Original subtitles

(wind rushing)

(hard rock music)

(phone rings)

- Hello?

- [Voiceover] Hey, girlfriend.

How about keeping in touch once in a while?

- Sorry, Sarah.

I've been working seven days.

- [Voiceover] Doing the guard thing?

- Yeah.

At least it's day shift.

- [Voiceover] For goodness' sakes, Rache.

You still have that thing about nighttime?

- I'm working on it.

- [Voiceover] Damn, Rache, that's so juvenile.

- I'm working on it.

It's starting to get dark.

I'm just happy I'm going home.

- [Voiceover] So L.A. is home now?

I thought you'd be sick of that place by now.

Aren't people crazy out there?

- Well, they're definitely different, I'll give them that.

- [Voiceover] How's your love life?

Any improvements, future husbands, obsessed stalkers?

- Please.

- [Voiceover] After all the shit you've been through,

you deserve it.

Go out, date. Have some fun.

Get laid, for Christ's sakes.

- I don't have time, Sarah.

- [Voiceover] Whenever you get tired of lala land,

we'll be back here waiting, girlfriend.

Come home. (phone beeps)

- Hey, I got to go.

- [Voiceover] Call me later.

- Hi, Greg.

- [Voiceover] Hey Rache, I need a big favor.

I know it's Memorial Day weekend,

and I know you just finished doing a shift,

but I need someone to cover a new post tonight

'til I can get a replacement over there.

- (stammers) No, I can't.

- [Voiceover] What, you have a hot date?

This is a new post.

I can't afford to lose this one,

and I really need your help.

Rache, are you there?

Rache?

- Oh, yeah.

Where is it?

- [Voiceover] Thanks Rache, you're a lifesaver.

It's a drug clinic in Artesia.

Rounds every few hours, no clocks to hit.

Easy.

(Rachel sighs)

- All right, I'll do it.

Just you got to get me a replacement by midnight.

- [Voiceover] I'll try my best.

- No, promise me, Greg.

- [Voiceover] It might make me a liar.

- Jesus.

- [Voiceover] Rache, you're an angel.

- Yeah, that's me.

The selfless savior.

- [Voiceover] The address is 2600 South Artesia.

Girl at the front desk is Anna.

She'll show you around.

- Got it.

- [Voiceover] I'll call you later.

- Yeah, you better.

(Rachel sighs)

Shit.

(soft piano music with female vocals)

(moves into dramatic orchestral music with choir)

(brakes squeak)

(knocking)

- Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.

- [Rachel] That's okay.

- You must be Rachel. Anna.

- Let me get my stuff.

(car door beeping)

- [Anna] You're the third guard this month.

Stick around, the place will grow on you.

- [Rachel] I'll bet.

- [Anna] I'll show you the clinic, then got to run.

My husband and I are going up to Arrowhead.

We should have left hours ago.

(door squeaks)

Welcome to hell.

At least, that's how it seems

once you've work here long enough.

This is the waiting room,

which you don't really have to worry about

since we're closed for the weekend.

The receptionist sits here when we're open,

but usually the guards use the nurse's station.

Come on, I'll show you.

Come on.

(breathing)

- Those to keep us in or trouble out?

- Those?

This is an addiction clinic.

We keep methadone here.

We had four break-ins last month.

Addicts will do anything for a fix.

They're like animals, you know?

- Is it safe?

- Yeah.

(window sliding and locking)

Now that you're here.

I don't mean to joke.

It's plenty safe.

Just make sure all the windows and doors are locked

and they stay that way.

- Well, it doesn't look like anyone could get in there.

- You'd be surprised.

This is a bad neighborhood.

There are stabbings, shootings, gangs.

But he seems to like it that way.

- "He"?

- Dr. Mayfield.

He says we're helping the downtrodden on their own turf.

Way too Mother Teresa for me.

All right, I'm going to give you the quickie tour,

and then I'm out of here.

So, one round an hour. That's the rule.

But really, it's up to you.

These doors remain closed.

Some of them are locked.

The doctor doesn't give us the keys, which is fine by me.

Restroom is there.

That's Dr. Mayfield's office.

That remains locked.

These are the patient examination rooms.

X-ray's in there.

There are a lot of noises at night.

Don't be afraid, it's just an old building.

- I'll keep that in mind.

(car horn honks)

- I got to go.

There are emergency numbers by the phone

if you need anything,

and if you get hungry, you can call for a pizza.

There's the number on the bulletin board.

Well, it was really nice to meet you, Rachel.

I'll be back Tuesday morning first thing,

but if I don't see you then, maybe next week?

- Sure.

