had to learn to live with the fact

that I'm haunted by the woman in white.

THE FOLLOWING IS A TRUE STORY

When I was a child,�my mom did her best, I think,�to�shield us

from understanding that we were poor.

My dad was following work. He drove a truck.

And I remember living in motels

as we were moving around, trying to get situated.

TINA JASON'S OLDEST FRIEND

One of my earliest memories is staying in a motel.

They had a little restaurant in the parking lot.

So we're down there in the restaurant, having breakfast,

and a man had come running out of one of the motel rooms,

buck naked�and covered in blood.

JASON R. JASON'S BEST FRIEND

He took a fire ax and he killed somebody in the parking lot.

Ran up and hit him in the back of the head with the ax.

The guy then charged the restaurant.

So, one of my early memories is

everybody pushing against the doors

and trying to keep this man from getting inside

while he's hammering at these glass doors with the ax.

Eventually, the police show up and shoot him in the parking lot.

And you witnessed the whole thing?

All of it.

TAMARA JASON'S DAUGHTER

That was the final straw for my mom.

And after a lot of hunting and a lot of working,

we wound up moving to an apartment in Anaheim.

For our family, it felt like landing, it felt like this was salvation.

And as we were moving in, I recall the neighbors looking at us,

but I couldn't read the expressions on their faces.

We weren't being greeted. We weren't�being made to feel welcome,

but they�weren't glaring at us in anger either.

So, we move in, we get settled, didn't feel comfortable, didn't know why.

It started with the closet doors.

I would close them at night...

...and I'd turn�around, they'd be open.

Within weeks, I began to get an uncomfortable feeling.

ERIN JASON'S GIRLFRIEND

And I couldn't articulate it.

I couldn't�put it into words. I just began to feel uncomfortable.

Shortly after that, I would occasionally hear somebody call my name.

It started as hearing whispering.

Who's in there?

Jason.

Jason...

Jason!

Who's in there?

- Jason. - Who's in there?

Still to�this day, I mean, I'm shaking right now, just...

Without even�seeing anybody, you could feel it.

- You can feel�it. - Yeah.

There was something there, and it knew my name.

So, I went to my mom about it.

I said, "Hey, I'm hearing, like, somebody talking.

Are you calling me? Is something going on?"

"No, you must be hearing�the neighbors through the walls. It's the TV."

Blew it off. You know, "Don't worry about it."

That was a real common one for me.

- Get some apple juice. - That's great, honey.

They just brushed it off.

They just made me feel like...

like shit.

I attempted to talk to my friends about it, and they laughed at me.

So...

I learned to stop talking about it.

And there were a couple of instances going forward

that made things worse.

I began to hear from my parents that I�was getting up at night,

that I was sleepwalking.

As time progressed, I got this incredible sense

that something bad is coming,

almost like a premonition of something bad about to happen.

And I began to realize that

these feelings were emanating from the�closet.

My logic was, keep them closed.

So, one night, I'm laying there and I hear

the closet doors.

That was the first encounter where I saw her,

the woman in white, hanging in our closet.

Didn't know who she was. I didn't know what she wanted.

The sense of hatred coming out of her

was overpowering.

This would happen every fucking night.

I needed help.

You know, I'm maybe eight,

and nobody around me will listen.

I'm trying to tell people.

I'm trying to get somebody,

anybody, to help me.

I made the mistake of going to my father.

His response to things of this nature

was to whip you.

That's his way of making it stop, I guess.

He punched me in the face.

His response was,

"You little bastard."

These are the people who...

are supposed to protect you and love you.

I became aware of the fact that nobody was going to do anything.

And then things got worse.

This became our nightly routine.

One of the things I try to do,

and this was suggested by my friend's dad, he suggested church.

"Communicate with God

and tell Him what's going on."

Okay. I'm desperate.

So I got baptized. And I was so happy.

I felt like this was a real turning point.

I continued to pray.

I continued to go to Bible study.

And every fucking night

the woman in white would appear.

And, eventually, I reached a point that I stopped praying and started cursing God.

Because how could this happen?

How could a God continue to allow this to�happen?

Every single night,

for six years.

And I couldn't get anybody to believe me.

As this went on, I began to get desperate.

I wasn't sleeping.

I just couldn't...

couldn't sleep in that room.

You know, when you hear people say,

"Hey, I live in a haunted house. It's cool."

Yeah, fuck you.�You live in a haunted house. It's not cool.

It's not fun.

It's not amusing. It's not a cute story to tell your�friends.

I began to get desperate for something, anything.

And we were at a garage sale, and they had a Ouija board.

So, we put our fingers on it, the way you're supposed to do.

And all it spelled out was "hurt you,"

over and over and over.

"Hurt you."

I... I felt like something was happening.

I felt very, very much in danger.

What?

Aah!

