True Fiction (2019) Movie Script

(metal clanking)
(ominous music)
[over the radio]
Give me authenticity.
(woman whimpering)
Feel it. Make it count.
Come on!
(whimpering continues)
(whimpering continues)
(whimpering continues)
(whimpering and screaming)
Good... good.
(screaming continues)
(screaming gets louder)
I just... thank you.
I know I don't have
the formal credentials
some of the other girls have.
Well, what are your
informal credentials?
Avery Malone.
Well, I'm passionate.
I'm committed.
I have good work ethic.
If I were to pick one
of my flaws, I'd say--
Just, just, pretend
you're sitting where I am.
Tell me what I want to hear.
OK, um.
You're an aspiring writer.
This could be quite
the opportunity for you.
Believe me,
I would do anything--
Are you a starfucker?
You're young, sweet, polite.
That's all
well and good.
But we really
only have one concern
and that's selling
our client's book.
He needs an assistant.
Not a writer.
That's his job.
A wannabe' writer
is just a distraction,
so which are you?
Or a distraction?
An assistant.
What do you have that
our other applicants don't?
There's nothing special about me.
That's something.
Look, I know I don't
have the formal training
or special skills.
But I do know books.
All books, especially his.
I learn fast.
I don't have anything
that I can't walk away from.
Look, anything Caleb Conrad-
...your client.
Anything your client wants
me to do, I will do it.
Look, I-
I really need this.
Take off your shirt.
Thanks for your time.
I said I'd go along
with this, but if this
turns into a legal
shit storm it's your ass.
Get in.
You may not have seen our
next guest's face before
but you've
read their words.
Please welcome
best-selling author
and winner of this year's
National Book Award,
Avery Malone.
Now lets get serious
for a second.
Your book, it's not
entirely fictional, is it?
I'm sorry,
If you don't--
No it's okay.
Sure, uhh
there are some parts that
hit close to home.
Your sister, you mean.
[Co-worker on phone]
Yeah. Just a second.
Hey, Avery?
Called a couple times.
Must be important.
- Thanks, Henry.
- Yeah.
Um, hey.
- Avery Malone?
- Uh-huh, yeah.
I'm calling about your interview.
You got the job.
(Avery screams)
[On the phone]
- Sorry.
- I'll forward the details.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Derlain House.
Mr. Conrad's favorite residence.
Ms. Malone?
Your bedroom.
You should have all services
and anemitie- anemities-
Your phone.
No phones.
No Pictures.
What if I need to make a call?
No distractions.
Thank you.
To Ms. Seville,
England, St. Petersburg,
December 11th, '17.
You will rejoice to hear that
no disaster has accompanied
the commencement of an enterprise
which you have regarded
with such evil forebodings.
I arrived here yesterday,
and my first task is to assure
my dear sister of my well fair,
and increasing confidence in
the success of my undertaking.
I am already far north, London,
and as I walk in the
streets of Petersburg
I feel a cold northern
rains lay upon my cheeks,
which braces my nerves
and fills me with delight.
Do you understand
this feeling?
This breeze, which has traveled
from the regions toward which
I am advancing gives
a foretaste of those icy climbs.
[Loud slam]
A page turning tour de force.
Brutally divine.
Caleb Conrad takes his throne
as the new King of Macabre.
That was in my room.
It was on my desk.
- Are you-
- Did you bring your writing?
No. I mean-
I was told not to.
Do you always do
what you're told?
I'm Caleb.
And you are?
Are you sure?
I am.
I mean-
See I-
I didn't know it was you.
You've never shown
your face before
so I just didn't know,
but it's you.
You're Caleb Conrad.
Guilty as charged.
The public demands a face to the art.
These days you would think
the life of the artist
is more important
than the work itself.
Doesn't your real life mean
more to you than your books?
Would you still consider
the Mona Lisa a masterpiece
if Da Vinci was a thief
in his everyday life?
What if Shakespeare
was a murder?
How would you feel
about Hamlet then?
Artist's lives are boring,
horridly so.
That's why they create.
Where they live, who they love,
their families,
that's not important.
What's important,
what matters is the work.
Whether it is interesting or not.
Well I find you interesting.
Well, you find
my work interesting.
As a person I could
be someone else entirely.
How would you know?
I think I'd know.
Well, lets just say my work is
the most interesting
thing about me.
