All language subtitles for The Second (2018) 720p.WEBRip.x264-.YTS.AM-en

Thank you for coming.

I don't have much
time. Press tours.

You're in demand.

Yeah, it's nonstop.

You sit there.

I just need a
level for sound.

One, two, three.
- Perfect.

I'm terrible
at interviews.

Occupational hazard
for both of us, right?

I have something to confess.

I'm a big fan. Would
you mind signing my copy?

Of course.

Erm...

what would you
like me to write?

You're the writer.

There you go.

"Can't write
without a reader.

"It's precisely like a kiss -
you can't do it alone."

Cute. So, who do you
regard with a mutual kiss?

I don't kiss and tell.

Ok.

Your first book,

an award-winning,
sexually charged memoir.

Your second,
something entirely different...

the story of a murdered boy.

The LA Times
Book Prize - quite a win!

Congratulations.
- Thank you.

So, how does it feel
to be a literary darling?

I'm trying not to
think about it, darling.

The Times called it "an
erotic and audacious memoir".

What do you call it?

Uh, well... my life.

..what's next, a film
adaptation? Another book?

Well, I've been kidnapped
by my publisher for the week.

He's a total sadist
in tortoiseshell glasses.

And he's not go...

He's not gonna let me go
until I give him the next book.

A week of no
distractions, then?

Uh... maybe one or two.

Come on, hop out.
Stretch your legs.

No, I'm waiting.

Last one.

I'm so proud of you.

You'd be amazed how many
clients I have that cannot do PR.

You calling me a whore?

Yeah, a little.

Thank God there's one of you.

You know, the woman who
wrote that book grew up around here.

Her father wrote
The Bellbird's Warning.

Yeah, yeah. I know.

You're her!

"The silver-voiced bellbirds

"The darlings of daytime

"They sing in September
the songs of the May-time

"When shadows wax
strong and thunderbolts hurtle

"They lie..."
- Hide.

They hide.

"They hide with the fear..."

Their fear.
- With their fear.

"In the leaves of
the myrtle." - Oh, stop it.

I love your
father's book. - Yes.

It's my all-time
favourite. - I don't care.

Ok, it's my second...
- Yes.

..favourite.
- I don't care.

Well, I do care.

Being out here,
seeing this landscape...

gets me hard.

Gets me hard.

Whoa.

Do you think I should get out?
- No, don't.

Another one of your fans?
- Just no.

Oi, move!

Don't be an idiot.
- Me?

Well, because
country people out here...

You know, it's different.
They're polite.

That's real fuckin' polite.

Hey, move!

Move!

He wants a rise out
of you. Please don't.

Just don't give it to him.

What's he doing?!

Are you deaf and dumb?

Just go.
- Hey!

I've got your number.
You're a hazard!

Just go.
- Idiot!

I've sent the caretaker away
so we won't be disturbed.

I know he sold
a lot of books, but...

Family money.
My mother's side.

What was she like?
- She died when I was five.

That's his study. We...

We don't go in there.

It's locked.

It's always locked.

Huh!

Happy now?
- Very happy.

Who's that?
- Hmm?

You and the hottie
lolling about half-naked.

Yeah, she's no-one.

Bit dusty.

I haven't been home
since he died, so...

And there it is.

I hate that sound.

Is the bellbird's
call actually a warning?

Any time a real estate
agent tries to sell you

a parcel of paradise with
those beautiful bellbird calls,

don't walk - run.

It's a trap?
- Exactly.

You know, the bell miner -
it looks harmless enough

but they kill everything around
them until there's nothing left.

It's called dieback.

Was your father's fame a trap?

Sorry?

Was it hard to live up to?

Any time someone's
so universally loved,

you don't have a choice.

You walk in a long shadow.

What?!

Don't always want to be fucked
and choked at the same time.

Not what it says in your memoir.

You scratched me.

Fuck!
- Sorry.

Could it begin with a
song from their childhood?

