Original subtitles

I know you all were expecting Father Deacon this evening,

however, I will be filling in on his behalf.

They call me Mr. Monday,

named after the worst day of the week.

But, without Monday,

Saturday and Sunday would have no meaning.

-Can I get an amen? -Amen!

So, let us begin.

Before we give praise,

I'd like to share a story with y'all.

It's my favorite story,

one my son is quite familiar with.

Little Red, say hello to all these wonderful people.

If you're wondering why he doesn't look like me,

we're not related, not by blood.

What binds us together is fate.

One woman's trash

happened to be this old preacher's treasure.

Man was born with

everything he ever needed.

Yet still, he had wishes, had desires.

And one of those wishes came in the form of fire.

Fire gave us a lot to be thankful for.

Like what, Little Red?

A juicy charred steak.

What else, Little Red?

Warmth on a chilly night.

Yes, warmth on a chilly night.

Unless that fire were to spread, of course,

and decimate all in its path.

And that's how hell went from a fiery dimension below our feet

to sinners in dark alleyways

and serpents in the suburbs.

But, alas, man keeps wishing for those

flames and that wish keeps getting granted.

Ah, all right.

I hope you all were listening very carefully,

because I am going to quiz you.

Who do you think granted

man's wish for fire?

Anybody?

Who gave man fire?

Somebody must know the answer to this.

Here's a hint.

It's in this room.

I guess I can let you all in on my story

about who it was who gave man fire

all those centuries back

when civilization and time weren't even a thing.

It was me.

It's been 315 days since my life was taken from me.

What I am now is untouchable.

A leper of society.

I have been labeled a predator.

Accused of the most heinous crime there is.

Even worse than murder.

So why?

Why are you following around me, a now registered sex offender,

on the loneliest time of the year?

Because I'm innocent.

Framed.

By who? No idea.

The only clue I've got is an account called Fata Morgana.

The video they posted brought me to trial.

Fata Morgana.

It means mirage, and like a mirage,

whoever runs the account is nowhere to be found.

Not that anyone would believe my story.

Not the cops.

Not my job.

Not even my wife.

She wanted to believe in my wild goose chase.

But she just couldn't.

All right, I'm coming.

Oh, God!

Fuck.

Hey!

Get back here!

I should just let this go.

It's Christmas Eve, after all.

But he had to ruin a perfectly good pair of shoes.

Yo, yo, chill!

Dude, why would you do that?

-Yo, get off me, man. -You fucking ding-dong ditched.

You fucking left a flaming bag of shit on my fucking porch.

You piece of--

I got paid to do that shit.

It wasn't me, man.

Some guy named Fata Morgana or whatever paid me

to do this shit, man.

-It's not even me, man. -What did you say?

I said Fata Morgana, man.

I don't even know the fucking name.

What, Fata Morgana?

That-- Exactly that, what you just said.

That's the name. That's the fucking name.

You know who I'm talking about.

I'm sure you know.

It's been 315 days since my life was forever changed.

But tonight is different,

because Fata Morgana is finally back.

And I have proof this time.

Now, where is that damn cop assigned to my case?

There is nobody more disgraceful than those

who prey on our children.

But that doesn't mean you act on impulse.

He was a chicken hawk, Doc.

A registered sex offender.

I'd clock him in the milk aisle all over again if I could.

I can't clear you until I see some remorse.

So keep deflecting, and we'll have this little

song and dance into the new year, pal.

What's it gonna be?

I want you to look at this card again.

Allow yourself to be without judgment.

And whatever pops into your mind, no matter how

strange or unfamiliar that thought might be,

let it free.

There's a pot of gold on the other side

of the darkest of rainbows, pal.

A man.

I see a man.

You see a man.

How old is this man?

He's, uh, in his fifties, maybe?

I-- I can't put my finger on how old he really is.

He's a real person, you see?

No.

Not real.

I have this dream sometimes.

It's always the same person, but I've never met him.