- Remember, keep everything locked.

(light switch clicks)

- [Voiceover] He's coming.

(passing police sirens)

- [Voiceover] Knife wounds to the back and throat.

Impaled vital organs.

Victim bled to death?

Eyes were gouged or carved out.

Stabbed through the eyes.

(passing police sirens)

Heart was removed from victim.

Some kind of light anesthetic.

Victim was barely asleep.

Conscious through removal.

Three murders, two years, one case.

All of the victims worked in the same place,

but aside from that, nothing puts them together.

(passing police siren)

I feel like I'm coming apart.

Drifting.

Like I'm living in someone else's dream.

(passing police siren)

Any one of their patients could have done it.

Any man could have.

Something about the timelines on this case aren't adding up.

(passing police siren)

There was a small list of patients

released a month before the first murder.

Five names.

How hard could it be?

(passing police siren)

(radio static)

- [Voiceover] It's the quiet storm on KMND.

Broadcasting to you high from Gracepoint lighthouse.

Overlooking the lonely shores of Santa Ana Island.

(phone vibrates)

It's the Nightwave Show, with your hostess Alexis Angel,

your angel of the night. - [Rachel] Hey, Greg.

- [Voiceover] I invite you to sit back,

- Hang on.

- [Voiceover] relax, let the waves and music take you away.

- Greg.

Greg.

- [Voiceover] Rache, I have called everybody.

I can't get a replacement yet.

- No way!

You got to get me relief by midnight, no excuses.

- [Voiceover] Look, I've tried.

It's Memorial Day weekend.

There's nobody available, Rache.

You got to stick it out there.

Rache? Are you there?

- Yeah, yeah. I'm here.

It's sucks for the reception in this place.

- [Voiceover] The place looks worse than it is.

Just hang in there.

Call me later.

Okay?

- Yeah. I'll be fine.

- [Voiceover] That a girl.

I knew I could count on you, Rache.

- Yeah, sure.

- [Voiceover] Hey, Rache? Thanks.

(cat yowls)

(light switch clicks repeatedly)

- Hello?

Is someone there?

(board creaks)

(door squeaks)

(rollers rattling)

(door squeaks)

(rollers rattling)

(door knob jiggling)

(radio static) (Rachel gasps)

(indistinct voice under static)

(radio cuts out)

(soft scratching)

- [Voiceover] Rachel.

(rollers rattling)

(loud thumping)

- Who is it?

Who's there?

(gasps)

Oh, shit.

- you oughtn't be out here, miss.

- [Rachel] Who the hell are you?

- Name's Simms.

Caretaker.

- You just came really close to a fractured skull.

- Well, you ought to be inside.

Ain't safe out here at night.

Even if you do have a stick.

You're going to hurt yourself.

Toughs around here, they'd take you out,

just like that.

(sniffs)

Dr. Mayfield know you're out here?

No.

Never met the man.

I'm the new security guard.

- I can see that!

- Someone killed a cat.

Left it at the side door.

You know anything about that?

- No.

Probably kids messing around,

or could've been barn owl.

Something.

Whatever it was was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

- Well, not on my watch.

- Doesn't matter on whose watch it is.

Shit happens.

I think you'd better go back inside now, miss.

(breathing heavily)

- You see anything unusual, you come to me.

- I live in the back.

You need anything, give me a holler.

(sighs)

(droning synth music)

- Hi, can I place an order --

Hello?

(sighs)

(keypad beeping)

Hi, I'd like to place an order for delivery, please.

That'll be a small cheese pizza with pineapple.

(radio static)

(machinery humming)

(rumbling)

And a coffee with that.

No, that's it.

It's 2600 South Artesia.

Medical clinic, front door.

Okay.

Cash.

Rachel Burke.

Great, thanks.

(radio static)

(keyboard clicking)

(phone ringing)

- Hello?

- [Voiceover] He is coming.

Rachel.

- Who is this?

- [Voiceover] He is coming.

(phone rings)

- Hello?

- [Voiceover] I'm not going to make it.

- Excuse me?

Hello?

- [Voiceover] I said I'm not going to make it.

- Okay.

- [Voiceover] I need a fix, bad.

- We're not open until Tuesday.

- [Voiceover] I know the hours.

(laughs) I'll be dead by then.

I just wanted you to know.

- If this is an emergency,

you can call 911 if you need help.

(woman on phone laughs)

- [Voiceover] No.

You don't understand.

There's nobody left.

I'm the only one left.

Nobody left to help.

- I can't -- I'm sorry.

I can't help you.

- [Voiceover] Don't hang up!

Don't hang --

- [Voiceover] May 4th.

