All language subtitles for The.Mess.You.Leave.Behind.S01E02

A NETFLIX ORIGINAL SERIES

Oh, fuck. This one's drunk.

You sons of bitches.

Sons of bitches!

He's trashed.

- Shit, that's Mauro.
- Shit.

You're nothing but motherfuckers!

Mauro, go to sleep! Come on!

Why aren't you doing anything, huh?

- Forget it, Mauro. Go home.
- Go home.

And what can I do at home, huh?

Who's waiting for me at home?

Is my wife, Viruca?

No! You have her body,
and you're doing nothing.

Mauro, we've been
really patient with you. Go home.

- Right now.
- Right now?

- Yeah.
- Right now?

Right now, asshole? Right now?

- Hey! Calm down!
- Leave me alone!

- Stop!
- I got him!

- Just open the back.
- What's wrong?

Am I a danger to the public?

CIVIL GUARD

- Come. Calm down.
- You disgust me.

Mauro! Just get inside.

God damn it.

Damn, that poor fuckin' dude.

- Good morning.
- Good morning.

I've been reading your exams, and…

they are interesting.

Some more than others,

but… they're pretty good.

- Teacher?
- Yes?

- Does this count towards our grade?
- No.

- I used them to know where you're at.
- Cool.

And did you reach any conclusion,
or…?

- Well, of some sort.
- Well, shit.

Somehow, I doubt that reading
some text about The House of Ulloa

will give you any idea
about what our level is.

Do you know
what Viruca did on the first day of class?

No. You can tell me.

You know
that if you need to talk about her,

you can count on me.

She asked us
to describe a hurtful experience.

She said that literature is pain.

And that's why it comes
from the writer's darkest place,

from inside their soul.

From the Tom Spanbauer school,
as far as I can tell.

Do you know who Spanbauer is...

And to prove her point,
she did something incredible.

She gave an example.

She told us something personal,
something that happened to her.

Are you brave enough to do the same?

- Yeah. Are you?
- Are you?

I think
different teachers have different methods.

- Sure.
- Yeah, you're afraid. You're afraid.

- You think I'm afraid?
- Yes.

Why?

Well, if you did it,
then we'd know something about you.

- Ah.
- And then we might have an advantage.

- And you'd end up like her.
- Roi!

Yeah.

Listen, don't worry,

because if we wanted
to know something about you,

all we'd have to do is check online.

Mm-hmm.

We'd know
you have 107 friends on Facebook,

that your political opinions
are like almost every teacher

who pretends to be cool, you know.

Random ironic comment

about some right-wing politician,
and then nothing.

Well done,
but it's time to start our class.

And on a personal level,
things are a bit more fucked-up, right?

Roi, that's enough.

You feel trapped in a loveless marriage,

but you cling to him.

Because you're afraid
that if you lose him, you'll go insane.

And you're bored of him.
What's worse, you're bored of yourself.

You're broken inside.

Enough, Roi.

Enough.

The Dalai Lama once said…

"When you meet someone,
look them in the eye and be kind to them…

because inside that person,
a battle is raging."

Guys, inside us,
there is always a battle raging.

A battle that,
many times, is very painful.

And writing has to grapple with that,
with being able to describe what hurts us,

even when we're ashamed of it.

And that's why,
when we truly write, we run a risk.

The risk of not getting out unscathed.

We have to be really brave to write.

Because we are looking into the abyss.
The abyss that exists inside us.

Literature appeals to, um…

to our fears…

to our miseries…

to our pain.

Let's do an experiment, okay?

So, grab some paper and a pen.

Come on. Come on, come on.

I want you to write something
without fear.

Okay? Something personal of yours.
You need to feel safe to do so,

so I swear
that every single thing you write here

will be confidential.

Why should we trust you with anything?

You have a point.

Let's do this, then.

I will tell you something personal
about me,

and then I'll have to trust you
with that knowledge.

Then all of you will be able to trust me.

Mauro.

Mauro, come on.

Ah.

They dropped the charges.

Next time,
you'll deal with the judge.

Good morning. Coffee?

They're not doing anything, Abel.

They've had her body for two weeks,
and for what? For what?

Tomorrow
they're gonna be releasing her body.

I got a call from the courthouse,
and I called you, but you didn't pick up.

- What?
- They've established what we already knew.