It's almost as though the dream

belongs to someone else,

but I'm there witnessing it, like it's a memory.

Does he have a name, this man?

It's Monday.

What'd you say?

I have an opening on Monday the 3rd.

I think we should meet again.

We don't need to rush this process.

Look who it is.

So, they cleared you?

Back in the blue.

911, what's your emergency?

I need you to send an officer over.

There's somebody messing with me.

He ding-dong ditched my porch and left a flaming bag of poop.

We got a 594.

It's your favorite person in the whole wide world.

Should we send the rookie?

-I'm on it. -Is that a good idea?

Don't wanna fuck up like that again.

No.

Come on, Seal.

I know I heard something.

It was out here.

Hey, hey, stop.

Oh.

Surprise.

I, uh, I know you were hoping for someone else.

I was. What are you doing here?

I've got a front door.

Slipped right past it.

Seal, get inside. Stop.

You know, I'm actually here to apologize.

I shouldn't have shoved you.

-Shoved? -Laid a hand on you.

You did a little more than that.

You-- You knocked the wind out of me.

So, uh, I'm here.

Where is this flaming bag of shit?

Okay, hold on.

Pulling it up.

Officer, can you look at this?

Fata Morgana is the same username who posted the video.

And this is not a coincidence.

Someone's trying to spook you, pal.

Get you to leave town.

This is proof.

You're a cancer in the neighborhood.

Why don't you listen to me? This is the proof I needed.

Fata Morgana.

Don't make me watch that video again.

I'm trying to eat dinner tonight.

I would nev-- I was changing at the beach.

Who the-- Who the fuck doesn't change at the beach?

Then why did that little boy say you flashed him?

I don't know.

Because he was paid.

So the kid's a liar.

No, I'm not saying he's lying.

I just, I think that he might have

been staged to, you know-- Fata Morgana.

-You just-- You have to list-- -Fata Morgana. So-- Okay.

So some stranger has grand plans

of framing you as a pedophile.

Camps out in the beach parking lot all day

and-- and what, hires some kid to say that you flashed him?

I need you to believe me.

You know, I'm trying real hard

to stand here, and listen to you.

But I just feel dirty.

Wait, you're not leaving.

-What? -I said you can't leave.

I can't leave? I can do whatever the fuck I want to do.

-I didn't do anything. -What, you're going to hit me?

You're going to hit me?

Hit me. Hit me!

Get even.

Your kind is the lowest of the low.

Always pretending to be the victim.

But the children, the ones whose innocence

you chose to rob, those are the real victims.

I didn't do anything!

In case you're wondering, that's not my wife.

She had brown hair with a splash of blonde.

This is Karisma, a professional.

And she's part of all this madness too.

Things I do for a pretty girl.

I will make sure to show my appreciation.

Yeah, you will.

Slow down there, cowboy.

Your hour hasn't even started yet.

Why don't we start with a toast?

A toast? To what exactly?

Well, what do you want Santa to bring down

your chimney this year?

Well, he already brought that.

I can't wait to tear into it.

So, a lump of coal then?

This is good.

Let's do this.

It's not a proper Christmas Eve unless we're half in the bag.

You know that.

Hey, no, no, I don't want to get too drunk.

You don't need to worry about that because I always

come prepared, honey.

Well, Lester...

I think it's time to get a little more comfortable.

Shall we move this over to the lounge chair?

You ready?

-It's about time. -Okay, all right,

not too fast now.

Oh-- Oh. One limb up.

Come on. You are certainly tall.

Yeah.

-Okay. -Okay.

-There. -We're going to do this.

-Mm-hmm. -Mm.

-We're going to take you... -Yep.

-...all the way to the endzone. -Get me naked!

All right.

Massacre of one!

Massacre of one!

Hey, come on in.

-Hi. -Yeah. Hey, Karisma.

Hey, let's go to the bedroom.

Do you want to know what's on the menu

for this evening?

Why don't you read my mind like you did the last time?

Well, let's see. You don't want to do a bubble bath.

True.