Then I guess
I already know
everything interesting about you.
Well, lets see if
this interests you.
A game,
two players,
for our book.
Of all that I've written,
which is your favorite?
Virgin Red.
Besides that.
At Midnight, probably.
Both written in my twenties.
I'm not interested in
writing fiction anymore.
I don't have one last
great novel in me.
I want the real thing, sincerity.
Purposeful exposure
to the purest emotion.
This game is a controlled
experiment in fear.
Why fear?
What else is a horror author
qualified to write about?
It'll give me a chance
to study true fear.
To document it and control it.
Understand it.
So you want me to
be your guinea pig?
Not without your consent.
This game, it'll
help you write again?
The novels, I mean.
All I know is that fear
is to horror writers
what sugar is to candy.
It's an essential ingredient.
It's a means to an end.
This contract,
it's merely a formality
it states you accept liability
in the unlikely event
that something might happen.
It's really more
for my protection.
I can be pretty unpredictable.
As I predicted.
What else did you predict?
What if we write a boring book?
A fate worse than death.
I need another writer.
I need you.
Or perhaps I should
look elsewhere.
If sugar is what you need,
I'm your Willy Wonka.
Well then lets consider
that your golden ticket.
In the next couple
of days we will do
an in depth analysis
of your personality.
Your fears.
Your desires.
It will take some time,
but when it's over
we can begin writing.
We will build a narrative
catered to your profile.
Dive into what makes you tick.
I can't promise it will
be a pleasant experience,
but if we do it right...
I'm your Willy Wonka.
[Soft voice]
Okay. Good.
How do you feel?
Good. Yeah.
Do they just give
these things to anyone?
Lie detectors?
Are you female?
What? Um...
If my questions seem
arbitrary or personal
it's because
I intend them to be.
Your favorite book
is Virgin Red?
Are you a virgin?
Yes, no.
- Easy.
- I'm not though.
Calm breaths.
The machine is registering
that I surprised you.
Your parents, were you close?
- My father left us--
- Yes or no answer, please.
Have you murdered anyone?
Does fear prevent you from
pursuing your dreams?
Have you ever suffered
from symptoms of depression?
Would you describe
yourself as socially isolated?
Would you describe
yourself as fulfilled?
Are you scared yet?
Scared? No.
Absolutely terrified.
How long do I have
to stay in this thing?
Sensory deprivation doesn't
really have a time limit.
What if I freak out?
I'll be right here by
your side the whole time.
- Okay.
- Okay.
I'm going to put
the mask on now.
Caleb, take it off.
Caleb, Caleb, I can't breathe,
take it off.
Caleb, take it off.
I can't breathe.
Let me out!
Let me out!
[Soft voice]
It's okay.
Come on, it's okay.
I'm right here,
I'm right here.
It's OK,
it's OK.
You did great.
We need to stop.
I knew there was a risk,
but this early your reaction
I could never have predicted.
I want to keep going.
I want to finish.
What did you see?
You said you
didn't know your family.
I said I wasn't
close with my parents
but it wasn't them
that I saw, it was-
it was my sister.
You never mentioned
you have a sister.
I don't know.
They never found a body,
so I don't know.
After mom was gone...
...we were so young.
She, uh-
She'd always leave.
I don't know where'd she'd go
but she always came back.
And then one day she just-
she didn't.
She would have been
in her twenties now.
She would have been a woman.
What about your family?
I think that's enough for today.
That footage
of me in the video
how did you get it?
It came from inside my room
and my door was locked.
I'm not mad or anything,
I just, I just want to know.
I made that video years ago,
it hasn't changed since.
So that's just part of it then?
Part of the game?
It was there.
I saw it.
You're the perfect candidate,
You're prone to paranoia,
suspicion, doubt.
It's all here in the tests.
You've given me more
than enough to work with.
True Fiction.
About you and I.
You're here to inspire me,
aren't you?
I've never been in a book before.
Well, you relate to the
heroes in the stories you write.
Don't you?
Not mine.
Stay with me on this.
There, there's someone
in my room there.
There, there, there,
he touched my head.
There, there, there,
the glove was right there.
Did you not see
him touch my head?
Who touched your head?
Play it again.
I saw it.
Saw what?
It was- it was right there.
Okay, Avery.
It was there.
It was right there.
You don't look so well.
I can fix you something
else if you want.
I'm okay.
So did you read
the pages that I left?
