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[spooky rock music]

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: This is the story of our friendship.

This is the way it began.

Hey.

Hey.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: A lot of things

have been said about Jackson--

what he is, what he did.

But this is who he always was to me, before the bad years--

GUARD: Lights out!

[yelling]

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: --and what happened.

Jackson was a good kid.

He was an altar boy, for Christ sakes.

If this were any kind of world except the shithole that it is,

things might have been different.

REPORTER [ON TV]: Tragedy today, in the city of South Greenwich,

Rhode Island.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: But I'm getting ahead of myself.

First, you need to understand some things

about us, who we were.

Most of all, you have to understand where we come from.

This is South Greenwich, Rhode Island,

the shittiest fucking place on Earth.

This town was built around a couple factories.

The biggest one, Smith Brothers, used to make

gas masks and other stuff.

You know, safety equipment.

That's all gone though.

Jackson grew up on the poor half of town.

I grew up on the better side, where

everyone lived off credit.

Champagne lifestyles and ginger ale budgets,

my mom used to say.

No matter which side you were on, though,

the bastards were always right at the edge of the clearing.

I'd already learned that early on.

I need to get by.

This is our path.

You gotta pay.

- Who says it's your path? - This does.

Tony, go long!

TONY: I'm open!

Aw, aw, aw--

[laughing]

I just want to go.

Then you have to give me a kiss.

[crickets chirping]

[microwave beeping]

EMILY'S MOM: Hey, baby.

Did your father call?

No.

You want dinner?

EMILY'S MOM: Oh, no, honey.

That's all right.

Mommy's so tired.

[pounding]

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: I remember the day

Jackson came to our school.

His mother transferred from a job in Jersey

to be closer to family after his father's accident,

not that they knew any of that.

All they knew was that he looked dirty.

His clothes were wrong.

That was enough.

He was at the bottom of the food chain, which took

some of the pressure off me.

[laughter]

For a while, I guess that was good enough.

[whistle blowing]

Let's go, let's go, let's go!

I want to see some freaking bodies hit the floor.

Jimmy, good hustle, buddy.

Come on, let's go!

Emily!

This is the fourth time this quarter

you have failed to bring your gym clothes.

You are now officially flunking this class.

Are you aware of that?

[whistle blowing]

Everybody stop.

Jackson Marshall, get your skidmarked shorts

to center court, now.

Let me ask you something, Jackson.

Do you need to go to the bathroom?

Are you sure you don't need to take a dump or something?

No, sir.

Well, then maybe you could tell me

why you're running like you have a load in your shorts!

[bell ringing]

[laughter]

Get out of here.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: I'm told that some people

cherish their childhood.

My mom always talks about being young and beautiful

and the world being full of possibility.

But for some of us, we were ugly.

There was no possibility.

Some of us were told right off the bat,

there's no room for you here.

Nobody wants you.

There is nowhere to run.

[music playing]

And we are going to eat you alive.

[intense music]

[music playing]

Hey love, where do you go?

I am flying.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: It's a jungle in here--

predictable and cruel.

[indistinct slow motion voices]

But then one day, Tony Brown and his whole fucking family died.

Tony Brown was a rotten little fucking asshole.

Used to hang out with Jimmy Falco and the rest of them.

[moaning]

Apparently, Tony's father worked a whole lot,

and his mom was left feeling somewhat--

unfulfilled.

[moaning]

So she had started getting fulfilled

by one of her coworkers on their lunch break.

Somehow or another, Tony's dad found out.

So one day, Tony's father took his lunch

break early, and chopped his wife and her boss

up in the bedroom.

[hacking]

[blood splattering]

They said he kept chopping them up even after they

were dead, like wood.

That part I remember particularly well.

Tony's father waited patiently for two hours

until he got home from school.

Then he shot Tony at close range with a rifle

and hung himself in the backyard.

[organ music]

Honestly, so what?

There's one less asshole in the world--

four less, if you count the adults.

And when it comes to assholes, you

can count these people twice.

[indistinct whispering]

[WHISPERING] Emily, sit down.

Everybody can see you.

Ow!

PRIEST: Good morning.

On this somber occasion, I have chosen as the subject

of this homily a passage from Paul's letter

to the Ephesians, chapter 5, verse 22.

"Let wives be subject to their husbands as to the Lord,

because a husband is head of the wife,

just as Christ is head of the church,

being himself savior of the body."

Wives, submit to your husbands.