And you've lost interest in getting straight to business.

Also true.

So, how about...

you stand in the corner...

...and do nothing but watch?

Well, no touching me, at least.

So, no touching, right?

I see you.

Uh, sorry. Sorry you had to see that.

Are you here for the sisterhood?

How can I help you, then?

This is going to sound insane.

I'm listening.

Has, um...

anything bad ever happened at this church?

-Bad? -I just have this feeling that

something died here long ago.

Something or...

someone?

Are-- are you sure

that there was never a massacre?

If there had been a massacre here, I would know about it.

The whole town would know about it.

- Karisma. - No.

Hey, Karisma, wake up.

You okay?

You leaving already?

Time slipped between our fingers again.

Break those strict rules of yours.

Stick around.

Know that I would,

but I have another appointment at sunrise.

Some fancy psychologist who works with fucked-up cops.

I think he's married. I don't know.

I hope you bleed him dry.

It's what I do best, isn't it?

Bleed men dry.

Except for you, of course.

What a compliment.

Actually, can you zip me up?

I think this is a two-man job.

Sure.

I don't take those anymore, by the way.

How's that?

I think that's perfect.

Are you all right?

Yeah. I'm always all right.

I got it, I got it.

All right.

There.

Can I ask you a question?

Sure, shoot.

Who is the man in the photo by the lighthouse?

Bernard.

Bernard, who's-- who's Bernard?

He was like a dad to me.

Godfather.

He lived up the street from me when I was a kid.

Taught me the difference

between a Phillips and a flathead.

And how to stand up to bullies.

Pop them in the nose. Strike first.

He sounds sweet.

He was.

Died of a heart attack, though, when I was 13.

I'm sorry.

It was so weird, because he was so healthy.

They found him in the greenhouse.

I don't know if he was gardening

in the middle of the night.

-Hm. -Then. I was stuck with her.

Who's her? Your mother?

Saved the prying for the therapist later.

Come on, baby.

Let me be your G-string therapist.

Ah. Another night.

Do you think I could get some coffee for the road?

Yeah.

- Thank you. - You're welcome.

You play poker?

Yeah, a lot of my clients happen to be fish.

Mm-hmm.

Oh.

Naked girls.

Yeah, I got that in a pawn shop last week.

Those women are all photographed in the '70s.

Bodies sure do not look like that anymore.

Great bodies, though.

What, are you into redheads or something?

I could bring a wig next time.

That's my fucking mom.

What?

Oh, fuck. This is my fucking mom.

You serious?

Yeah.

I recognize that red hair.

Jesus Christ.

Wow, what are the odds

that I have your mom in my purse?

Okay, I'll keep it.

-I don't want to look at it. -I'll keep it. Sorry.

Your mom, is she still around?

Nah, she-- she left last Christmas.

And by left, I mean she fucking died.

Chain smoker.

Nicotine poisoning, but that's her.

This has to be an omen.

Omen?

Yeah.

Yeah.

Sorry to Mr. Psychologist,

because I just got the stomach flu from bad ham

and I got the fucking runs.

Sorry!

You're staying?

I'm staying.

All right.

Maybe it is meant to be.

My mom believed in omens, too.

I don't know if you've seen our well out back.

I got a peek of it, actually.

It's a dry well. It doesn't work.

She would sit by that thing for hours,

smoking her cigarettes right down to the ash.

Making wishes.

What do you think she was wishing for?

That she had a girl instead.

Straight.

Give me more money.

She thought this fucking house was haunted.

That there were ghosts stealing her silverware

and going into her little pack of Salem cigarettes

and flicking them out.

A ghost?

I don't know, lately I feel like I'm being watched, too.

Maybe you are.

I know the feeling.

It's like when I meet a new John.

I always know what he wants me to do before he even asks it.

Yeah, us men are predictable like that.

Yep, you're all freaking cavemen.

Cavemen want fire.

And boobies.

You are an idiot.

-Yes, I am. -Yes, you are.