- Yup.
- And?
They're okay.
Any ideas on
how to improve them?
Yeah. You need more stakes.
Your character doesn't
have enough stakes?
My character is fine.
She has fears
and insecurities.
Every little detail
is out in the open.
It's your character
that needs work.
I don't know
who Caleb Conrad is.
What are his fears?
What are his motives?
Who is he
on the inside?
What's the
point of all this?
Why should I care?
Point taken.
Thank you.
Caleb is a has-been.
He lost something vital to him
and he wants it back.
His fear is that
it's gone forever.
And that it's his fault.
He hopes that he can
get it back someday.
Or accept it if he can't.
And maybe all of this...
...this will help.
How's that?
He sounds more human.
What are you doing?
I just-
needed to go out for a
minute and get some air--
Did you hear
something just now?
No. Why?
You didn't hear
someone screaming
a few seconds ago?
Yeah that was me.
I thought
I saw something
so I screamed and
I couldn't sleep
so I was walking around
and I thought I saw
something but I didn't and
that's why I needed
to get some air.
Can you open
the door, Caleb?
What did you see?
I thought I did
but it was nothing.
You're lying.
No, I'm not.
You are.
Now what did you see?
- The door is locked--
- Forget the fucking door!
It's locked.
And it's going to stay that
way until the book is done
because that's the deal, right?
Now, show me what you saw.
Are you coming?
So this is the last room.
Are you satisfied?
There's no one here.
- Get back!
- Hey, hey.
Calm down, calm down.
- Get away from me.
- What did you see?
Just- just stay back.
Tell me what you see.
The woman in the corner.
The corner?
There, the woman right
there in the corner.
This corner?
This corner here?
Hey, hey.
Calm down.
What is it?
What is she doing?
I don't know,
she's hurt.
She's screaming.
You can't hear her?
Which woman?
She's there.
She's right there.
- Is she over here?
- No.
This woman?
(woman screaming)
Avery, come back.
Avery, open the door.
Open the fucking door!
- Shit.
- Avery?
(pounding on door)
I think we should talk.
It wasn't supposed to
play out quite like this.
Tell me how to get out.
Open the door and we'll talk.
I'll get
things on track.
This whole thing never happened.
We're going to be
waiting quite some time
if you don't play along.
I'll wait as long
as I have to.
Will you?
You're scared and confused.
I get it.
And maybe this wasn't such
a good idea after all
but that's okay,
because what is all of this?
Do you remember?
It's just a game.
Open the door.
Okay, clearly this
wasn't going to work out.
I thought you wanted to find
some purpose in life,
I thought we
trusted each other,
but if you want to
quit then it's done.
Game over.
Alison, come here, please.
Alison, meet Avery.
Avery, this is Alison.
I think you two have met.
Alison is an actress.
I hired her
to play in our game.
Didn't I, Alison?
- Yes.
- There, it's done.
So how about you open the door
and we have
a laugh over some wine?
Fair enough?
Alison is shivering
like a leaf over here.
I don't know what this is.
If it's a game I don't
want to play anymore.
I want to go home.
It's over.
We're done.
But I can't let you out
if I'm locked in here, can I?
Open the door.
(Alison screaming)
Stop. Stop. Stop.
Please, stop it.
You did this.
You did!
There's not an exit
I haven't sealed.
Nowhere that you can hide.
And I will find you just
like I found the others.
People know where
I am and who I'm with.
And who are you with?
You didn't
stop to think of
the sheer absurdity
of it all did you?
That you were hired
because you were
Caleb Conrad's biggest fan?
That you deserved
this over the others?
That you're special?
It doesn't matter.
They know I'm gone.
They'll come looking.
Come looking where?
To an address
you never had?
What's that
matter when there's
no one to look
for you anyway?
That was why
you were chosen.
You're alone.
No family.
No friends.
You're the perfect candidate.
Hell, you were
the only candidate.
I'm sorry.
I know. It's okay.
Get back up to
the room and wait.
I know what
you're thinking.
I cheated.
It's not fair.
I think you'll forgive me
when you read these.
Allow me.
Avery snapped awake
keenly aware that
someone or something
was active on
the second floor
of Derlain House.
Okay. I'll skip
to the good stuff.
Over the radio she heard
her master's unknown accomplice
the menacing shadow of Derlain,
"The Third Man."
That's my homage.