How simple is that?

What we have here is the failure of a woman

who sinned against God and against her husband.

And what is the result of that?

Her son is lying in that cold, gray casket right there.

A boy-- a dead boy.

And where is his mother right now?

In a fiery lake in Hell, with an entire eternity to answer

the question, was it worth it?

Iniquity, infidelity, infidelity, fidelis,

faith, infidelity, unfaithful.

Wives, submit to your husbands.

Should we help it?

Yeah.

[music playing]

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: From then on, we were friends.

[music playing]

We grew up as friends in this pretty little town that

was rotten to its core, surrounded on all sides,

wondering which of them would be the next to explode

like Tony Brown's did, or produce some new breed

of homicidal monster.

Maybe it would be that one.

Maybe it would be our own.

And years later, when Jackson started crossing the street

to avoid walking in front of that old fucking church,

I never needed to question why.

I already knew the answer.

[whistle blowing]

Let's go, let's go!

I better not see any of my football players dogging it.

Come on, go!

Atta boy.

Come on, ladies.

Aw, Paluca, Jesus.

Come on.

Your ass is dragging in the dirt.

Move it!

Emily, I'm a broken goddamn record for six years--

once again, no gym clothes.

And once again, you're failing gym class--

unbelievable.

What are you reading?

Sylvia Plath.

Sylvia who?

[WHISPERING] Sadly--

I want to see you in my office before the end of the day.

What about?

Just do it.

Before the end of the day, just be there.

[INDISTINCT VOICE OVER LOUDSPEAKER]

EMILY: You wanted to see me?

Yeah, come on in, Emily.

Sit down.

Have a seat.

I wanted to talk to you about your little performance

in class today.

Emily, you ever wondered why you can't seem to focus,

why you just don't fit in?

I mean, have you ever wondered, like, where's the fucking beef?

Um--

I want to show you a book, Emily.

It's a book that saved my goddamn life.

I'm sorry.

I don't mean to curse in front of students, but it's just you

and me, so fuck it.

Anyway, I was at the absolute worst part of my life,

going nowhere--

no direction.

I was a weird little loser like yourself.

And this book-- this book brought me out

of that nose dive.

And I want you to have a free copy of it.

I want you to read this, Emily, and I want you to look

at yourself in the mirror.

And I want you to ask yourself, where does my power live?

Where does your power live, Emily?

Where does my power live?

Yeah.

Hm.

Anyway, good talk.

Oh, and hey-- please, do me a favor.

I'm asking nicely.

Wear your motherfucking gym clothes tomorrow, will you?

Oh, and hey-- stay away from that Jackson Marshall kid, too.

He is the weaker twin that you're in the womb with.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: About that last bit,

he may have been right.

I always knew that Jackson was different.

He felt things differently from the other kids.

Some things he felt more, some things he felt less.

[airhorn blasting]

Jackson!

Jackson!

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: I guess I should tell

you about Jackson's parents.

That's something people always want to know about--

what were the parents like?

Well, ours were pretty average.

JACKSON'S DAD: --and this fucking mess!

[coughing]

Now get over here, and fucking clean it.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: By the time I knew Carl,

he just sat in his chair all day drinking and staring at the TV.

He was paralyzed, had awful spasms

that would come in the middle of the night sometimes.

Sometimes the muscles in his chest

seized, and he'd have to be injected with a muscle relaxer

so it didn't squeeze him to death like a boa constrictor.

Most days, he just shit his pants.

Jackson's mother hung around for the disability

and what was left of his savings.

But she was out of the house a lot.

Jackson didn't feel things like the other kids.

But I believe that it was Carl who taught him how to hate.

[loud tapping]

[gunfire on tv]

Fuck, I need some fucking ammo.

Yeah.

It shows I'm gonna win.

Bitch.

[jackson laughing]

You know that the Beach Boys recorded a song

that Charles Manson wrote?

That's weird.

Did you know that the Manson family killed one of the guys

with a bayonet? - Really?

Stabbed him in the throat with a fucking bayonet.

Huh. Were they Civil War reenactors?

No, they were hippies.

Fuck.

Where did you go?

Right-- here!

[gunshot]

Fuck!

God, I hate this fucking game!

Chill the fuck out.

Goddamn.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: And then one day he broke.

[liquid pouring]

One day, Henry Pacula decided to piss into his shampoo bottle.

As Henry later told it, it was a long, healthy piss.

Jackson!