'Cause that's
the fucking problem.

Fuck off!

There she is.

Sometimes
I don't want to be her.

You have
nine new voice messages.

Hey, it's me.

I don't know why
I can't get through.

Anyway, I'm arriving
on the 10 o'clock bus.

I-I can't wait to see you.

Hey, will you pick
me up in the old car?

Ok, bye.

Did you steal them?
- He gave them to me.

He loves me.
- Gross!

Which one?

Stars. Yeah.

I don't know why
she's gotta come now.

Of all the weeks,
this week. This "no-one".

Well, because she's not no-one.

And, you know,
I haven't seen her for years.

You'd do the same
for one of your friends.

No, I wouldn't.

Maybe... that's why
you haven't got any.

I'm an island.

Right, you stay here
and be an island.

And I'll be back soon.

Ah, and a word of warning -

she's seductive
and a devious liar.

Thought she was your friend.

She is.

He told me to tell you
something!

You have to teach me a lesson.

They don't have cars
where you come from?

Povvo ones,
not like this sexy beast.

Don't hurt it.
- I won't.

Turn the key.

Yeah, no, I'm looking
at the pages right now.

Mm-hm.

I know. I know it's overdue,
yeah.

But she doesn't want anyone
to see it before she's finished.

Uh-huh. And can I just tell you,

I don't want to oversell it
but it's good.

It's good, yeah. Maybe
even better than the old man.

Uh-huh.

Yeah, worth every
cent of our advance.

Sorry I didn't come
see you at the funeral.

It's Ok.
- I couldn't stay.

I had this thing. I mean,
it's all very complicated.

But anyway, that's done now.

Totally done.
- It's Ok.

Yeah, my fuckin' boss
accuses me of stealing their tips.

And I thought,
"I've busted my arse for years

"fucking schlepping
tables for that piece of shit."

So fuck him.
- Did you steal them?

Maybe. Hey, I had to.

Rent, coke... Who knew
life was so expensive?

What about that guy
you were seeing?

Lenny?
- Yeah.

Yeah, well, hard to see
someone who's serving 7 to 10.

What did he do?

Fucked me with an
intent to ruin my life.

It's great to see
you, it really is. But...

..you can't stay the whole week.

I've got my
publisher here and I'm...

trying to start the next book.

Hi.

Hey.

And don't worry.

You won't even know I'm here.

I doubt that.

Best friend.
- Publisher.

Liar.

She told you.
- She tells me everything.

Warned.

So which room should I take?

Usual one?

She means my old room. And...

tongue back in mouth.

Oh, my old bed!

Oh, it's good to be back.

Come on, you're gonna
have to stay in here with me.

I'm working.
- Oh, come on! It'll be fun.

Alright, maybe one night.
- Yeah, it'll be good.

Just don't make a mess.
- What, me?

How long is she staying?
- Couple of days.

I don't know if that's good.

Well, she's had a
rough trot, you know.

I couldn't just put her back
on a bus and send her away.

You're the one who
said she was a monster.

God, look at you.
You're already under her spell.

What?

Calm down.

Mum and Dad...

cocktail time.

So did she tell you about us?

No.

Perfect.

"She was standing
at the bus stop.

"Her clothes were far too tight.

"Far too tight

"for her curves, to contain her.

"They strained
against her thighs...

"the parts of her
she was trying to conceal."

What are you,
a fuckin' man or a mouse?

Um...

I still
don't believe you.

Seriously.

No.
- How did you two meet?

Catholic girls' school.
- Really?!

Mmm. It happens,
not just in the movies.

And pornos.

Well, actually we met
in the confessional, so...

Yeah, I had
a burning confession.

And I was pretending
to be a priest

and I wanted
to hear a secret.

And what was the secret?

Well...
- Well...

I'd been felt up
by one of the nuns.

Well, it was the first time I'd
been touched sexually, you know.

And, well, I needed to tell
someone the good news

so I turned to God.