But seriously,

I know what all my Johns really want

beyond what they say they desire.

It's like I can hear things that no one else can.

Hear things?

Explain.

Massacre of one.

Does that mean anything to you?

Massacre of one?

Is that what you were dreaming about earlier?

I don't know, I keep-- I keep seeing this church

and it just seems so real,

and I just-- All I know,

is that tremendous pain happened at this church.

And that it has something to do with a robot lady.

Robot lady?

That's who told me, "massacre of one."

It came from a clock radio,

and it had, like, this robotic voice.

Like there was a woman under there. Trapped.

An electrolarynx.

An electrolarynx is what you're talking about.

It's a hole right here.

My mom had one.

They put a voice box in.

And it made her sound...

like a robot.

Did you look me up?

No.

Well, I mean...

yes, just-- just the way that I look up all my Johns.

I didn't do what they all think I did, and they accuse me of.

I believe you.

I lost everything all the same.

Don't Salem, don't do this.

I had a life. I had a wife.

Salem.

Please don't do this.

Don't.

You don't understand.

Somehow, you're...

You're the link to everything that I've been seeing.

Salem, where's my cigarettes?

-Salem. -This is fate.

My mom was right.

There is a ghost in this house.

And it's fucking me.

Please don't make me go.

Get out.

Our hour is over, and it's time for you to go.

Hm.

Great.

Nice. Bye.

Why did I do that?

Push her away?

Maybe I have become cold.

Here's the thing.

There's no way my mother would be talking to me

from beyond the grave.

We didn't even talk when she was alive.

So, if she's trying to send me a message,

it ain't about no massacre.

Yes, I'll marry you.

Salem?

Salem.

Wake up.

Red...

hair.

Officer, we have a 207 in progress.

-Kidnapping. -Right now?

Yeah, right now.

I just received this really eerie call.

The kid kept saying he was trapped,

that he couldn't free himself.

He sounded drugged, to be honest.

Did-- did-- did you get a name?

It sounded like he said "Monday."

Maybe a last name.

Bandini, you gotta get over there.

I think something horrible's happened.

Oh. Feeling so good.

So good, baby.

This your house, ma'am?

Nobody's supposed to be upstairs.

I'm looking for a bathroom that's not occupied.

Do I know you from somewhere?

Doubt it.

Just rolled through with some friends,

looking for a good time.

Now, I gotta take a mean leak.

Don't worry, I'll lift up the seat.

Are you with the police? You're a cop?

I am.

I'm looking for a kid here named Monday.

The call came from this house, so I know he's here.

You mean Monty?

Monty?

Of course, he's in this house. He's my son.

There's no way he'll call the police.

Not on his own party.

You must have the wrong house.

Where is he?

I think he's somewhere in the madness down below.

Or maybe with a girl.

I've been told to stay in my room, and be quiet.

Like a mouse.

Then you won't mind if I take a quick look in there?

I do mind, actually.

Because I have company who wants to be alone with me

on Christmas Eve.

Strange to lock it from the outside with someone in there.

There are people who come to parties just to steal jewelry.

You staring at me?

Tell me what you want. You cannot be here!

This is my house!

You got 50 underage kids drinking themselves

into oblivion.

I got a million reasons to be here.

And you're going to give me that key, right now.

Okay. Okay.

Nice, and slowly.

Shit.

Come on.

Okay. Okay. Okay, okay.

We're going to get you out of this.

I'm a cop. Hold on.

Do not touch him.

Do not touch him.

Sit the fuck down, ma'am.

You're making a huge mistake.

I said sit, you twisted fuck.

Don't talk to her that way.

Listen, you've been drugged, okay?

You called us. Remember? It's over.

This woman can't hurt you anymore.

She's not hurting me.

Did you call the police, Monty?

Of course not.

-Mom. -Wait, you're Monty?

Hey. Do you have a warrant?

If you don't, you're invading my privacy.

-We're going right now. -No!

I'm not going anywhere!

You don't have a warrant. You can't come to my house.

