Original subtitles

What the fuck?!

Relax. It's not loaded.

Oh, so you're just trying to give me a heart attack?

It's this damn deadline.

I... I... I stare at the screen and yet nothing comes.

You know...

Please don't say it.

Stephen Bachman never had writer's block, not once.

He wrote two books a year, every year.

Sometimes three and they were fucking genius.

And look at me.

Can you explain it, Astrid? How do you do it?

You're not Stephen Bachman, Jay.

You're better.

Yeah.

Uh, enough about me. How was your meeting?

Tell me they made you lead architect.

Might have a little of this first.

Maybe we should just drown our misery

in some meaningless sex and booze.

What do you say?

Uh, yeah.

Oh, you've got it bad, darlin'.

A writer's greatest fear that one day it'll all just... stop.

- You know what you need? - No idea.

Inspiration.

Something to inspire confidence.

Like what? What are you getting at?

Have you ever had a good luck charm?

Little rabbit's foot?

I'm not the superstitious type, Nicole.

Here, darling. Let me show you something.

You see this civil war bullet?

H. P. Lovecraft never wrote a single word

without it in his pocket.

And here? Ray Bradbury's typewriter.

He could only write on this one.

Hm.

Ah, Richard Matheson's pipe.

His place stunk of cherry tobacco.

Without it he was lost.

Sometimes what you need is a... a good luck charm

to help you through the muddle and the-

Mrs. Swanson, Mr. Klein needs you to sign the contracts.

Ah, excuse me for a moment, darling.

Deals to be made.

Oh, good.

Hm.

Hm.

Jay.

What are you doing?

I'm sorry. I just, uh, um...

No, no, it's just very valuable.

Yeah, yeah.

It actually fits you, darling. Can't say that about everyone.

I'm really sorry. I...

No, no, darling, please.

It's, uh, Stevie's rabbit's foot.

It's what he used to get himself through the dry spells.

Stephen Bachman had writer's block?

Of course he did.

Stevie was just as human as the next guy.

He called it his "golden ticket to success."

A fedora?

Well, a homburg, actually.

Oh.

They were very popular in the '40s.

Hm.

I hear Churchill wore one.

Hm.

Oh, Stevie. All those stories that just poured out of you.

Those brilliant dark fantasies.

Every single word you typed, this hat was there.

I'll never know why he just walked away from it all.

Hm. Anyway.

Unfortunately, none of this helps me, Nicole.

Do you really want to be the next Bachman?

Are you willing to make the sacrifices?

Take the risks?

Yeah.

Whatcha got there?

Oh, um, Nicole's attempt at cognitive therapy.

Let me see.

- Ah, a hat box. - An astute observation.

Hey!

A fedora. Nice.

A Homburg, actually.

Homburg?

Mm. It belonged to, uh, Stephen Bachman.

And Nicole gave it to you?

It's on loan.

She thinks it will inspire me, so...

Eh... eh... eh...

It looks good on you.

Like, really good.

Thanks.

Hold that pose. And don't take it off.

Hold it!

Yeah.

Oh.

Come on! Come on! They go together.

But you're not gonna post that, right?

- Oh, too late. - Ok.

- Ok. - Mmhm.

What are you looking at?

Hm.

Hm.

Ok.

Come on.

Come on!

Let's go.

Ok. Ok.

Alright.

Why won't you work?!

You worked for Bachman! Not me?

Come on! Come on! Work! Work!

Work, work, work!

Jay Stratton, you are a fucking-

- Genius! - Ha!

Didn't I tell you you'd come through?

Didn't I?

That you did.

We are putting everything behind this one.

Mark my words.

New York Times Bestseller. Hollywood bidding war.

Tom Holland canoodling with Zendaya at the premier.

This is a dream come true. I, I can't tell you.

Isn't it, darling? Isn't it?

Oh. But...

But what?

Well, the great Stephen Bachman was all about panache.

That epic series that hooks you and never lets you go.

That's what readers really want these days.

One-offs are... somewhat a thing of the past.

You think you have it in you...

or are you just like so many others?

Just a brief candle in the wind.

"Stratton's new chiller had me up at night

"praying for the dawn,"

The Chicago Tribune.

"A gloriously fitting finale.

"Stratton's imagination is vast, dark and terrifying,"

The New York Times.

"Stratton writes like one possessed.

"Gather around the pages of his literary campfire

"and he'll weave you a damn good yarn.

"For not since Bachman have we been this frightened

"out of our wits.

"This full of existential dread.

"God, he's a full on genius." Houston Chronicle.

Did you hear that hon? Not since Bachman!

Hon?

Everything alright?

Jay?