Yes, I have, um...
I've heard that one before.

Yeah, well, you know...

Jesus, it happened to
a lot of us. She's not special.

Dark habits and lots
of canings in rectories.

And instead of 10 Hail Marys...

She invited me for the
summer to meet her famous father.

I came every summer
until I stopped coming.

And why did you stop coming?

Well, that... that...

I think we need
more alcohol for that.

You know...

I need to work tomorrow, so...

I read your memoir.
- It's brilliant, isn't it?

Don't.
- No, no.

Look, he is right.

I mean, it's not
The Bellbird's Warning,

but it's brilliantly crafted.

Maybe next time
you'll get what you deserve.

A Pulitzer.

She hates praise.

I love praise.

I'm going inside.

Second novel syndrome.
- Is that what it is?

I can hear you!

Hey, I'm sorry.

She's a bit distracting.

I can't do it.

Go and tell her.
I'll finish off here.

Goodnight.

I thought you
were going to tell her.

I tried.

So she has actually read it.

You were right. I should
never have let her stay.

I'm in a hole with your advance.

I need this book.

And your beautiful liar
is getting in the way.

So unless you tell her...

I will.

I'll do it.

I just need peace and quiet
right now.

You're taking it the wrong way.

The wrong fucking way?
Which way should I take it?

What's that story about the
guy in the attic and the painting?

He gets younger as the
portrait withers and dies?

Dorian Gray.
- Yes, Dorian Gray.

'Cause I'm the withering
fucking portrait.

You're just going
through a rough patch.

Oh, how fucking reassuring!
You should write gift cards.

So how's the writing coming on?

It's fine.
- That's not what he said.

Yeah? What'd he say?
- He said you're struggling.

Well, maybe I am a little bit.
It's normal after such success.

"That's normal
after such success."

How much you want this time?

I don't want your money.
- Well, what, then? Say it.

This was a mistake.
You should go.

You don't have to struggle.

Turn it up!

So demanding.

Ahhh!

It's alright, I've got it.
I've got this.

Let's talk
about the story.

Two girls, a boy.

The boy dies.
- Mmm. They murder him.

I'd like to read you
a passage for comment.

Of course.

Hey, you've done your research.

Mmm. Yeah, there was
an accident.

A boy died on your property.

Yeah, true.

And you write about
a murdered boy.

Everything's fair game.
- Everything?

And everyone.

Don't.

Ground rule number one -

I need to work.

So there is
no more boozy soirees -

I need six hours
of quiet every day.

No more boozy soirees.
- And no more music.

Come on, that's not fair.
- Uh-uh-uh!

Fine. No music.
- Good.

If I hear so much as a peep out
of either of you, you're out.

You got it?

Got it.

Good.

I'm just going for a run.

You're keen.

You want to do something?

Six hours a day.

Just so precious.

Yeah.

I'm just gonna lie here
and do nothing.

Fuck!

There's a dead snake.

How can I use that?

There's a snake...

Hey. Hey, listen, mate. Mate.

I'm not sure if I
offended you the other day,

but if I did,
I'm really sorry, Ok?

I'm from the city. I'm not...

Got to be careful of snakes.

Definitely.

Not here.

Back there, where you came from.

Those two girls.

Fuckin' snakes.

What? What?

You tell 'em I hate snakes.

Cut their heads off.

Fuck!

Oh, hi.

I won't look over your shoulder.

I will just quietly...

quietly, quietly
drop that there.

Hey, wait.

Sit with me.

So what's with the publisher?

Don't know.

He seems self-entitled to me.

Mmm.

Pretty nice and smart,
once you get to know him.

Well, I won't get
to know him. - Thanks.

I've missed this.

Me too.

I'm going to sell the property.

You can't!

I hardly ever come here...

and there's too much history.

So I'm going to
give you some money.

You can go back to school.

You set yourself up.

That...

country...

fuckface

threw a dead snake at me.