Daryl, I need backup immediately.

-Bandini? -Yeah. I went to the house.

There's something fucked up going on.

I need more officers.

What house?

I'm here. I found him. His name is Monty.

Not Monday. He's all twisted up, Stockholm Syndrome.

Don't let him take me, Mom.

Thinks his captor is his mom.

Looks like she may have had her way with him.

Wait, are you actually at someone's house right now?

The kidnapping! You gave me the coordinates!

I haven't spoken to you since you left the station.

Knock it off, Daryl. I need assistance!

Officer. Officer.

When's my backup here, Daryl?

Get out of there, now. Right now.

I can't leave him.

You don't have a choice.

Is that you?

Is-- is that my backup?

Whatever you're doing, whatever you're seeing,

just come back in the daylight and do it by the books, okay?

Because they'll hang you for this, man.

I won't leave.

Officer, I know it's hard to understand

what you're seeing, but I'm not in any danger.

I know you think you're in control here, Monty,

but that is not what's happening.

Listen to me.

You're gonna wake up one day,

and wish you had come with me tonight.

You'll see this for the way that I see it.

This woman may be your mother, but she is preying on you.

And this will haunt you for the rest of your life

unless you come with me, right now.

I am...

18!

I've been waiting...

until he was of age.

This might be taboo in modern society.

It's illegal, and a crime.

Bandini, what the fuck?

Show me your warrant.

Get the fuck out of my house!

I'm gonna find a way to stop this.

Don't come back.

Please!

If anyone reports this...

we're gonna be humiliated.

And I don't ever...

want this to stop.

Officer, wake up!

Mr. Monday, take off your mask.

Wake up!

- Mr. Monday... - Not in the face!

take off...

the mask!

What do you see?

Does he have a name...

this man?

No. No name.

It's Monday.

That's what he goes by.

Not while I'm shaving, Little Red.

Could have nicked myself.

We don't want blood all over the carpet, do we?

I don't like it down here.

There's a tranquility, living below a church...

which you can't find anywhere else.

Can a camera steal someone's soul?

Have you been talking to Father Cochise?

He said you could get trapped in a picture.

What about a video camera?

Can that steal your soul, too?

I don't know. But I can tell you one thing.

I wouldn't want to be stuck in a polyester prison.

I can tell you that.

What's polyester?

It's what film is made of.

Put your hat on.

Salem.

Salem, is that you?

Hey, baby.

Is everything okay?

Yeah, I'm with Seal right now.

Seal.

What, does he remember me?

Oh, he still remembers.

You still smoking?

Oh, I'm not smoking anymore.

Nine months.

12 days.

I shouldn't have called.

No, I'm glad you called.

To be honest, I keep finding myself thinking about you.

You do?

Yeah.

And I just...

I just want to tell you that I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that I had to leave. I just...

I just couldn't take it anymore.

Because everybody kept looking at you a certain way.

Looking at me a certain way.

I just couldn't take it anymore.

But I know you didn't do it.

I know you didn't do it.

Why did you have to go to the beach that day?

I don't know.

Why did you have to go to the beach that day?

I wish that I hadn't.

Sorry.

Sorry. Um...

It's just late, and I really wasn't expecting

to hear your voice, so...

I'm gonna go to bed.

Bye, Charlotte.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

I need a fucking cigarette.

I know I left a pack in the shed.

I'm breaking, all right?

I don't want to be like her.

With a hole in my neck.

But I'm my mother's son, I guess.

All alone.

In an empty house.

Trying to make sense of things I can't explain.

Those are not my cigarettes.

Bernard.

Bernard.

I see you.

- There he is. - This is my property, you know.

There you are, Bernard.

Can't you see what I can see?

Don't you fucking ding-dong-ditch me!

I see you. I see you.

I'm calling the cops.

Hey, Bernard.

Man, it's raining cats and dogs out here.

Thank you. I'm soaked.

Whew! Through here?

Oh, this is-- this is nice and cozy.

Can I use a bathroom?