My mom comes in and rinses the tub,

and doesn't say anything to me.

I'm like, "Mom...

something is happening."

But there is a moment where she looks at me,

and I can see in her eyes

that she's aware.

Why would�your mom do that?

I think she was in denial.

I knew that we struggled to pay the bills.

I knew that we were often behind on rent.

I think my parents were terrified that if�I caused problems,

that I was saying negative things about the complex,

that they would get kicked out.

And then a couple years passed, and our home was falling apart.

My dad's drinking was getting worse

and my mom got pregnant with my little brother.

They tried to make a better situation.

My mom really pushed for us to move back�to Bakersfield,

where the rent's�a little cheaper, a little easier to get by,

where we had family.

And I was so excited we were moving out of the haunted house.

And the maintenance man says real off-hand, "Huh,

I�m surprised you guys lasted that long."

And I remember going, "What?"

"Yeah. Lady who lived there

murdered her two kids in the bathtub and hung herself in your closet."

We moved in within a week of that happening.

The maintenance man�was literally

replacing the linoleum because of the blood,

and replacing the carpets from where she�hung herself...

'cause she hadn't been found for days.

I realized in that moment�everybody knew.

The neighbors knew.

My parents knew.

The landlord knew.

My friends' parents...

Everybody knew what had happened in that�apartment.

And they let us move in anyway.

For six years,

I was tormented, tortured and abused

by an entity in that house.

So, we went to Bakersfield. We moved into a house that had a real backyard.

It was very much how I felt going from a motel room to an apartment.

And I just remember, like, "This is...

So, this is okay. It's over. I'm done. It stops."

We started school.

I met neighborhood kids.

It felt really, really good.

So, a little time went by,

and I think I was just starting to let my guard down.

And then one�night, me and my best friend, we're out riding our bicycles in the fog.

Jason...

Jason, watch�out!

When I saw her again,

after thinking we got away,

I thought, "How was that possible?

Houses are haunted, not people."

But that's not entirely true.

She came with me.

We get back to my friend's place and we�come in,

and...

he's like, "Mom, Mom, we gotta call an ambulance.

We gotta get Jason to a�doctor. Like... like, now."

This woman is sitting on the couch, just blank,

staring into the distance.

There's a cigarette burned down to ash beside her and she's just...

just checked out.

And she turns her head,

and she looks right at me, and she's getting angry

as she stands up.

And she's looking at me, but she's not seeing me

and says, "You're supposed to be dead.

You're supposed to be dead.

You're supposed to be dead."

Jason, do you think your friend's mom, um...

was being, like, a conduit?

Yeah, I... I really do believe

that the woman in white was speaking through her.

And I really do believe

"You're supposed to be dead" was directed�at me.

I had just missed death by an inch.

That was the realization that this was continuing.

I started to feel like nothing was gonna make it stop.

I started to feel like it was closing in and it was getting worse,

and I was worried that somebody I loved was going to get hurt.

So...

I did the only thing that made sense, I ran away.

I gave up everything.

I rarely stayed more than one night in one location.

I tried to stay one step ahead.

And I thought, �If I keep moving,

if I just don't hold still..."

- She can't�find you then. - "She can't�find me."

And is it workin'?

It seemed to. It seemed to. Uh...

And then a girl came along. Your mom.

We decided to try and make a go of it.

And you were born.

I'm with someone I love.

I'm in a good place. Life is good.

And a couple of years had passed, and I thought, "Okay.

I outran it. I got away."

And I had this job at the bowling alley, working in the... the fry cook area.

I got off work,

and go out towards the parking lot.

I begin to feel her presence again.

Jason...

Welcome back.

We lost you�for a moment there.

I was dead?

They got me in the car and got me to a hospital, and the doctor told me,

"Dehydration and heat stroke. You died in the parking lot."

When I came to in the hospital, I felt this huge,

huge sense of relief.

I didn't feel connected to her for the first time

since I'd been in first grade.

I didn't feel her presence creeping on me 24/7.

She got what she wanted.

I died, and she got what she wanted.

Now it'll stop.

Now it's over.

I have spent a lot of years trying to figure this out.

And I think she thought I was her child who...

was supposed to be dead, that she'd murdered,

and she needed to finish what she�started.

So, was that in fact the last time you saw her?

- No? - No.

I thought it was.

I thought that was it.

After all this time of thinking that it�was over,

um, the woman in white has returned.

A few days ago,

I woke up and she was there, standing beside the bed.

I felt the hatred while the woman in white was there, looking at me.

I'm not going to get away with cheating�death...

much longer.

I'm scared.

I just felt like it was time for you guys�to know.

Sooner or later, your number comes up.

You don't get to know why,

you don't get to know when, you don't get�to know where.

It says in the Bible, �No man will know the hour or day.�

And, uh...

that's what it is.

You don't get to know.

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