It could have been alive.

It's not finished, you know.

Course it's not.

Hey, you Ok?

I'm far from Ok.

Hey, sorry for... for laughing.

He threw a dead snake at me!

What the fuck?!
Is that a thing out here?

No, not that I remember.

Oh, he called you a snake too.
Wants to cut your head off, FYI.

Charming.
- We have history, so...

Oh, God, no. Really?!
- Not that kind of history!

And anyway, I've got something
that's gonna cheer you up.

Having a snake thrown at
you is a bit of a boner killer.

I don't mean that.

I mean this.

Pages?
- Yeah.

Well, it's the
beginning of something.

He hates it.
- Oh, relax, will you?

Well?

Well, come on.
Don't hold us in suspense.

It's not landing for me.

Really?
- What does he mean?

Sorry, what does that mean?

It means I can see potential.

Two women...

..a dark secret,
away for the week.

One a writer with
a publisher boyfriend - cheeky.

The other, a muse.
- But?

It lacks that
raw emotional honesty

that your readers
have come to expect.

Maybe you're right.

Second novel syndrome.
- So how does it end?

Right now, I'm thinking
of a death.

The muse?
- The publisher.

My own.

God, can we have some fun now?

What's taking her so long?
- She's angry at you.

Holy Jesus! Is that real?

Yeah, and it's loaded.

In case we meet any
unwanted locals or snakes.

She's a great shot.

Oh, look at her.
She loves an audience.

You're very protective of her.
- Somebody has to be.

I can control myself.

That's interesting, 'cause
most men prefer her, you know.

My father, for one.

He called her
his little bellbird.

And that makes you angry?

You'd love that, wouldn't you?

Next minute,
we'll be mud-wrestling.

It shouldn't, you know. You have
everything and she has nothing.

Ok, so...

you've got to jam it
into your shoulder really tight.

Now, don't focus on the tip
of the barrel - focus here.

Got it?
- I got it!

Listen, I'm sorry about before.

I like the pages, Ok?
- No, you don't.

Anyway, it's Ok. They're shit.

Come on.

Fuck!

Attaboy!
- Let me.

Told you -
it's all in the shoulder.

What happened to your foot?

I just stepped on
a piece of glass. It's nothing.

You're in the wars, aren't you?

Don't worry, I'll protect you.

Do you know why Butch
Cassidy likes to throw snakes?

There's history.
- Yep, there certainly is.

We were 14...
- We were here.

Just as we are now.

Sunny, his younger brother, was
standing over there on the shore

and he tried to swim out to us.

But he didn't make it.

Actually, he...
- He drowned.

He just drowned?

You couldn't jump
in and save him?

Doesn't seem like it's that far.

We tried, but... No, it all
just happened so quickly.

Well, that's the story.

No, it's not just a story.
It's a statement of fact.

You know, I gave a
statement to the police.

Father helped us sort it out.

So you knew him.

What?

The other day on the
road, when we arrived.

You acted like you
didn't know him, but you did.

You know,
if I remember correctly,

I was protecting you
from yourself.

"You know why...

"he likes to throw snakes?

"Because there's history."

Fuck you!

What are you doing?

You have such expensive taste.

Let me see. Um...

What about this one?

It's expensive.

You're angry.

No.

It's McQueen.
You should have it.

It's gonna look
better on you anyway.

Thanks.

Nice dress.

Does she know you have it?

Now, what's the one thing
that you want to see most of all?

I don't have time for games.

Think about it, fanboy.

I know where all
the bodies are buried.

Oh, God, that smell.

It's exactly the same.

I can feel him
watching us.

I can too.

Why are the windows
all boarded up?

I don't know. It was
probably done after his death.

Keep out the elements, fans.

Like a shrine?
- More like a tomb.

Ah!

Look.

My youth.

So it's true.
- What's true?

You were his favourite.
- Why do you say that?

That's him in the reflection,
right?