Maybe the blood in the room or the vomit on my breath

made me think about them.

All these dead people I've come across,

all the people I had to kill.

No way around it.

Only one way through it.

But the blood, the tears.

The last fleeting moment of life in their eyes.

It's almost funny.

Hysterical, really.

I want to feel that again.

(knocking)

- Who's there?

- [Man] Pizza Shack.

Rachel Burke?

- Yes.

Thank you.

- Holy crap, how'd you get those scars?

- Keep the change.

- Pizza and coffee comes out to $17.10.

- Yeah?

- Three bucks tip for braving this part of town?

- Well, it's better than no tip at all.

- Gee, thanks.

- Don't mention it.

- Sure you're all right here alone?

Could come back later.

- I appreciate the concern, but I'll be fine.

Thanks.

- [Voiceover] July 4th.

The fireworks are beautiful, but loud and terrifying.

Suppose it's like life,

love,

sex,

death.

That white trash man down the hall,

I can almost feel and hear, taste, smell his wet tobacco.

I'm disgusted.

Amused at his uncouth mannerisms.

How I hate him, yet pity him.

I feel again.

Feel.

(phone rings)

- Hello?

(scratching on phone)

Hello?

- [Voiceover] She isn't safe.

- What?

- [Voiceover] She isn't safe.

(boat horn)

(glass breaking)

- Ugh. Bitch.

(glass tinkling)

(woman crying)

- [Voiceover] Help me.

(gasps)

(sighs)

- Get a hold of yourself, girlfriend.

- [Voiceover] We're sending that one out

to all our fishermen off the California coast.

You are listening to KMND

and the Alexis Angel Nightwave Show.

Remember to stay true to your inner compass.

This is Alexis Angel, your angel of the night,

guiding with you my searchlight of love

over the dark and stormy sea.

(radio static)

- [Voiceover] Rachel.

(indistinct voice through radio static)

(radio cuts out)

- Shit.

Dr. Mayfield?

(door creaks)

(squeak)

(bell dings) (Rachel gasps)

(door creaks) (Rachel gasps)

Shit.

- [Voiceover] He's coming.

(Rachel panting)

- [Rachel] Come on.

- [Voiceover] Rachel.

(Rachel whimpering)

- Oh, yes. Yes.

(indistinct whispering)

(thumping)

(loud thumping)

(gasps)

(panting)

(crying)

- [Man] This is the game that we play.

You are the patient, and I'm going to examine you.

- [Girl] Why are you taking my clothes off, daddy?

- [Man] This won't hurt.

It's okay.

You're a beautiful little angel.

Daddy won't hurt you.

(crying)

(phone rings)

- Hello?

Hello?

- [Voiceover] She isn't safe.

(growling on phone)

- Who is this?

- [Voiceover] She isn't safe.

- Hello?

Hello?

Shit.

(coin clinks)

(keypad clicking)

(phone ringing)

- You done?

Like?

- No, no thanks.

(police sirens in distance)

- You know, I need this.

I need this.

(tones)

- [Voiceover] We're sorry, your call

cannot be completed as dialed.

If you feel you have reached --

(police sirens in distance)

- Not tonight.

(door creaks)

(crying)

(keypad clicking)

(panting)

(handle jiggling)

(items in drawers rattling)

- Oh, please.

Come on.

(radio static)

(door creaks)

(Rachel panting)

(gasps and cries)

(keys tinkle)

(lock clicking)

- Let me out of here.

(panting)

(lock pops)

(engine trying to start)

(grunts)

(grunting)

(metal scraping)

(banging) Mr. Simms?

(panting)

Mr. Simms.

(static)

(gasps)

(shower running)

(gasps)

(engine trying to start)

Come on.

(gasps)

Come on, come on.

Please.

(crying)

Yes.

(clicking)

Okay.

(Rachel crying)

This isn't happening.

(gasps)

(thumping)

(clock ticking)

(lock clicking)

- It's okay, baby.

He won't hurt us.

I promise he won't hurt us.

I won't let him hurt us.

- Welcome back to reality.

Welcome back to reality.

Hello, Rachel.

My, you were out for such a long time.

Did you have sweet dreams?

Welcome to my clinic.

It is here we take the lives of those damned by our society,

those who have fouled their bodies,

their temples, with toxins.

We take their lives so that others might live.

Others more deserving.

Others who do not desecrate their temples.

(Rachel whimpering)

Corinthians 3:16.

"Do you not know that the spirit of God dwells within you?

"You are God's temple, and God's temple is holy.

"And if anyone should destroy God's temple,

"then God shall destroy him.