Salem!

Bernard.

How's school been?

School?

You're in the seventh grade?

The eighth?

I'm a little fuzzy.

I'm sorry.

I'm a little confused.

Bernard,

do you know where you are?

You know, if anybody ever bullies you on the playground,

pop them in the nose.

Right in the tip of the nose. Make them cry.

They'll stop right there and there.

You gotta go first.

You know, just for effect.

You might get your ass kicked, too.

You know what this is?

A cassette.

It might look like that.

But it's a polyester prison.

And I'm trapped inside.

A prison?

And he might take my soul.

But he'll never take my memory. Ever!

I promise, I'm not gonna forget you, Bernard.

I'm gonna remember this.

I'm gonna remember this.

Bernard?

Bernard?

K?

You look like shit.

Thanks.

Why is it so dead in here?

Last Christmas it was a madhouse.

I guess people are staying off the naughty list.

Would you like to have some time on the stage?

I want sleep.

Don't look so miserable, okay?

You've got every man in this town lining up to have you.

I know I did, when I was in her place.

I would have loved to see you in your prime, Thorn.

Start again.

Yes, madam.

So who's the job?

He's some wealthy therapist,

but I don't know.

He's not answering my messages.

Show up unannounced.

And what if his wife answers the door?

See if she wants some company, too.

Perhaps he can give you some insight

into why a pretty girl like you

ended up roaming the streets.

It's always the same.

Same start.

Isn't it?

An uncle.

No...

a stepfather,

with a wandering gaze.

More than a gaze.

Don't make this job a repeat, K.

Karisma.

Your nose.

You using again?

No.

Is she, Jewels?

Probably.

You don't even know me.

I've heard about you.

I'm not using.

I don't know why my nose is bleeding.

Snow turns escorts into whores.

No one pays good money for a whore.

They pay for a woman.

A woman they can play, pretend with, imagine

love might be a blossoming between the sheets.

Then I'm done.

I am so fucking done with this.

I'm done with you.

This ain't a pit stop, sweetheart.

It's the destination.

The final one for our kind.

So you better take advantage

while you still have your looks.

Only one.

Suffering.

From the monstrosity.

Massacre.

One.

Oh, God. No!

Shame you got your mother's hair.

Her hair's red, too?

A burgundy beauty, she was.

With a pack of Salem cigarettes strapped to her tank top.

Don't know why I told you that.

Although you're old enough now to know.

How old are you, anyway?

Nine.

Hmm. I thought you were younger.

How much money do I owe the curse jar?

Thirty-two dollars, I think.

You get me that,

and I'll tell you how you can find her.

Deal?

Deal.

Who is that?

That would be your mother.

She showed up on the doorstep

of one of the churches I was working.

With you in her belly.

And a past that needed cleansing.

She stayed a while.

And after she gave birth to you,

I was sure she'd said goodbye to the whore of Babylon

that coursed through her veins.

She didn't say any goodbyes at all.

Don't go looking for her, Little Red.

It's like the story of fire.

Man wishes for it.

Thinks it will take his demons away.

But he only ever gets burned in the end.

Polyester prison.

Never-ending loop.

What's happening to me?

Did I destroy that tape?

Salem, my sweet boy.

Stop watching me.

Okay?

Stop.

I just want to be left alone.

Never!

But now, I have this.

I have fucking this.

And now, I'm seeing things that I can't explain.

And I need you to fucking leave me alone.

Salem, are you gonna get me my cigarettes?

You're nothing but a pile of ashes in there.

And you weren't anything to me when you were alive.

And you're not now.

Don't forget about my cigarettes!

Let me sleep.

And not have to fucking think about any of this.

The well?

Ah!

Ah!

Ah!

Wake up.

Wake up!

Salem.

It's good to finally meet you.

You've been down here

this whole time watching me.

Watching.

Wondering what it is that drives you.

Is it the cop?

The cop who never believes you?

Or the pink-haired whore who plays pretend beyond the book?

No.