He always said I was
destined for greatness.

Stupidly, I believed him.

You're a waitress, aren't you?

I got fired, so
technically I'm nothing.

I'm sure
you're good at something.

Yeah.

Living in the shadow
of greatness.

There is no sun without shadow.

Camus said that.

Fuck Camus.

Yeah. Fuck Camus.

Although she would
agree with him.

So would the old man.

He used his...
sunny powers of celebrity

to help us with
the dead boy problem.

What are you saying?

What, he lied for you?
- El scandalo.

She said it was an accident.

You said it was an accident.
She avoided the question.

What are you doing?

I'm shining light on
the shadow of greatness.

So, if it wasn't an accident...

what happened?

Why don't you ask her?
And while you're at it...

ask her about her memoir.

For someone who trades
in lies, you're pretty dim.

Are you saying
she didn't write the book?

Tap-tap-tap on
the keyboard. Hmm?

Pretty easy to make that sound.

You're un-fucking-believable.

Don't you laugh at me.
- Look at you.

You're wearing her dress,
claiming her story.

Fuck you.
- You even tried to hit on me.

I don't want you.

I want you to get the fuck out

before I smash
your fucking face in.

Get the fuck out.

I don't believe it.

Good, because it's not true.

She's jealous of you.
- She always has been.

I said to you, don't trust her.

But no, you're like
a cartoon wolf.

It's not my fault
her life's a fucking mess.

The hangovers, the losers!

And then, just when she thinks
something's going to happen...

Franklin...

Sunny.

Hello?

Hello?

What do you want?

Hey, I... I don't want a fight.

Seems like you do.

Just trying to
figure out the truth.

About?

Your brother.

I think she's writing about him.

It's a free country.

Did he drown in the lake?

Do you know why
we called him Sunny?

He was fuckin' terrified
of water. He couldn't swim.

Like the Sundance Kid.
That was his nickname.

I should've been there for him.

How much justice
can you afford?

That's how it
goes round here.

Didn't you get the memo?
Jogging can kill.

I'm heading back to the city.

What? What's wrong now?

Just confused.
- About?

Us. You. Everything.

You know, I can't believe
you're still going on about it.

I spoke with Butch Cassidy.

So?

He tells me his
brother couldn't swim.

If he couldn't swim, what
was he doing in the water?

He was a horny boy.
I don't know.

What happened to the kid?

You know what?

Maybe I need
a different publisher,

one that believes in me.

Why don't you stay out here?

I hope a snake does bite you.

Ever heard the expression
"A work of art is a confession?"

No.

Guess who said that.

Fortune cookie?

Albert Camus. I'm
surprised you didn't know that.

Yeah, well, fuck Camus.

Why would I write a
confession and hide it in a story?

I don't know. That's what
I'm trying to get straight.

Well, it wouldn't be much
of a confession, would it?

Not unless
there's another reason.

But then,
you don't kiss and tell.

Well, that depends.
- On?

The kiss.

"I was in Moscow after Glasnost.

"Such wealth and poverty,

"all entirely without rules.

"A powder keg of depravity.

"I was staying in a hostel

"near the train station.

"I'd run out of money,
knew no-one.

"But I thought, a girl
like me can always find

"the sharp edge of a knife."

So I found an
underground club.

It was some abandoned
remnant of a hotel -

it was full of
oligarchs and hookers.

The Hotel Rossiya.

I danced and I drank
whatever they gave me.

And then I wasn't in
the Hotel Rossiya anymore...

..and I wasn't dancing.

When I woke up,

all I could see was a forest.

Trees and shadows.

There were lots of
shadows moving around me,

with torchlights.

And they were
pushing me forward.

One of them, he took my hand.

The other, he stripped me naked.

He forced me onto the
ground and he spread my legs.

My whole body burned

from the fallen
needles of the fir trees.

They were cutting into my skin.

And then I felt
the first shadow.

And then when he
finished, the next started.

And then the next.