- She committed suicide.
- "We already knew"? What are you saying?

I know you pressured the DA
and the judge, but it is what it is.

Whose side are you on anyway?

Yours, damn it. Yours.

Do you know where the police look first
when they start a murder investigation?

In the people
closest to the victim, her family.

The ex-husband
who couldn't accept their divorce.

What are you saying?
You think they suspect me?

If they determine it was a murder,
of course they'll start with you.

Is that what you want?

The last few months,
you two were on the rocks, Mauro.

Everyone in town knew it.
The shouting, the threats…

Viruca even called the Civil Guard on you.

We were getting divorced, damn it.
Of course we argued.

You know what she was like.
She drove me crazy.

Well, there you have it.

Be grateful
that she didn't die by your hands.

And you can mourn her in peace now.

Bury her, Mauro. Bury her.

And quit stirring the pot.

Come on.

Something so creepy
just happened to me in class.

A kid just talked to me
like he was reading my mind.

He described me in a way
that would be impossible

for him to have figured out
just by looking at my Facebook page.

Call me back as soon as you hear this.

Ah, fuck!

Um…

Look, okay. I just remembered something.

Everything that kid said in class,

I wrote in an e-mail.

But I know I deleted it

so… so Germán wouldn't find it.
Could he have accessed it?

And if he had access to that,
do you think he has access to everything?

I'm going crazy.
Please, call me back soon.

Love you.

Shit.

Hey! What's wrong with you?

I'm really sorry.
The ball got away from me. I swear.

Can I talk to you?

What's the deal, man?

Did we scare you?

It was an accident, okay?
Don't you believe us?

Come on.

- Yeah.
- Let's go before she starts crying.

Bye.

When.

Mijaíl, how much is it?

They're getting to you already, right?

Uh, no. No, it's…

…it's to warm up.

Be careful with them.

- What was your name again?
- Mauro.

Mauro, excuse me. Um…

Tell me, your…

your wife,
did her students love her or hate her?

I'm asking
because all they do is compare me to her,

and I can tell you, I am losing that game.

Yeah.

We all come out losing in that comparison.

So then, she… she wasn't bullied?

Did they bully her
to the point she committed suicide? No.

My wife didn't take her own life.
Viruca was tough as nails.

My wife was murdered.

And one of the students
you're teaching did it.

But… but who? Roi?

That man is in rough shape, isn't he?

It's hard, my child.

I can say
Viruca never seemed suicidal to me.

What do I know?

Concha, you're not helping.

Did you know her well?

Viruca? Her family's from town.

She grew up here.

And what was she like?

Smart, pretty,
the apple of her parents' eye.

You can imagine how proud they were

when she got
the highest grade in her class

and then could choose this posting.

She coulda chosen any other job.

Don't know
why she chose to be buried alive here.

And was she a good teacher?

That, my child, you'll have to ask
someone who took her class.

All I can tell you

is that when she first came here,
she had the same look in her eyes as you.

And the same enthusiasm.

I'm sure you'll agree

that being a teenager
in high school is difficult.

Hmm?

You try to leave the child
you were behind,

and you try to imagine exactly
what kind of adult you want to become.

And when you end up meeting
the adult you'll become for real,

it's completely different
from what you had imagined.

And that… dissonance
between what you want to become

and what you really are
can sometimes be painful.

I remember I wanted to be…

…independent,

cool, the life of the party.

Yeah, yeah.

And… and sometimes I saw the reality

that I was a woman who was unable
to control her own impulses, and…

…I was unable to quiet this…

anxiety that…

that was drowning me.

I soon realized that my problem was
I had a very addictive nature.

I mean,
if I started drinking, I couldn't stop.

If I fell for someone,
I couldn't control my obsession for them.

And…

and I did fall for someone.

Madly.

I made all the mistakes
you can possibly make

and went through
all the phases you can think about.

And even getting myself pregnant.

I actually got pregnant at 16 years old

because I was dumb,

and so was he.

And so,
I was so ashamed to face my mom and dad

that I decided
to write a letter for both of them,

where I told them I was raped…

because I thought
they wouldn't let me have an abortion.

I wrote the letter
in the middle of the night

and left it on the kitchen table
for my parents to read in the morning,

and I went back to my room.

But when I got to bed,
I started feeling awful.

It was so bad that I threw up many times
because of my guilt.