Jay, open up.

The ideas... flowing. It was incredible.

You have no idea.

I really have to learn how to type faster.

Three days.

You haven't come out for three days.

Sorry, I just, uh... Wait, three days?

But the awards, they were last night.

No. That was three days ago.

You know, you're not the only one with a deadline.

I, I haven't been able to get anything done.

If it wasn't for that constant noise you make typing

I would have called 911.

I'm starting to think you love that stupid hat more than me.

Astrid, don't be ridiculous.

I'm sorry.

No, really. Um, I'll try to be better.

I've just been on a real flow but that's no excuse.

It's ok, I understand. Just don't scare me again.

I feel like I'm entering one of your novels.

Jay?

I just...

Jay, are you ok?

Had an idea hit me. So beautiful and so brilliant.

I gotta go write.

Ah, yep.

Ok.

Yes.

Number one though.

Alright.

I...

What the hell?

Where's the hat? Where's the hat?

Ok.

Ok.

I don't need it. Jay, you can write without it.

Eh.

It was just Dumbo's feather. It was all me after all.

It was, uh...

Jay?

Jay?

I'm famished. I have to eat quickly.

More ideas, can't stop.

Aren't you going to take a break?

And risk losing all my ideas?

Hey, what's with the balloons?

Don't you know what day it is?

Oh my god, I forgot. It's your birthday.

I'm so sorry. Happy birthday, honey!

It's not my birthday, Jay. It's your birthday.

That's not possible. It's not even November.

Check a calendar, Jay. It's your birthday.

Uh, well, happy birthday to me then.

What is this?

You're holed up for days on end. You don't sleep anymore.

You can't think straight.

You don't talk to me and to be honest, you...

You smell.

That's right. You reek.

Would it kill you to take a shower once in a while?

Can't shower, the hat would get wet.

What did you say?

I said I can't shower, it would get wet.

The hat would get wet.

How about just taking it off?

I can't take it off.

And why not?

Because I have to finish the book.

It stays on until I finish the book.

Don't you get it?

No! I don't!

I don't get anything that's been going on in this house.

It's the big one, Astrid. An epic.

The one I'm gonna be remembered for, like Bachman.

I can't take off my hat!

Take off the hat.

- I told you I can't. - I said take off the hat!!!

No!

Give it to me!

It belongs to Stephen Bachman!

I can't take it off!

You don't have to leave.

You need your space, I need mine.

Jay, you need to choose between me and this obsession.

Ah, ah, ah...

No.

Don't go.

Hello?

Mr. Stratton?

Who is this?

This is May Johnson

calling on behalf of Mr. Stephen Bachman.

Oh. The Stephen Bachman?

The same.

Mr. Bachman was quite taken with your last novel.

In fact, if it's not too much to ask,

he would very much like to meet with you.

I'd like that.

Excellent. Would tomorrow work for you?

We can send a car.

Tomorrow's great.

Ok. Bye. Ok, hung up.

I'm ok, thanks.

Mr. Stratton, thank you for coming.

Mr. Bachman, I can't tell you...

The hat. My property stolen.

Well, it's mine now. Nicole gave it to me.

Liar.

Bitch. Took my hat.

Can't exist without.

Longing. Empty. Life meaningless.

Return to owner, to me, what is mine.

I think I better go.

Without the hat,

you are nothing more than a second-rate hack.

You are an amateur

unworthy of writing dime store greeting cards.

You are not worthy of it. Do you understand that?

I need the hat.

You cannot do this to me.

I need the hat! That is my hat! Stolen!

Give me my hat! My hat!

Jay's not here.

Please leave me a message after the tone.

These are some of your best pages yet, darling!

Keep 'em coming.

Jay's not here.

Please leave me a message after the tone.

They're incredible, darling! I can hardly keep up with you.

We're going to split it into three books.

And I hope you don't mind,

but I slipped a few thousand pages to Stephen Spielberg.

And he's making an offer!

Just keep 'em coming.

Jay's not here.

Please leave me a message after the tone.

Hey, just checking in to see how you're doing.

I got good news, I landed the Oppenheimer account.

They're using my design for that skyscraper.

I'm so excited.

Jay's not here.

Please leave me a message after the tone.

Well, well, well.

Darling, we're gonna have to split it into seven books.

You're almost there!

Jay's not here.

Please leave me a message after the tone.

Look, I've been away from you for too long.

I can't take it anymore.

I know the creative process can sometimes

feel like it's killing you, but you'll get through it.

Finish that book and come to my place. Please.

I love you.

What?

Ah!

Get the fuck off me! Fuck you!

Ahhhh!!!!