Why are you doing this?
Perhaps another time.
Now, you can put the knife down
and we can talk
like two mature adults.
Or you can
restrain me with these.
I would like
to elaborate
on why maybe this
was a bad idea.
Can I have my
typewriter at least?
Stop talking.
The sooner
we finish the book
the sooner
you get to go home.
The room was occupied
for quite some time.
That much was evident
from the soiled clothing
and congealed food.
A radio hissed white noise
punctuated by a voice.
Her master's voice.
Did you see
The Third Man?
Seeing her machete
wielding neighbor,
What secret passageways
did Derlain House
have in store for her?
You're lying.
Of course I am.
But it makes
for a better read.
Bound by his work
The master knew for certain
two things:
he was less afraid than she,
and he knew exactly
what she was thinking.
- He's listening.
- Yes.
- He knows where we are?
- Yes.
Call him.
Finish it.
Because it's bad writing.
I need a hero.
Give me something
to work with.
Use your imagination.
(Alison yelling in distance)
Who wrote this?
You don't like it?
You've been here
the whole time.
How did you know the
exact room I was in? How?
If there's a detail off,
I can fix it.
I just want to go home.
- Please, I won't tell anyone.
- Avery.
I promise.
Avery, you're doing so well.
I'm not. I'm scared.
Look at me.
Avery, look at me.
We've got some
really good stuff here.
Let me out of
this fucking house!
The pages are sincere.
Stop it.
Brutally divine.
Let me go.
Let me go.
We're done.
Hand me the keys
to the handcuffs.
I said we're fucking done.
Take the cuffs off.
In my bathroom.
83-41-24 is the combination
to my safe in the bathroom.
That's where the keys
to the front door are.
Thank you for trying.
I can't say it won't
make for a shitty short.
Fit in with the
rest of my work.
Do you want them?
As a keepsake?
Read them.
Tell me what you think.
Can you read them aloud, please?
All outcomes are predictable
thought the master.
Whether or not they are
predicted correctly
is another matter altogether.
Had Avery turned
left instead of right--
It rambles for a little bit.
Get to the last couple of pages.
Despite herself, she pressed on.
That tiny
malignant thought
never entirely left her mind.
It's just a game.
Rationale betraying instinct.
It's just a game.
Even as she read these words,
her instincts fought valiantly.
Run now.
Run, for God's sake run
and don't look back.
Run you stupid bitch.
He's right behind you.
Your brother,
he was the driver?
What did you do?
I'm going to go home now.
Avery, what did you do?
What did you do to him?!
What did you do to him?!
Don't leave!
Avery, don't leave me!
Don't leave her
like you left your sister.
Where is she?
The girl, Alison.
Where is she?
- I don't know.
- Yes you do.
I don't!
Jesus Christ.
She was an actress.
I hired her for a role.
This is a game, remember?
I'm not playing anymore.
I don't know where she is.
She's in the
house somewhere.
She goes from
room to room.
She's coming with me.
- What?
- I'm taking her away from you.
When we get to the hospital
I'm going to tell the police
all about this game
that you and your brother
like to play
with young women.
She knows to stay put
no matter what I say.
But you can
talk to her.
If she's in Colton's
room she'll hear you.
You talk to her.
Alison, it's over.
You can come to the library.
Colton Conrad.
Brother to Caleb Conrad,
that's good.
I swear to God
it's true, Avery.
And Alison, she's an actress?
Caleb's secret mistress?
Caleb's worst
isn't even that bad.
Who are you?
I'm Caleb.
Look at me.
- I'm Caleb Conrad.
- No.
No. He wouldn't do this.
He wouldn't hurt someone.
Not like this.
Not for a book.
Your signature
was the first tell.
You don't really get it,
do you?
This was all
part of the plan.
I saw the book when
I went inside your room.
I deliberately falsified
my signature.
Don't you see that?
The rest of it,
it's all in your mind.
And you acted exactly--
Exactly as you predicted?
Sign it.
- What?
- Sign it!
I learned his signature too.
Alison, run!
You can't just strap it on
and expect it to work.
You have to calibrate
it to the individual
otherwise it's unreliable.
Are you a man?
Yes. I'm a man.
Oh, for Christ's sake.
This isn't exactly scientific.
Are your eyes brown?
Stop this.
Answer it.
Yes they're brown.
Is your real name, Caleb Conrad?