"Thus spaketh the Lord."

You should not have come here, Rachel.

You seek to interfere and threaten my work.

But your intervention may yet produce

a miracle of its own result.

The human heart.

It is a shining example of divine creation.

A marvel of biological wonder, yet prone to disease.

Hundreds of thousands die every year from a diseased heart.

A transplant could've saved them.

But you see, we have a problem.

A donor problem.

People have this thing.

They don't want to see their organs donated

to those who might want to live.

No.

No, they would rather see their organs

rot in their corpse, be flushed down a toilet,

or burn in the fires of a crematorium,

than rather give the gift of life.

Well, someone must right that wrong.

An equalizer, if you will.

Those that come here, the addicts,

the ones who have ruined their lives,

those who have desecrated their temples,

they have not lived in vain.

Because I, I am the one.

I am the one.

I am the equalizer.

I am the one to make things right.

I am God's messenger.

You should not have come back here, Rachel.

Your organs are pristine.

Your body is amazing.

Young, supple.

Though you will not survive this procedure,

know that your life has not gone to waste.

(Mayfield groans)

(chains rattling)

(Mayfield growling)

(door creaks and closes)

(panting)

(lock clicking)

- Listen to the voices, Rachel.

Listen to the voices, Rachel.

(gate squeaks)

(knocking)

(panting)

(gasps)

- No.

No. No, this can't be.

(footsteps)

(lock clicking)

(gasps)

No!

No.

(panting)

- What?

(snap)

- You can't escape me, Rachel.

- Try me.

Go back to hell, you bastard.

(electricity zaps)

(motor powering up)

(electricity zaps)

- What?

(radio static)

(indistinct voice through static)

- [Voiceover] Can you hear me?

(distant clicking)

Rachel?

Can you hear me?

(clicking)

Come back, Rachel.

It's Dr. Myers.

Rachel, can you hear me?

Come back.

It's Dr. Myers.

You're in California State Hospital.

You've been here for the better part of 10 years.

You're a patient undergoing psychiatric treatment.

Ah.

Welcome back, Rachel.

We have made quite a lot of progress.

- What kind of progress?

- Remarkable progress.

You're starting to remember the events of your trauma.

Well, granted, it's only been while under hypnosis,

but it's a start.

Your memory will come back slowly.

In little fragments. Dreams.

And in those dreams, your characters will represent,

symbolize, pieces of your broken past.

- I don't understand.

- Ah, you will, Rachel.

In time.

But that's quite enough for today.

In the meantime,

do you remember this?

- Yes.

That belonged to Dr. Mayfield.

- No, this is your diary when you were growing up.

When your father was doing things to you he shouldn't have.

You had some moments of clarity,

and when it's right, I think you should read it.

Just a little at a time.

It's all in here, Rachel.

The only way you could escape that trauma.

I believe it will help you remember

and come to terms with what's happened to you.

- I don't know if I'm ready.

- Only you can make that decision.

But you have the key.

You've had it all along.

Now you take it slowly.

This kind of progress takes time, Rachel.

The psyche fights hard to protect itself.

And finding your way home is not going to be easy.

Everything that happened,

it felt so real.

There are things not of this world

that most of us don't see.

Things that science and logic cannot explain.

And then there are the fears.

Fears pushed down so far into the conscious mind

they vanish in darkness.

Dead to conscious awareness.

Abandoned dead.

But Rachel, sometimes the dead come back.

That's enough for now.

We'll try again in a few days.

I'll check in on you later.

You get some rest.

- Dr. Myers,

thank you.

(door closes)

- Case 3617. Burke, Rachel.

Dissociative identity disorder with persecutory delirium

brought on by severe childhood trauma.

Psyche split continuance.

Only fragmented recollection of her killing her father.

Continued use of projection.

Protective complex is still prevalent.

Personality is still split,

but very positive breakthrough during the hypnotic state.

Recovery of Rachel Burke is pending.

Soon, she will stand at the crossroads

(thunder)

and need to choose between her imagined world

or the harsh reality of the real self.

- [Voiceover] July 4th.

The fireworks are beautiful, but loud --

Disgusted --

I suppose it's like life --

I've never been more attracted to --

Dread --

Bloodstained --

Awaken to misery --

(voices overlapping)

Losing my energy --

October 8th --

I can't escape this --

No way around it --

White trash man down the hall.

How I hate him.

(voices overlap)

I want to feel that --

Three murders. 9:00 a.m. --

And I'm sweating --

(voices overlap)

The last fleeting moment of life in their eyes --

I want it to end.

(thunder)

(wind gusting)

(waves crashing)

(eerie jazz music)