That's right, you just make sure he knows

he owes me for this one.

I gotta go, darling.

Why Jay, what happened?

You know exactly what happened! You knew all along.

Darling, darling, please. Let's not get carried away.

Don't fucking "darling" me, ok?

I asked you if you were willing to make sacrifices.

To take the risks, remember? I gave you a choice.

I thought you were talking creative risks not...

a fucking monster eating my brains!

Well, let's not act hastily...

We're done, Nicole.

But what about the manuscript? The deal with Spielberg?

You can't just walk away. You can't.

Watch me.

You wanted to be one of the greats.

You wanted to be another Bachman.

But there's a price to pay. A price, Jay!

You're right. I almost forgot.

Everyone has a price to pay.

Astrid?

Hey, hon. I'll be right with you.

Wow. Astrid, these designs are incredible.

Astrid, I'm so sorry.

I was such an ass... hole.

Astrid?

Hello, honey. I've never been more productive.

The ideas... they just keep coming.

I can't stop.

They just keep coming.

No. No!

Oh.

Oh, shit. You caught me.

No, no. This is too sweet.

Your table, madam. Breakfast for one.

You spoil me.

Well, that's my job. Plus, I love to watch you eat.

Oh, is that some weird kink I should know about?

Oh, it's just one of life's simple pleasures.

Hm.

Mm. It's amazing.

That's just the warm up. Tonight's the real celebration.

We have 8:00 reservations at Chez Jacques.

Well, what do I need Chez Jacques for

when I have a Michelin star chef of my own?

Let's stay in, hm?

A glass a vino by the fire and who knows?

You might even get lucky.

Hm. Just you...

- Hm. - Me...

- Mmhm. - And Jeanie?

- Oh! - Sounds kinky.

Watch it. She's my baby sister!

Uh... he wishes.

Good morning.

W-w-wow! I have never seen you up this early.

Eggs Benedict?

No thanks, I'm just gonna go back to bed.

But, I wanted to wish the boss lady a great first day.

Thanks, kid.

Alright, later.

Oh, and knock them on their ass.

Your baby sister.

You know, speaking of babies, I've been thinking...

Don't you think we should try again?

Your first day of your new promotion

and you're already angling for maternity leave?

Well...

I'll tell you what.

Why don't we talk about it tonight-

- Mm. - over a bottle of Bordeaux, hm?

Alright.

Congratulations, boss lady.

Ok.

Where the hell are you?

Oh! Sweetheart, thank god.

Mr. Nance?

Who is this?

Detective Kiernan, special victims unit.

I'm calling from your wife's phone.

We have a situation.

Excuse me. Excuse me, sorry.

Excuse me.

Oh, Jesus. That's my wife!

It's ok, officer. I'll take it from here.

Mr. Nance? I'm Detective Kiernan.

What happened?

Your wife was attacked going to her car.

- Is she... - Take a breath.

She's a fighter, Mr. Nance. She survived.

Well, did you catch the bastard?

No. A janitor scared him off,

saw his shadow darting across the wall.

The hospital will run some tests.

And when she's ready to talk

we'll see how much she remembers.

Thank you. Can I... can I ride with her?

Of course.

I'll have someone follow in your car.

Sweetheart.

Sweetheart...

Welcome home!

Mm! Oh my god, you're freezing. Let's get you inside.

Hey, babe...

Alright, open up. One bite.

Come on, Richard made it just for you.

Oh, good job.

I'm so sorry.

Don't touch me!

She's only trying to help.

You need to top off?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

She just needs time.

Yeah. It's all I've heard.

Thanks, Jean.

I wouldn't have gotten through these past few days

if it wasn't for you.

Well we're family, that's what family does.

Not my family.

My family runs at the first sign of trouble.

You thinking about running?

No. I just want my old wife back.

I don't know if April ever told you about what happened to me

back in Georgetown, but...

I was attacked on my way home from class and it broke me.

It truly broke me.

I was shitty to a lot of people back then,

but April never gave up on me.

And believe me, Richard, I gave her ample opportunity.

Something like this, it... it changes you.

It changes your DNA.

You know, I changed and I'm stronger now.

So... April will come back.

Stronger than before.

Jesus, it's like a morgue in here.

Yeah, she likes it dark.

You know it isn't healthy. She hasn't eaten.

We need to get her up on her feet.

She's refusing to walk.

Goddamn hospital. They sent her home too early.

She needs a doctor's care.

You have no fucking idea what I need.

Yeah, that's right, bitch. Earn your keep.

"Oh, Richard. I was attacked and it broke me.

"It truly broke me."

It made you a fucking freeloader is what it did!

April, please.