State your name.
Caleb Conrad.
Say it again.
- Caleb Conrad.
- Again.
- Caleb Conrad!
- Again!
Caleb Conrad.
Born to Darlene
and Frank Conrad
November 11th, 1965.
Moved to Indiana,
Indianapolis when I was 12.
Graduated cum laude from
the University of Notre Dame.
Married and divorced
before I was 30.
Sold a few good books
and many more shitty ones.
No family.
Just a younger brother,
Colton Conrad.
There's nothing on Caleb
to verify his birthday,
his age, his parents.
It's like he's a ghost.
Why did you choose me?
I don't know.
You got the job because
you fit the position.
How many times have
you sent fan mail
to someone you admired?
And how many times have you
gotten back a personal response?
Not some form letter
by a secretary
but a personal response?
I read everything
you sent, Avery.
I know who you are.
What you love.
What you hate. What you fear.
How you can't move on
and the guilt you
feel when you try.
It's your sister.
Don't you see that?
It's her.
How do you think
I constructed all of this?
A woman taken,
held against her will.
A woman who needs
to be saved.
That was all for you.
You were
going to save her.
You were going
to save your sister.
You don't know who I am.
Tell me, what hurts more?
That she was
taken away from you
or that she left
by her own free will?
You got the job because
you fit the story.
There was no exclusive open call.
There were no more applicants.
There was only you, Avery.
And you took the job.
You took the job as I predicted.
As you predicted.
You couldn't cut
through those cuffs.
What are you doing?
You almost had me believing
you with that story.
Get on the ground.
Avery, whatever you're
thinking of doing
don't do it.
Maybe you practiced
your routine long enough
to beat the lie detector.
Coached your brother
into playing along.
Get on the ground.
Don't make me
ask you again.
Sorry about the ether.
The headache should pass
once the painkillers kick in.
Sorry about that.
Let me get these for you.
Here you go.
That's better.
Avery, what are you doing?
What is this?
Well, that machine
told you all about me.
Now it's going to tell
me all about you.
I told you everything.
What do you
want me to say?
That you're a killer of women.
Avery, please.
Whatever you're thinking
of doing don't do this.
Oh, you know what this is.
You should.
You wrote it.
"At Midnight."
Help me!
Help me!
When Dr. Sydow was forced
to torture his own patient
to save his missing wife
he cut off a finger
for every lie.
Only he had the proper
tools and anesthesia.
Answer yes or no.
Pinky first.
This isn't you, Avery.
You wouldn't do this.
Your brother, he was the driver?
Was he going to kill me?
See, I told you.
It was just a game.
Hold still.
I don't want that
to get infected.
Yes or no.
Do you understand?
Do you understand?
Hold still.
Your ring finger.
is she in the house?
I don't know.
No. No!
Is she in the house?
Yes or no.
Yes. No.
You don't know?
Did you kill her?
Do you love her?
Do you love her?
I don't love her!
Don't you fucking move.
I came back for you.
You back away.
Back the fuck away from me.
I came back for you.
What did you
fucking do to him?
Oh God, Caleb.
Look at me. Look at me.
Stay with me...
You crazy fucking bitch!
You're going to rot
in a fucking prison cell!
You had a family.
Or daughter?
Caleb, the game is over.
What do you mean, neither?
An abortion?
What were you going to name it?
You were going to name it,
weren't you?
Every child I've ever
written has had a name.
Every one.
Avery, what are you doing?
If they don't
matter they burn.
Avery, please don't.
My family
was taken from me.
But you, you left yours.
It was never a family.
They were living,
breathing real human beings
not like your fucking books.
They mattered.
No, stop!
Not the pictures!
Because they
don't belong to me.
They're not
mine to destroy.
They're not-
they're not
anybody's to destroy.
I'm not Caleb Conrad.
And I never was.
But I'm not a killer
or a psychopath either.
I got hired to play a role.
I'm an actor.
I needed the money.
You're an actor?
You let me cut off
your fingers, kill two people,
because you're an actor
that needed the money?
I didn't let
you do anything.
You did that all on your own.
But you went
along with it anyway.
For these.
They told me the rules
and I played by them.
What do you,
what do you want from me?
You want me to prove it?
They gave me a number to call.
There should be a phone
the top drawer in my desk.
Yes, I need to speak to
Peter Lavigne, please.
I'm one of his clients.