[laughter]

[indistinct taunting]

[yelling]

Get the fuck up off him!

The little fuck!

I'm gonna fucking kill you!

[yelling]

PRINCIPAL: You want to be talked to like you're here, Jackson?

Well, you're not going to be here for very long.

Let me tell you that.

But you know what I think?

I think that you're a little weasel, a degenerate,

a grade D piece of shit!

What you did to that boy is inexcusable--

cheap shot, rotten.

He's at the hospital right now trying to get his thumb

sewed back on for Christ sakes.

They doubt he'll ever be able to use it properly again.

If you were my kid, I would get you home as soon as possible

so I could mete out the most severe punishment of your life.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: And that was the end of Jackson,

as far as most people were concerned.

He was one of those whatever happened to's.

Although later, they all pretended

they were close with him.

When they had microphones in their faces,

everyone had a story to tell.

The truth is, he disappeared.

Most people forgot about him.

And he even stopped calling me.

He said he had a lot of appointments

and he couldn't go out anymore.

I had my own shit to deal with and forgot

about him for a while.

[music playing]

When my friends have all run out I'll ask, how did I get here?

[phone ringing]

PETER KELLY [ON PHONE]: Hi, this is Peter Kelly.

Please leave a message.

[beep]

[music playing]

When my money has all dried up to dust, how did I get here?

When my family has packed their things and left,

how did I get here?

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: God, such a fucking cliche.

[music playing]

Wait here.

Follow.

[water running]

[music playing]

Where was I?

[microwave beeping]

[music playing]

When I get the pictures all set out, now I belong here.

[dial tone]

[emily screams]

[music playing]

When I understand the way I live alone, now I belong here.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: There he was, Prince Charming, always

there in the nick of time.

After my mom's incident, he started

coming around a bit more.

Which is what mom always wanted, ironically.

I guess she found where her power lived.

I think that was around the time that Jackson met Mr. James,

who was supposed to be like a mentor-slash-social-worker,

or some shit like that.

He was appointed by the district to check in with Jackson

for the curriculum.

But then, sometimes, he would do stuff with him, too.

Mostly, he took him hunting.

They met at his house, once.

Jackson saw his gun collection.

And that was it.

Sure, in retrospect, this all probably seems very obvious

and clearly a bad idea.

But you men and their bonding bullshit.

Jackson's father probably said--

It's good for the boy to learn how to shoot.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: --or some stupid bullshit like that.

The dude thought he was Robin Williams starring

in a movie about himself, not arming

the next white-boy terrorist.

Finally, some positive reinforcement.

He got fired two months later.

A cop pulled him over with a bag of coke a 17-year-old.

But thanks for the weapons training,

Jiminy-Fucking-Cricket.

That summer, we were 18.

Jackson played with guns.

I played with drugs.

They didn't really do much for me.

Lost my virginity, read On the Road injected a speedball

unfortunately, I may have overdid it, went to rehab,

came back.

She's here.

I'd like to report.

What the fuck is this?

Well, hello, there Emily.

Now, Emily, you and I have had run-ins in the past.

You're always pretty tough to get through to.

But I tried.

I really did, precisely because I

didn't want us to find ourselves in a situation like this.

Hmm, and what kind of a situation are we in,

Principle Elwood?

Well, Emily, we're in a situation

where we're going to have to make some tough calls.

We have a he-said, she-sad.

It's a misunderstanding.

Now, I understand that you were out partying last night

with Jimmy Falco and some of the boys,

and something might have happened, which is delicate.

I don't know if you're aware that some of the boys you named

are very important members of our football team.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

These are the good kids, Emily.

Now, listen to me.

The fact is is that you are one girl with a history of drug

use, intoxicated at yesterday evening's party,

where we have witnesses who say you

were attempting to score drugs.

Now, we can't-- we can't, with any certainty,

believe that your version of the events is truthful.

Well, I certainly don't mean to fuck with anyone's

version of the events, sir.

But does their version happen to have any explanation of this.

Now, Emily, Emily, I want you to believe me.

I'm going to have a good, long talk with those boys.

Ah, fuck you!

All right, OK.

This fucking town can suck my dick!

Nice.

Little cunt!

Are you feeling today, Jackson?

What?

I asked how you were feeling today.

All right.

You seemed to be off somewhere just now.

What were you thinking about when you

were looking out the window?

I was thinking about Mercy Brown.

Is that a friend of yours?

Jackson, do you ever think about hurting people?