Charity ends... now!

Jean's not charity. She's family.

I want you gone.

She doesn't know what she's saying.

She's starving out of her mind.

Really? It sounds pretty on point to me.

Where will you go?

I... I still have one or two friends.

I'm so sorry, Richard.

Yeah. Uh-huh.

Um, I'm just on the corner of Ridge and Maple.

Alright, thanks.

Mr. Nance?

Ah, you must be Dr. Spence. Come on in.

How are you holding up?

Oh, you know...

Just taking it a day at a time.

It's all we can do.

And your wife?

Oh, my wife is gone.

Excuse me?

The women who I fell in love with is no longer here.

I see.

I'd like to check in on her, alone,

if you wouldn't mind.

I'll go get some air.

Oh, straight up those stairs. Last door on the right.

Mrs. Nance? My name is Dr. Spence.

I came to see if there's anything you need.

Mrs. Nance?

Hello?

Dr. Spence?

April?

Oh, Jesus.

Sweetie?

Oh, my god.

Hungry.

Ok. Hey, come on. Come on.

It's ok. It's ok. It's ok, sweetie.

It's ok. It's ok. I'll call for help.

I'll call 911.

Hungry.

There's not much there, sweetie.

She's drained. Fini.

You go wait over there.

I'll see what I can do with these leftovers.

No, no, Detective. No one's been by.

Positively.

Been at the house 24/7.

Oh, April's doing very well. Thank you.

Her appetite's come back. She is healthier than ever.

In fact, she's got me running all over town,

shopping for ingredients.

It's a very specialized diet.

Acquiring the correct elements has been a bit of a challenge,

but I don't mind putting in the work.

I'm a Michelin star chef, after all.

I was so worried I wouldn't be able to get through to her

but we've reconnected and we're doing better than ever.

Ok.

Yeah. Who's hungry? Look at that.

Next week's our anniversary. In sickness and in health.

I've got something special planned.

If... if I can pull it off. It's a real delicacy.

And then, after dinner,

we can get back to work on that family

that we've always dreamed of.

It's ok, it's ok. I better see who it is.

Who knows?

Possibly dessert.

You gonna let me in or what?

This isn't a good time. You should have called first.

I did call and text like 100 goddamn times.

Oh, my god.

Where is that smell coming from?

The basement. My freezer crapped out.

All my meats went to shit.

It's kind of a sin.

How's April?

She's coming along.

Has she been eating?

Christ. More than ever.

Well, I was hoping that she'd want to see me.

I've been having nightmares that she died.

What the fuck is going on, Richard?!

April sleeps in the basement now.

She likes it down there. It's quieter... less light.

Oh my god! Alright, move Richard.

Get out of my way or I swear...

April? It's Jean.

I'm so sorry.

What's that supposed to mean?

Sweetheart?

Guess who stopped by to see you.

April? oh god, April. Let me help you.

If you really want to help...

you'll be a good sister and let her feed.

No.

Ow! Help, please! Help me!

Woah, woah, woah. Are you ok?

No.

Is there someone I can call? A friend or a family member?

I don't have a family.

Well, lucky for you, I'm a doctor.

I'll take you back to my office

and we'll fix you up, lickety-split.

Do you like ice cream?

We've got a whole freezer full. Every flavor you can imagine.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

You'll have to check in with the nurse first.

She's right downstairs.

Go on. I'll go get my medical bag.

And the ice cream?

And the ice cream.

Happy anniversary, sweetheart.

Detective...

This... this isn't a good time.

I was in the neighborhood.

Thought I'd drop by and see how the wife's coming along.

Oh.

You left your car door open. I found this in the back seat.

That Dr. Spence, we found her car abandoned

on the other side of town.

That's where you left it, isn't it?

You want to tell me what's going on, Mr. Nance?

Let me out! Let me out!

Get away from the door!

- Please! Help! - Detective...

- Help! - You've got the wrong idea.

Now!

Help me! Help! Let me out!

Where the hell is she?

Hello? Hello?

Let's see what you got cooking down in the basement, Mr. Nance.

You lead.

Oh! Jesus.

What have you been up to?

Just looking after the missus.

What is all this?

What is all this?!

Special ingredients, picked fresh.

My wife subscribes to a very particular diet these days.

Meats, mostly, with a few additives.

Where the hell is the child?!

I... I... I... I believe that would be her over there.

It's ok. Don't be scared.

I'm a police officer.

Oh, my god.

I lost her that night. I was so sad.

Oh, oh my god, honey. Are you ok?

But you brought me back home.

And now, we can be a family.

Always and forever.

Hungry.

Hungry.

Hungry.

Hungry.