I thought,
"How could I do something like this?"

You know, "How could I be such a coward?"

Full of regret, I got up in the morning
and went to the kitchen

to throw away the letter,
but when I got down…

my mother was there,

and she was already reading it.

She was freaked out,
asking, "Is this true, Viruca?"

"What's happened to you?"
My poor mom.

I'd never seen her like that before.

Told her no. That… that I was lying.

That the only truth
was what I said I wanted in the end…

the abortion.

She took the letter,
ripped it up, and threw it away.

"Come on.
Let's go to the hospital," she said to me.

"Your father can never find out."

You had an abortion?

Yeah, yeah. I had one.

But having an abortion isn't the shameful
or intimate part for me.

The shameful thing is…

the lie I told, right?

Seeing myself turn into a coward.

And your father never found out?

No. Me and my mom decided
we wouldn't tell him.

The only people that know
about this are my husband, my mother,

and now you.

So know that… you can trust me.

I will never let you down.

Look.

We had a flood a few months ago.

I doubt you'll find
any of Viruca's work in here.

Let me see.

Senior year…

Could be over here,

but it isn't.

Let's see.

Oh, here. Look.

How was your first day, Raquel?
Between us.

Um, good. Good.

But I…

I don't get why nobody told me
Viruca had committed suicide.

- Didn't you know?
- No.

Your husband never mentioned it?

What do you mean? Germán?

Doesn't he own the restaurant O Muíño?

Yes, but what does that
have to do with anything?

Well, everyone was talking about it
the last three weeks,

so I just assumed he'd heard.

Well, my husband
was living with me in La Coruña.

- Why would he have heard about that?
- Yes, you're right.

Sorry I didn't give you a heads-up.

Wrong assumption on my part.

So, did everything go well?
What did you think of the kids?

Um, fine. Um…

They act strong,
but they're still processing it.

Just be a little patient with them.

Um… do you mind if I hang here a bit?
See if I can find anything else?

No, no. Of course.

Shit.

I'm sorry. I am so sorry.

- Froilán. Raquel.
- Well, this is the house.

You won't feel any drafts in here.

Two floors, a chimney.

And the kitchen
is right here, through this door.

Kitchen here. It's wonderful.

- The views are magnificent.
- Ah! Look at this view, Raquel.

The garden.
In the summer, we could have a pool.

What do you mean, in the summer?
Are we staying here that long?

Mr. Froilán, do you mind
if we, uh, look around the house?

- Of course.
- Get a feel for it.

Take your time.

For fuck's sake.

- What?
- What's up? I'm askin' you.

You're not acting this way
because of the house?

No, that's not…

It's that I don't know
if I see myself living here.

- Hmm. With me.
- What are you saying?

What am I saying?

Four years ago, you loved me
and would've moved into any dump with me,

but now you can't fucking see yourself
in this great house?

Did you know I was replacing
a teacher who killed herself?

And you didn't tell me anything?

I don't know. So… so I'd be prepared

and not look like an asshole
in front of my new coworkers?

- Did you think about that?
- Okay, Raquel! Raquel.

I knew about that teacher.

But I didn't know for sure
she was the one you were replacing.

I didn't wanna scare you, you see?

You didn't keep it from me
because you were scared I wouldn't move?

Did we have a lot of options?

Hm.

What are you doing down there?

I need all the blood
I can get to go to my head

if I'm gonna read all of these.

Hey there.

- They're that bad?
- Mm-hmm.

No.

- Hey, hey! That's not fair!
- "If I had to…"

Come on, give it!

I promised my class they were private,
and I'm keeping my word.

You asked me to tell you
when I feel the most ashamed.

- In the showers.
- Hmm.

Not because they see me naked.
I have no problem with my body.

But, Viruca, I feel ashamed
because I know they can see my underwear.

Because it's falling apart. Fuck me.

I hate the fucking squalor I live in.

Shit, the fact
that we never have anything.

That thinking about buying pants
is a matter of state

because there's no fucking money.

They say
the damp of Galicia never goes.

That it gets into everything,
but that's bullshit. It's bullshit.

What really gets
into everything is misery. Fucking misery.

I wish I could just run away from it.

And from this town, my God,

that's getting more depressing
and sadder, but…

but I don't know how.

An A-plus?

It's really good work.

Really, it's very good.