In what way?

I don't know, when you attacked

that boy in the shower, did you think about doing it?

Sure, those kids are assholes.

Do you think they deserved what you did to them?

I'm supposed to say no, right?

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: She was a lazy shrink.

And she never followed up until the police

were questioning her.

So let me fill you in about what Jackson was talking about.

Mercy Brown, that's where we got the name everyone

made such a big deal of.

That was our club of two, the Friends of Mercy.

When we were 13, Jackson's mom bought him a book of haunted

places in Rhode Island.

The only one we could ride to on our bikes

was the one in town, the grave site of Mercy Brown.

We hung out there sometimes.

Once, I did a school project on her.

She died in 1892, just a little over 100 years ago.

Mercy Brown was the daughter of a Providence store-clerk.

Two months earlier, her mother and older sister

had died of consumption.

It was decided by her doctors, due to her pale skin,

bloodshot eyes, and rapidly failing

health, along with the sensitivity to sunlight,

that the family were being attacked by vampires.

She was whipped.

She was prayed over.

She was stripped and bathed in ice.

She was made to drink the blood of her dead mother,

which her family kept at the advice of their doctors.

Of course, it wasn't vampires killing Mercy.

It was tuberculosis.

So she died.

Then, in January, her brother, Edwin, got sick.

He was the only boy in the Brown family,

and the heir to their name.

The Brown women were all dug up.

Their coffins were pried open.

And the men of the village gathers around.

Even the local paper was there.

Mercy's body had only been in the ground for two months.

The others had been buried longer.

Because her body was in better condition than the others,

it was decided that Mercy was the vampire who had been

feeding on the Brown family.

And so her heart was ripped out of her body,

staked in front of the camera, and burned at the graveside.

I knew what he meant when he asked

me about it, which means I also knew better than to say so.

Mercy wasn't a vampire, just a sick kid.

But that didn't mean there was no such thing as vampires.

The so called Friends of Mercy killings in Rhode Island--

Police are learning more today about the Friends of Mercy,

two local teens accusing of killing--

And Commissioner, what do we know

about these Friends of Mercy?

Jackson, I think we're having trouble controlling your anger.

Now, I'd like to talk to you some more in the coming months.

In the meantime, what I'd like to do is start you

on a regimen of a pill called vestitrol,

which will help to regulate your moods,

and keep these kinds of outbursts under control.

There will be some things you need to know, however.

You may experience suicidal thoughts

while on this drug, Jackson.

You may also experience some nausea, and a kind

of dissociated feeling, as if you're

viewing your life through a pane of glass, or in a movie.

If that happens, you need to talk to me about it.

[music playing]

[heavy breathing]

[shouting]

[muffled speech]

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: They fed him pills until his tears dried up.

Oh!

We got another fucking job here.

Let's go.

Doctor 37 years--

Come on.

[shouting]

[shouting]

Lights up!

[woman moaning]

[shouting]

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: Three months later he passed an evaluation,

and they let him out.

For a while there, it was cool.

Like old times.

Like we found something good about ourselves

that we lost touch with.

We were older, weirder--

but it was cool.

We even opened up the old fort for business.

[laughter]

[slow motion shouting]

Hm.

Anything?

No.

I think you have a saliva problem.

Me?

Dickhead.

I hate this church.

Yeah.

Somebody should burn it down.

You want to see something?

Keep it in your pants, will ya?

Whoa!

Holy shit.

Check it out.

Hey!

Shit!

My mom tried to kill herself.

You're an asshole.

Relax.

Safety's on.

Here.

It's lighter than I thought.

Where'd you fucking get a Glock?

For my birthday.

I've got six guns in my house now.

I've been stashing a few extras in the woods.

Jesus, kid.

Prepping for the zombie apocalypse?

See that light?

[gunshot]

[car alarm]

Come on!

Dude!

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: This was the last of the good times.

The rest of the shit I've been over 100 times in my head.

I can recite it from memory, like the Pledge

of fucking Allegiance.

Once the news media gets a hold of things, they're ridiculous.

So I felt it was important to keep

the facts together for myself.

On October 3, or October 4th, I was smoking weed

in Jackson's garage, and he was telling me about this drill

press he bought.

He was all pumped up about some tool.

I didn't understand, and I was fucked up and Instagramming,

so I was half listening to begin with.

But he said he was learning how to convert his gun.

And I didn't know what that meant.

He was nervous he was going to fuck it up,

because the gun was expensive.