No.

What drives your beating heart is something

you will never get back.

Your beautiful wife.

I needed to turn her against you.

And then it hit me.

What if...

...I make you untouchable?

Who could ever love a sex offender?

And here's the rub.

All it took was a kid who wanted to make

a hundred fucking bucks.

You took everything for me!

Well, you're in luck.

We're beneath the wishing well.

And if you want to have it back,

all you gotta do...

...is make a wish.

Did you make your wish?

Your mother.

Did she ever tell you she was a dancer?

Dancing for strangers with singles and slimy fingers?

Who's down there?

She had a stage name.

Called herself Fata Morgana.

I know someone's taken my cigarettes.

Fata Morgana.

Give me my cigarettes.

She loved her cigarettes

more than her own children.

Children?

I feel for you, Salem.

All I do, every night and day is...

feel for you.

Really, endlessly.

Make me look pretty!

May not have left you outside

a church for the buzzards, but...

she might as well have been a ghost,

caring for you the way she did.

I would have known about you.

You knew exactly what kind of woman she was.

Bringing life into this godforsaken world.

Discarding you, leaving nothing but a card.

And so I tracked her down, to this house.

Only to find her do the exact same thing.

Leaving you, Salem,

a nine-year-old boy,

in the filthy paws of a man she hardly knew.

Bernard.

Bernard's not who you thought he was.

No. No, no, no, no.

Bernard.

A real lesson for the young, and helpless.

He was good. I know it.

What, you think he cared for you?

- I know he did. - Salem, open your eyes.

You took him from me.

Salem, you have no idea

what the Bernards of the world are capable of.

Behind closed doors, when the lights fade,

when the eyes are off.

You know what I got?

I got... Monday.

Monday.

A different breed of monster.

A man who made me participate in his massacre.

Massacre?

Massacre of one...

What is the massacre of one?

Only...

one...

suffered...

from the monstrosity.

Little Red, what were you doing out there?

Where is everyone?

Who?

The people that were in the church earlier.

I listened. I heard them.

They weren't laughing.

What?

The gas doesn't make things funny.

It kills them.

Kills who?

Did you hit your head or something, Little?

What did we do to them?

They went home, like they always do.

Church is over.

Now you and I can have some peace and quiet.

At least for another seven days.

Why don't you be a good boy,

and go downstairs and draw a nice, warm bath.

It's going to be an extra cold night.

It may even rain.

Do you remember where the bubbles are?

I don't want a bath. I want to know what happened.

Enough!

A boy needs to bathe.

Now, go downstairs, and get the tub running.

That man...

He forced my hand. He forced...

He forced me to be a crazy part of his sick,

twisted fucking sermon.

God, help me!

God, help me, God, help me.

God, help me!

Fuck, that's good.

Enjoy your last breaths.

- It's like the good stuff...

at the dentist.

It makes everything funny.

Can a camera...

capture a man's soul?

There are no clothes allowed...

in my polyester prison.

Take off that stupid suit and tie.

What-- what are you talking about?

They dropped the case, baby.

Yeah?

A kid came forward.

He testified, and said that someone paid him

just to stand there and scream.

It's finally over.

It's over?

You were just changing out of your wetsuit, for Christ's sake.

I know.

I mean, who doesn't show skin at the beach?

Nobody believed me.

Nope.

I believed you.

How should we celebrate?

How should we celebrate your new lease on life?

Yeah.

I think there's some champagne in the fridge.

Champagne, it is.

All right.

You wait right there, okay?

I told you, fucking set up.

Nobody fucking believed me. Never did.

You believe me?

Does he have a name, this man?

Monday.

And he called me Little Red.

There is nobody more disgraceful

than those who prey on our children.

Leaving already?

Karisma?

Karisma?

Boo.

It's been many years since my life was taken from me.

Baby, I got your favorite.

Let's drink.

315 days ago, I took it back

the only way you can...

by force.

I am not the boy below the church anymore.

What I am now...

is whoever I want to be.