But I think it'd be better…

if you didn't talk about misery
in general,

but about that frayed underwear of yours.

That's specific to you.

- Write about you.
- Uh, yeah.

- About what hurts you.
- Okay, okay.

- It's really good, Roi. Congratulations.
- Thanks.

Mauro!

Mauro, excuse me.

- Um…
- I have class in five minutes.

Yes, um… Listen, uh…
This might sound odd,

but I'd like to get access

to the kids' exams
and work from Viruca's class.

And I know Viruca kept
a copy of everything on her computer,

so I don't know if you could loan it to me
or download it on a hard drive.

I'd appreciate it.

- Why do you want that?
- Well, I don't know. To…

I'd like to see what level they're at
to acquaint myself with them.

That's the only reason?

Yes. What else would it be for?

Well…

…if it's just for that, I'm sorry, then.
No, I won't do that.

Well, I don't see why we can't tell
the students about the burial.

- Hello.
- Hello.

I'd say they have a right to say goodbye.

But that's what Mauro wants.

We should respect
the wishes of her husband.

Ex-husband.
Do you have an opinion?

About what?

Do you think kids from her class

should have the right
to go to Viruca's burial?

I don't know.

- I guess so, right?
- Hmm?

It's a way for them to get closure.

Because I guess they loved her.

I mean, I didn't get to know Viruca, but…

…but I didn't know her.

The one before
or the one after the divorce?

Iria, it's not the time.

What? She never had much of a problem

talking about all the things they did
inside and outside of their marriage.

- Iria!
- Come on. It's just a sign of the times.

Nowadays, no one stays faithful,

right?

I don't know. Speak for yourself.

It works great for me.

Viruca would have liked you.

- Why is that?
- Um…

Don't get obsessed with her,
Raquel. For your own sanity.

Did any of her students
hate her or bully her?

Why? Are they bullying you?

- No.
- Raquel, please.

No martyrs, no heroes.

I told you that the first day.
Tell me what happened.

Well, fine.

They stuck this in with their essays.

HOW LONG BEFORE YOU DIE TOO?

- Oh, my God.
- No.

Marga.

Those brats are going to hear from me.
This nonsense ends right here, right now.

No, no, no, no. Marga. Marga.

Let me solve this.

If you get involved,
they'll just never take me seriously.

I've got to make them respect me.

Then do it!
Don't let them run all over you, Raquel.

I don't want another teacher
bullied into depression.

- No.
- Take charge. Remember, take charge.

Okay.

I'm in charge, okay?

Oh! Oh, my God!

Oh, jeez.

Today we'll examine crime dramas.

Yeah.

What would a writer like Agatha Christie…

do in order to expose
a murderer in a classroom?

Or, rather,

how she would expose the person
who left an anonymous note threatening…

your literature teacher.

Agatha Christie
was a brilliant mystery writer.

Her methods have been imitated
by many writers for generations.

They were based
on observation and deduction.

Since I don't know you,

even if I observed you
for hours and hours…

I doubt I'd manage to find the truth.

That's why the method I am going to use
is much more modern and realistic.

Extortion.

If I don't leave here knowing
who is the one who wrote this note to me,

you will all fail your finals,
and no one will take their SATs.

- What?
- Wait. Hold on.

- You heard me right. Yeah?
- No. Okay, okay. Wait a minute.

Are you trying to make us believe
you'd fail us all over this bullshit?

Does this look like bullshit to you?

A death threat is bullshit?

It doesn't matter,
because you can't do that. It's illegal.

Our parents won't allow it,
and the school won't either.

That may be true…

but what I can do is…

give you the kind of final

that's a bit hard to pass.

Right? Just a bit.
It's not like your level's terribly high.

So, raising the difficulty
even just a little,

no one would pass, right?

Nobody. And that is legal here

and in any high school in the world.

You're bluffing.

If you failed us all,
you'd probably get fired, okay?

- Fire a civil servant?
- Yeah.

I'd have to come here drunk every day,

humiliate you all,

and wear my underwear as a hat.

And even then…

I probably wouldn't get fired.

You have no idea how helpless you are.

What the fuck?

I want you to write on here…

the name of the person

you think
could have left me an anonymous note

saying I'd be the next one to die.

Just one name.

One name, or you can say goodbye
to your future. Okay?

Roi, were you the one
who threatened the teacher?