I remember that.

But I mostly figured, whatever.

More gun bullshit.

[rock music]

[scribbling]

[gasping]

Jesus!

[groaning]

Jesus.

Jesus!

[music playing]

NEWSCASTER: Hi.

This is--

[gasping]

NEWSCASTER: We should expect to see a few light

showers up north of--

[gasping]

NEWSCASTER: Expect temperatures to be in the mid

to high 60s for the rest of the week.

Perfect to get that--

[gasping]

NEWSCASTER: Well, thank you, Tanya.

That's good news for all of us here at Providence.

And that's a wrap for tonight's edition of Rhode

Island Channel 13 News.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: On October 27th,

he called me to help move his father's

shit out of the living room.

It was two days after the funeral.

Jackson was off his meds.

His mom, and everyone seemed super pumped

about how well he was doing, and his therapist was talking

about him finishing school.

He was really coming along.

Then, while I was there, he took me in his room

and showed me a blueprint he made of the school,

using real blueprint paper.

It was pretty accurate, too.

He said he'd scoped the whole thing out himself.

He seemed very impressed with his ability to do that.

I asked him--

Why?

Because someone should put this rotten fucking town

on the map.

So um--

I guess that makes you the, uh-- public city agent?

Right?

What makes you think this place

is shittier than anywhere else?

Huh?

Give me a fucking break.

No, OK, don't give me that!

Because you of all people should know!

I get it, OK?

I understand.

But this?

This is just some fucking rockstar cowboy bullshit, OK?

That's with that is.

Fucking grow up!

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: If he had listened then,

all of this might never have happened.

[alarm beeping]

Jackson?

Your goddamn alarm is going off!

Jesus!

With this kid--

[alarm beeping]

[screaming]

[schoolbell]

[beeping]

[siren]

Jackon Marshall!

Do not move, or I will shoot!

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: And then he was gone again,

and this time it would be for good.

Wasn't even on the national news.

Something like this happens literally every week

somewhere in America.

You need a body count of 10 now to even stand a chance.

But it gave the locals something to talk about for a day or two.

SINGER: There's broken pieces in our path,

but even broken bones--

NEWSCASTER: Jackson Marshall was arrested

today on charges of conspiracy to commit a mass shooting.

Police are interviewing him as we speak, after Mr. Marshall

was found to be in possession of a large arsenal of weapons

outside an area high school, which

police have now confiscated.

[bell ringing]

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: Jackson was never cut out for it.

What was it Coach Griffin had called him?

The weaker twin?

I guess that makes me the stronger twin.

The one who survives.

Who doesn't get caught.

Who blends in--

Shh.

Be quiet.

Let's see what you're made of.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: This is the story of our friendship.

And this is the way it began.

Jackson had it all wrong.

And who could blame him?

Motherfuckers are running the whole world.

Not just at school.

That was only the beginning.

They were winning everywhere.

[music playing]

[soft music]

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: Everywhere is too much

stuff to think about, though.

So kids attack the world they know.

But it's stupid.

It's pointless.

Short attention span, look at me bullshit.

That's where I get off.

Some people think it's the guns, but I know better.

It's not the guns.

It's deeper than that.

Since Mercy Brown, since all the way at the beginning.

America is a dead kid powered engine.

But when a thing needs doing, you

put your shoulder to the wheel, and by gosh,

you get it done yourself.

Yeah.

Yes, John.

Yes, I absolutely think it's gonna work out this weekend.

Oh, yeah.

Yep.

Yes, I'll be sending over some volunteers

from our youth program.

Yeah.

Yeah, I think you're going to find that they're some really,

really fine young men.

You betcha.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah.

And uh-- you know, I want to thank you so much

for the, uh-- the donations.

Very much appreciated.

And I wanted to tell you that we--

we are very grateful for the work you're

doing over at the high school.

And that the faculty and student body are in our prayers.

Yes, indeed.

Well, you know what?

Our mutual friend will be in touch with you

about this weekend, and yeah, I hope you enjoy the boys.

Oh, yeah.

Yes, indeed.

And-- I can't wait to hear all about it.

Yeah.

OK.

Yup. OK.

Yes, you bet.

Goodnight.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: The problem with today's kids?

They want to do everything the easy way.

I have money.

Say cheese.

[music playing]

Mm, mm, mm.

Fine young men is right.

Knock, knock, knock.

Don't move.

Don't move in any way.