I need to speak to
Peter Lavigne, please.
Thank you.
Peter, it's me.
I need to speak
to Caleb Conrad.
No, listen to what I'm saying.
I need to speak to
Caleb Conrad, please. Yes.
I need you to put
him on the phone.
Okay, I got a little bit
of a situation here.
It's regarding his next book.
He needs to call it off.
Yes, thank you.
He's going to connect you.
Caleb's going to talk
to you personally.
Caleb Conrad?
Yes. That's right.
For me?
Uh huh.
Oh my, God. It's him.
Yeah, I've been better.
It's complicated.
Look, I just want to
say that I'm really sorry.
I--I didn't know.
Okay, I promise.
Mr. Conrad,
can I ask you a question?
What was the name of the actor
that you hired to play you?
Yeah, his name,
what was his name?
What's your name?
Peter, help me!
She's got me
chained up! Peter!
Just as I predicted.
Avery, no, no, no, no!
Mr. Croft, I told you he'd
see you when you take a seat.
Mr. Lavigne?
Shred these.
Is it about Caleb?
Not now.
C'mon, pickup the phone
you fucking hack.
[Voicemail] Please leave
a message after the tone.
Hey baby.
Peter here, just calling
to check-in on ya.
Look, uh, a little
creeped out by your call.
Gotta call me back.
Don't make me drive all that
way just to mess with me.
Okay? Call me.
Hey Charlie.
Mommy misses you so much.
I've been working,
really hard on my book.
I'm going to be
back soon, okay?
So I just want you
to be a really good boy
while I'm gone.
Mommy loves you very much.
Bye baby.
I want you to know,
I'm finishing the book.
My version.
I'll have to make
a few revisions,
but make no mistake,
I'm the hero of this story
and you are my muse.
You're safe, Avery.
Everyone who knows what
happened here is dead.
Not everyone.
This is not your fault.
None of it is.
I think you should say something.
Something worthy
of an ending.
A Caleb Conrad ending.
Well, go on, say something.
You want an epiphany?
An arc for my character?
How somehow this all changed me?
Opened my eyes?
I was a bad husband.
An unkind brother.
An ungrateful son.
And I would have been
a terrible father too
had fate allowed it.
No, no that's
not good enough.
My life has never meant
as much to me as my work.
You had a life.
You let it die, nameless.
Well that really doesn't
matter much now does it?
I was hoping you'd give me
something better to work with.
Use your fucking imagination!
(Caleb yelling)
This doesn't have
to end like this.
Wait, wait, wait!
You don't have to write
the ending of the story
I already wrote it.
It's an old writers trick.
You create the ending
you want to see
and you write towards it.
The pages are in my desk.
Second shelf.
I'll still be here
when you're done.
Just, tell me what you
think of the ending.
Don't move.
You still couldn't cut
through those cuffs.
As predicted.
Did I do good, Caleb?
Stop it.
- I'm sorry.
- Stop it.
Stop it!
She took the keys.
Even as he read these words
his instincts fought valiantly.
For God's sake,
It was good.
The ending, it was real good.
Especially the part
where you kill me
and dedicate the
book in my memory.
It's just a novel, Avery.
I swear.
Then you go on TV You
show your face to the world
and you're famous again?
I can't breathe.
I like that part.
The world deserves
to see your face.
Except you're
missing something.
You don't want fame,
you want her.
You want your wife.
That's why you
can't write anymore.
But I'm here now.
I'm your muse,
and I'll make you write.
Now this...
...this is an ending.
You may not have seen our
next guest's face before
but you've certainly
read their words.
Please welcome,
best-selling author,
Avery Malone!
- Hey, Avery.
- Hi. Thank you so much.
You're very welcome.
Take a seat.
Your book,
True Fiction, it's awful.
No, the book.
You know what I mean.
It's awful,
what happened to you is awful
because the story, it's not
entirely fictional is it?
No, none of it is.
The chance of a lifetime
the opportunity for you
to assist your hero
the Caleb Conrad.
And the unimaginable happens.
Did you write what
really happened up there?
For those of you not familiar,
three victims, one survivor.
The killer, Caleb's brother--
- Colton.
- Colton. Thank you.
Was, uh, a little off.
Dependant on Caleb.
He started off being sweet,
and then her just...
As a writer,
what was the most difficult part
of writing this horrific ordeal?
The rewrites.