The funny thing was,
I wasn't thinking...

I thought, "This isn't
an orgy. This isn't rape.

"This isn't dirt in
my mouth. This is theatre.

"I need to play my
part and play it well."

So I stared straight into those
flashlights and I didn't flinch.

It's so hard to imagine
that terror can be so erotic.

But it can...

when you're being
fucked by shadows.

You don't think she could
have come up with that, do you?

I mean, she's good.

But she's not as good as me.

I'm ruined.

Welcome to the club.

Hey!

Now who's the
pathetic one? Go on.

Take it out on me.

Be a man! Huh?

It's hard to imagine...

..terror can be so erotic.

But it can be, when
you're being fucked by shadows.

Now you have the real thing.

Don't you see that
one lie leads to another?

You know...
- The fake memoir, the dead boy?

I didn't know
he couldn't swim.

I don't think you know
what's true anymore.

That would be fine,

except for the fact that
you have destroyed my life,

stolen someone else's
and quite possibly killed a boy.

So...

So you come here,

you assault her,

and then you try to leave.

You're kidding me.

Can I do that?
Can I do that?

Fuck it. Yes, I can.

Ok. Go to the police, then.

Nah.

I don't think you will.

Maybe I will.

Come on, Sunny. Sing!

You were there.
You tell me what happened.

Sunny!

What the fuck is that?

The last words he ever heard.

Get fuckin' off me!

Get off me!

I can call her back. I
called her here the first time!

No, I asked her to come.

The muse - I asked.

Then he gets her and he
THROWS her up against the wall

and he says,
"You fuckin' bitch!"

Forgot my phone. Just a sec.

Hey.

Oh...

Hi! Sorry, he's decided to stay.

Suit yourself.

Long way to come
to change your mind.

That's what I said.

She knows
what she's going to do.

She's just waiting now.

The study window.

It's boarded up.

Shafts of light
through the boards.

And he's yelling,
"You fucking bitch!

"Let me out."
- Let me out!

He's trapped.

Little bellbird.

Come inside.

Where's the other one?

She's down at the lake... No.

She's with Butch Cassidy.

And she is covered in blood.

She's got a very...

faint smile.

I want to refer to
a term you used earlier -

"dieback".

When the bell miner takes
everything good from the tree,

leaving it to rot
from the top down.

How do you stop it?

Well, you have to start again.
Burn everything to the ground.

Something new
has to go in its place,

something living
to replace the dead.

It occurs to me that you've
done the same thing with your book -

erased the past and
replaced it with something new,

a new story about
the murdered boy.

No, you can't change the past.

But you can rewrite it.

He's got a gun.

Yep.

And so have we.

Like to beat up women, do you?

I'm talking to you!

I just don't want
any more trouble.

This is what happens
when you make up stories.

"I just don't want...

"any... more... trouble."

Can you read
this out loud for me?

Take your time.

"First it was just us.

"It was a driving lesson.

"Then we decided to go
swimming, turned onto the track,

"the one that leads to the lake,
and that's when we saw him."

Could you hold it there
for just one second?

Do you mind if
we take a short break?

No.

I'll be right back.

Hey.

How's it going?
- Good.

What's she like?

Classic narcissistic
personality disorder,

plus daddy issues.

Sounds like fun.
- Barrel of monkeys fun.

Where were we?

That's right - you were reading.

"At first it was just us.

"A driving lesson, but then
we decided to go swimming."

I don't get it. Maybe
you can clear this up for me.

One is a sworn
statement of truth

and one is a complete fiction.

But which one is which?

Please, isn't it obvious?

At this point in our interview,

I would like to
read you your rights.

You don't need to do that.
- I do need to do that.

Because what happens
with someone like you

is you get a
high-priced lawyer

to come in and say that
I didn't follow procedure,

and then the whole thing
gets tossed out on a technicality.

Do you understand?

Yes.

Ok, I'll talk to him and
get a sense of how mad he is.