Remember me?

Emma?

Emily!

Fuck.

Emily.

Wow.

What the fuck?

Let's make a deal?

Hm?

You stay quiet while we do this.

I'll clear your browser history.

You promise?

Yep.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: Nope.

Now, I'm willing to, uh--

look the other way here.

But if you scream--

we have to do it the sloppy way.

No!

And I just won't have time to clean up any messes.

[crying]

That a boy.

That a fucking boy.

Now, what we have here a he said, she said, um--

misunderstanding.

Remember how you and your pals were

never quite sure if you could trust a drugged out bitch?

Well, guess what, you fucking shit bird?

Please!

I hope you can fucking trust me now!

[grunting]

Long time, man.

Yeah.

MAN: Oh, no.

[laughter]

MAN: Oh, there we go.

[music playing]

[laughter]

[music playing]

[gunfire]

[screaming]

[gunshot]

Mary Stevenson-- nice tits, big ass.

B. Chad?

Hm.

Chad.

D. Minus.

[phone ringing]

Yeah?

Coach here.

Hey.

Coach Griffin?

Hey.

This is Emily Kelly.

You're never going to fucking guess

whose phone I'm calling from.

You with Jimmy Falco tonight?

Yeah!

We're all fuckin' partying, and shit.

He said you were fun to party with.

Why don't you come on out, party with us, huh?

We're all just chillin' at Jimmy's trailer.

You ever been?

Yeah.

I was out there just last week.

So you're partying out there, huh?

EMILY: Hell yeah!

Come on out here.

I wanna see you.

I bet you can teach me some tings.

Well, I don't really know if I should.

I mean, I'm pretty, you know?

But-- I guess maybe I could swing

out there for a little bit.

Excellent.

I'll see you when you get here.

Stud.

[phone ringing]

Hey.

Bacula, you old piece of shit.

What are you doing?

Yeah I'm out here at, uh, Jimmy Falco's place.

Yeah.

You can come out here.

Just give me some time, cause I am closing in

on some sweet pussy that I've been working on

since she was in sixth grade.

Yeah.

Naw mean?

Oh, yeah.

Yeah.

All right.

Check you later, masturbater.

Yeah!

Fuck.

Oh, coach is here?

Let's all fuck some more.

[screaming]

[grunting]

Coach-- I figured out where my power lives.

[gunshot]

Oh, yeah!

Woo!

We are the brave!

Ha!

Hey!

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: If it isn't Henry

Bacula, of piss bottle fame.

What the fuck?

Coach? Oh my god.

Oh, fuck.

Whoa!

[squish]

[camera snapping]

[music playing]

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: It must have been something in the air

that night.

Or maybe it was just some fucked up, mutant strain of mother

daughter DNA that we shared.

She knew it was over before she saw me.

Before I said anything.

And she seemed-- relieved?

Like I had freed us both.

This is where your father stays.

With his bitch.

That teacher of yours.

Hopper.

Emily-- you always were such a good girl.

[music playing]

You've had a hard day, pussy.

Are you stressed today?

My little pussy?

That's OK.

Mama's got a big, big dick that's

gonna make you feel all better.

Come on.

Ralph wants to see.

Come on.

Get it.

Get it!

You know you want it.

Get it!

Come on!

EMILY: What the fuck?

Well, goddamn.

I was not expecting this.

Emily, what-- Emily, what are you doing?

Wow.

That is a mighty big dick you have, Miss Hopper.

Would you like to see mine?

Emily!

Ah!

[gunshot]

[crying]

Listen-- I think I'm a pretty open minded person.

So I don't want you to think that I'm

judging this in any kind of like, objective way.

But you know-- in a more personal way,

I am really, very disappointed in you right now, Dad.

I have a message for you from Mom.

[music playing]

Yeah.

Well next time, you're getting coffee.

[gunshot]

[gunshot]

[gunfire]

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: This is the story of our friendship.

Well?

You gonna try to kiss me again?

Go on.

Come on.

Head start's all you're gonna get.

EMILY [VOICEOVER]: A lot of things

have been said about Jackson.

What he is, what he did.

What he didn't do.

But this is who he was to me.

He deserved a chance to run away.

Grow up.

Figure out what his life could be

like somewhere else, in a place where no one knew him.

As for me?

I found a place, too.

Where people are simpler.

Easier to understand.

More honest.

I feel quiet here.

Better.

Besides-- they know better than to try me.

[music playing]