No. I was gonna ask you the same thing.
It wasn't you?

- Why would I do that?
- Hmm. Maybe you get off on it.

Like you did with Viruca.

You don't know what you're talking about.

Look, man. I don't know
because you won't tell me, you know?

You hold it all in.

Dude, ever since she died,
you've just been completely closed up.

- And this withdrawn bullshit is tedious.
- For real. You've been weird.

- You've changed since she died.
- What about you?

Me?

- Well, you were up Viruca's asshole.
- Yeah.

Reading every book she assigned.

You were even talking
and thinking like her.

Then all of a sudden, you quit.
And you even stopped…

reading.

He's right. You were really hard on her
towards the end, Nerea.

- So, why?
- Yeah, Nerea. Why?

You really want me to tell your bestie?

- Because I'll start talking.
- Shut your fucking mouth.

Well, then shut yours.

- What?
- Nothing.

- What? Tell me.
- Nothing.

- Wait. What happened?
- Nothing.

FUCK YOU!

GO FUCK YOURSELF

One thing
that makes my life less miserable…

photography.

I love pictures.
I'd… I'd love to take pictures

with only cool things in them, man.
Pretty things, you know?

Fuck the ugly, the gray, all of that.

No. No, no, no, no.

Only color and life and happiness,

for fuck's sake.

I know
I'm talking in general terms,

and you want me to be specific.

I can already see your red pen.

"Yes, Roi, be specific."

But it's not easy
to open your heart, right?

And to dig through the shit,
as you want us to do…

…but I'm trying.

You know…

I'd love to take pictures of Iago.

When I see him working out, for instance…

…or when I see him
sprawled on the bed, cracking up.

Good job, man!

When he's telling me
a story and ruffles my hair,

I forget my life, you know.

When… I see him in the shower…

with the water running down his body,
I just imagine that…

I don't imagine anything.

Look…

all I can say
is that Iago takes away my misery.

Be bold and tell him
that you want to take pictures of him.

Why couldn't he be your model?
Artists have models.

And you clearly like him.

He inspires you.

All I ever saw in Iago
was an angry, smug teenage boy.

And now I'm starting to see him
in a new light, thanks to you.

That is what a true writer does.

And if he inspires you in your writing,

why wouldn't he inspire
your photography too?

- "Attention."
- You're such a fool.

"It's a plot."

"We are not going to do anything."

Could I get everyone's attention
for a moment?

You're scaring me.

Careful.

Someone just made me a good offer
to buy O Muíño.

- What?
- And it's not a bad one.

It might've been better a few years ago,

but it's not bad,
considering the state of things.

And with things as they are,

if it weren't for the fact
that this is your job, I'd have said yes.

Wait a second.

Mom, why the fuck
do we have to sell the place?

Because we have two mortgages

from that expansion
that never happened, and we're in debt.

Because business is bad
and because I'm sick of working.

And since half of it is mine,

you two will have to figure out
how to buy me out.

I'm asking for 400,000, nonnegotiable.

Are you insane?

How are we gonna pay that?

I'm asking for a price
that's well below market.

Listen, Mom,

this is where…

Your memories are here. All of Dad's.

That's another reason
for me to leave here.

Not drown in my fucking grief.

And how are we supposed to get
400,000 euros? Tell me.

With another loan, I guess.

Or split the cost with your brother.
You could be partners.

You have two weeks to make your decision.

Um… do you want more wine?

Yeah.

The truth of the matter is,
we could convert O Muíño

into a bed and breakfast.

I've been reading that the Xunta

has some pretty interesting
government grants right now.

You're not really saying
you wanna buy the restaurant, are you?

Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying.
It's a possibility.

I mean, I've gone two years

without landing
any newspaper or magazine jobs.

And you know how my novel's going.
I don't know.

If I'm gonna end up working at whatever,

then I'd rather do it here,
being a partner. Hmm?

You've really thought this through,
haven't you?

No, Raquel.

Listen, do you know how frustrating it is

being unemployed for more than two years?

How useless I feel?

I try to tell myself
that it's gonna be fine.

That I'm young, I'm healthy.

That I have you.

That you're the best thing
that's happened in my life,

but no matter how positive I try to be,
it doesn't work.

There are days that…
that all I wanna do is cry.

Cry and start drinking again.

I didn't know.
I didn't know you felt that way.