Pretty mad, I'd say.
- Tries anything, shoot him.

I can't shoot...
- Take it!

Hey, it's me.

Um...

I'm sorry if I hurt you earlier.

But what do you say -
could we...

Could we work towards
an amicable resolution?

What the...
- Fuck?!

Go.

Be careful!

Come out, come out,
wherever you are.

Oh!

Don't shoot!

He's running!

Why write a different
version of the same events?

Which one is true?
Which one is the lie?

One of them couldn't
exist without the other.

I'm talking about a murder,
not a... a literary device!

The coroner
ruled it inconclusive.

But he didn't know
that the boy couldn't swim.

He was terrified of water.

You had it removed
from the record.

My father did.
He was protecting me.

And your friend?
Did he protect her?

Go right!

Get up!

Get up!

Get out.

I-I won't go to the police.

Whatever you're
thinking, please... don't.

Just shut up and walk.

Walk!

Did she do that to you?

You did that.

You assaulted her, remember?

Just tell him.
- Tell me what?!

He was here too.

Go on, tell him.
- Why?

Because it matters.
- Not to me! It doesn't matter.

He got out of hand,
just like you have.

Help!

Sunny, get off.
Sunny, get off!

Help! Help!

Sunny!

Get off! Help!

Get off, Sunny! Help!

So you killed him
in self-defence.

No.

Not exactly.

Is he dead?

Tell him everything.

You don't have to
lie for me anymore.

Grab his arms. Do it!

I covered it up.
- WE covered it up.

But not anymore.

The truth needs to be told.

He's alive.

He's alive!

He's alive!

He's gone.

I found a way to step out of
the shadows and into the light.

We went back to the house and
I explained everything to Father.

I told him that
Sunny attacked me.

And I made him
believe it was true

so that he would protect me.

And did he protect you?

Yes.

And after she told her father,

they made up a whole new
story and said it was an accident.

And I had to go along
with the whole fucking thing.

What the fuck's this
got to do with me?!

I told you,
she needs an audience.

Oh, not now. The show's over.

And you know too much.
- You could stop her.

I don't want to stop her.

Your DNA.

Her bruises.
- Fuckin' liars!

It's just enough for the police

to buy you as a
violent sexual predator.

How do you fuckin'
live with yourself?!

Now you know the end.
I hope you're not disappointed.

It's not exactly an 'up' ending.

Best friend.

"At first, it was
just us - a driving lesson.

"But then we decided
to go swimming.

"We turned at the track,

"the one that leads to the lake,

"and that's where we saw him.

"I'll never forget
what happened.

"We were floating
around on the pontoon.

"I remember him
diving into the water.

"But he never came up for air."

"He just vanished."

Why isn't there a
statement from your friend?

Because they believed me.
- I don't believe you.

You're gonna need
more evidence than that.

I know you killed him.

I know it.

But what I can't understand

is why you would
write a book about it.

Mack Barton, the real boy.

15 years old. Brother to
Angus, son to Keith and Judy.

You have the power
to give the family closure.

Did you kill Mack Barton?

You charge me

or you let me go.

It's for her,
isn't it? The book?

Oh, congratulations - you've
read the dedication. Well done.

I'm actually talking
to the wrong person.

I should be talking to her.

If you see your friend, tell
her that I'd like to speak to her.

Yeah, if I see her.

He read your book.

Made a complaint.

"Your DNA, her bruises -
just enough for the police

"to buy you as a
violent sexual predator.

"Now you know how it ends.
I hope you're not disappointed.

"It's not exactly
an 'up' ending."

But, of course,
that's not how it ends.

You'll have to buy the book.

Thank you.
- Thank you.

She loves an audience.

Do you know her?

Yeah, we know each other.

Hey.
- Hey.

You were spectacular.
- Aww.

Thank you.

Cheers.
- Cheers.

Can you sign
this for me, please?

Of course.

What would you
like me to write?