Why would I tell you?
Someone had to be strong, right?

- Ah, fine. Yeah.
- Yeah, or at least pretend to be.

- Yep.
- Hear me out, Raquel.

I don't care how others handle this.

No matter how much I tell myself
that this is not my fault,

I feel like it is.

That if I truly wanted to find a job,
I could. 'Cause, like...

Yeah, but listen...

No, but this B&B is a great idea.
It's a fantastic opportunity.

It's no big deal if I'm not a writer.

It's better to forget it and move on
and start building something for us.

Yes, but listen to me, honey.
You are a writer. That's what you are.

- That's what you do.
- Oh, now you want me to write?

Give me a break.

- What are you saying?
- Come on, Raquel.

You've been lookin' over my shoulder
more than a year.

- Me?
- Tolerating it but resenting me.

- No, that's not true.
- For fuck's sake. Right.

I've always supported you.

Otherwise, why would I be working
without complaint and doing nothing?

Are you listening to yourself?
Do you actually believe this? Admit it.

Staying in this shitty town
with me depresses you.

That's why you want me to write.

Anything,
as long as I don't end up working here.

Fuck you. That's so unfair to me.

Completely unfair.
I have always supported you.

Always!

I don't know what the fuck
is going on with you. I don't get it.

I'm taking the dog out.

Nanook?

Nanook!

Nanook!

Where were you?

Where were you? Come here. Come here.

Where were you? Let's go.

Come on. Come on.

Come on, bro! Look!

How do you plan on keeping up the bluff?
You're gonna fail them all?

You told me to be strong,
to command respect.

- Why did you listen to me?
- I think I'm getting somewhere with them.

You put yourself in a bad position.

- Can you get out of it?
- Sure.

I don't buy it.

Shit.

Hey, was it that bad?

You really threatened to fail all of them?

Yeah, and make them take
their entrance exams in September.

- Oh, fuck yeah. Yes.
- That's ballsy.

Great.

Aw.

Fuck my life.

Uh, listen.

- The burial is this evening.
- The burial?

Yeah. Uh, Viruca's.

Oh.

I mean, we already held the funeral Mass,
but they finally returned the body.

Can you come?

Sure.

Yeah, I actually grew up
right here in this town.

There we go.

Your hands are cold.

Mm.

Did you study in La Coruña?

- I gotta go.
- Oh.

Can you excuse me, please?

Wow.

You're so elegant.

- Where you going?
- To Viruca's burial.

- The teacher who...
- Yeah, yeah.

Oh, right.
You already knew her name.

Okay. You're still mad about that, right?

- Yeah.
- I'm really sorry.

Really.
I know I shoulda told you about it.

I feel ridiculous in this dress.
I have no idea why I'm going.

You don't have to go if you don't want to.

You think I shouldn't?

I don't know.

If it'll be upsetting for you…

Well, if it upsets me, then it upsets me.

Not everyone is like you.

What? What does that mean?

You only needed a month
to get over your father's death, right?

Seriously?

Are you saying you're a better person
'cause I'm moving on?

I don't wanna move on?
Is that what you're saying?

No, it's not. I don't know
why you interpret it like that!

Because we're awful
at interpreting things lately. That's all.

- That's all.
- Then forget it. It doesn't matter.

No. No, it does, Raquel.

- Please, I don't wanna fight like this.
- God damn it.

Really.
I don't want us to hurt each other.

You know that you're my everything, right?

That you're the one person
I wanna share my life with?

My compass.

Your compass?

- Yes, when I'm lost.
- Really?

You know that, right?

Yeah.

- You look so pretty.
- Stop, or I'm gonna be late.

"I am the resurrection
and the life," says the Lord.

"He who believes in me will live,
even though he dies.

And everyone who lives
and believes in me will never die."

- Lord, have mercy.
- Lord, have mercy.

- Christ, have mercy.
- Christ, have mercy.

- Lord, have mercy.
- Lord, have mercy.

Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name.

Your kingdom come, your will be done,
on Earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily…

Are you fucking kidding?

What are they doing here?

Iago, come on. Let's go.

- Tell him.
- Hey, Nerea's right.

- We shouldn't be here.
- Iago.

- Shut the fuck up. Don't stop me.
- Iago.

- I'm gonna kill him.
- Mauro, stay calm.

Hear our prayer,
Lord, and let our cry…

How dare you show your fucking face.

And you're drunk.

- Don't you have any shame at all?
- What?

Am I not allowed to have a last beer
with my teacher?

Iago…

In her honor?

And besides,
I'm drinking her favorite brand of beer.

- Do you wanna know what it is?
- Iago…

Cock-flavored.

Mauro. Mauro, calm down.

Whoo!

What? Now you do something, right?

Now you do something? It's a little late.

- You hear me? Too late to grow a pair.
- Get out!

Get out of here, or I'll kill you myself.

Son of a bitch! You're nothing.

- Enough!
- Viruca never thought that.

Roi, Nerea, get him out of here.

You can go fuck yourself!

- Go fuck yourself.
- Iago!

You go fuck yourself too!

- Come on. Stop.
- You too! Did you hear me?

- You can all go fuck yourselves!
- Go!

Fuck this!

What's this?

I think I got you wrong,
and maybe you're stronger than you look.

Promise me one thing.

If you find something in here, anything,

anything that could be a clue
about what happened to Viruca, tell me.

Mauro, if you're so sure she was murdered,
why don't you give this to the police?

They already have a copy.
You think they've done anything?

Honestly, I'd prefer not to get involved,

especially after that scene
at the cemetery.

- I'm sorry.
- That was a bad moment.

- Won't happen...
- Bad moment?

Please, just look at it.

And if you won't do it
for me or Viruca, do it for yourself.

If you figure out who's behind all this,
maybe you won't end up like her.

But…

Roi!

You just wanna photograph me?
How about Diego? Or José?

Huh? Or am I the one you want?

Shut up, okay? Stop it. Just stop it.

Fuck, man.

Well, now.
Roi thinks he's a photographer, you know?

And he wants me to be his muse. Yes or no?

What are you doing?
Stop this! Fuck you, man! Stop!

You're so… You're so fucking dumb.

What the hell?

Okay, I'm sorry.

He made fun of me, you know?

He humiliated me in front of everybody.
He took away my towel. He laughed at me.

I don't know why I listened to you.
Fuck this, Viruca.

Look, it was fine. I was his friend.
I'd gained his trust.

And everything is ruined

because of you. It's all fucked up.

Here. I'm not writing
any more of this shit.

Got it?

I'm looking
for the teacher for the senior class.

I'm Iago Nogueira's father. Is that you?

I'm one. How can I help you?

Lady, do you know
what happened at the funeral?

I was there.
I'd rather you speak to an administrator.

I couldn't give a shit
about what you'd rather.

My kid was beaten up by a teacher.

And today,
my kid tells me he's still teaching here.

He hasn't been fired yet. Is that true?

'Cause if that's true,
I think we're gonna have a problem.

That teacher is the widower

of the woman whose burial he disrupted.

And your son acted out,

something he does a lot, it seems.

He even attacks
and humiliates his own friends.

My kid gets beaten up,
and you're saying he's the problem here?

Look, lady, I want him fired.

But first,
he apologizes to my son, all right?

If he doesn't, he should get ready.
Him and the whole school.

Because this will end up
in all the newspapers!

If you have those three,
give them to me, okay? Tomorrow?

- Yes. Thank you.
- Thank you. See ya later.

Can you give us a moment, please?

Did you know
I was changing my mind about you?

Yeah, I wasn't seeing
a dumb teenager anymore,

but that's what you are, right?

Because what's up there
just doesn't work properly.

- What are you saying?
- That you shouldn't be an asshole.

You shouldn't toss aside
people who love you

and make you a better person so...

Yeah, yeah, so you can keep
your reputation as the big man on campus.

- Can I say something?
- Tell me.

Who the fuck do you think you are,
talkin' to me like that?

You think you make a couple confessions,
and then I owe you?

Quiet down. Let's get started.

Thank you.

Can you tell me what's going on?

Since you're gonna fail us all,

why should we bother
putting in any effort, right?

Because you're gonna make sure
we all fail and get held back,

unless someone snitched?

Well, yes. I have two names.

Yes.

So, that's it. Mystery solved. Hmm?

Can we go back to acting
like a normal class now?

Thank you.

Let's continue with The House of Ulloa.

Chapter two.

Read the first two pages.

WHO WOULD'VE GUESSED YOU WERE SO NASTY?
DOES YOUR HUSBAND KNOW?