All language subtitles for El.arbol.de.la.sangre.2018.1080p.en

When did Amaia's parents die?

Two years ago.

This was Amaia's bedroom.

This place is alive!

I can't wait to start!

I'm ready.

Remember what we agreed.
No politics.

Yes, no political ideologies.

I'll start. Brace yourself.

Summer 1991.

Nuria Bellmunt, my mother,

was at her family's house
in Lloret de Mar,

on the Costa Brava,

when her parents, my grandparents,

were run over and killed.

My mother was told
it was an accident.

She was left all alone,

with the house,

and a whole summer ahead of her.

Friends and relatives
tried to comfort her,

but she went and fell for a Russian.

Dimitri wasn't Russian,
he was a fucking Georgian.

The first time,
she gave him what he wanted,

to get him off her.

But the second,
she was confused and terrified.

She paid double.

The third time,
she was incredibly lucky.

One morning, her father's
driver and bodyguard appeared,

Olmo Mendoza.

I saw your parents get run over.

I was waiting in the car for them.

It was the Georgian mafia.

Pack your things, right now.

Grab everything you can.

Where are you taking me?

Don't come back to the Costa Brava
for at least ten years.

What about my house?

It'll be the HQ
of a Georgian mafia boss.

I'll call the police.

If you do, they'll kill you.

What are you doing?

I want a swim.

She was all alone,
with her parents' car.

She didn't know how to drive.

"She didn't know how to drive."

And your mother?
Where was she then?

My mother was La Maca.

She was at the height
of her musical success.

You offer me a trip
through my loins.

Licking.

While I go to heaven,
you keep exploring me.

The sex of the world,
my sex.

I was conceived
during her last album.

The sex of the world,
my sex.

My biological father
was a faceless stranger.

My mother remembers fucking him,
but nothing else.

She was out of it on drugs
at the time.

I almost died at birth.

They had to cut my chest open twice.

Now for my favourite character.

Hello.

Are you La Maca?

I'm a fan of your music.

Well, of you actually.

A big fan.

My mother saw in one look
that she needed this man.

V�ctor Mendoza
was a godsend in our lives.

Enter my grandparents:
P�o Santolaya and Candela L�pez.

In their country house in Seville.

They accepted V�ctor right away.

To my grandmother,
he was an angel sent by God.

My grandfather treated him
like the son he never had.

Let's go.

What is it?

Nothing.

It was as if her baby
suddenly frightened her.

Shut up! Shut up!

Shut up!

No! Shut up!

Maca! Maca!

Maca!

It's OK.

Those voices are driving me crazy.

Those voices are driving me crazy!

They're driving me crazy!

ENTRANCE

My mother asked them to commit her.

You'll be fine, OK?

You'll be fine.

V�ctor was left with me,
like a single dad.

My grandfather paid him
an allowance,

gave him a job in the company
selling houses,

and even gave him one of them.

Let's talk about
the children from Russia.

That's your subject.

With the intense bombing
of Bilbao since January 1937,

the Basque Government has evacuated
20,000 children by sea to Europe.

In June, just days before the fall
of Bilbao into rebel hands,

1,500 children
were sent to Russia.

So many children will be raised
as orphans in exile!

So many parents will mourn
sending their children so far away!

That's Jacinto Mendoza.
The girl is Julieta de Paula.

Jacinto fell in love with Julieta

the first time
he heard her play the piano.

This is her as a teenager
playing a piece she wrote aged 12.

They were recruited
by the KGB as children.

Both of them, as a couple.

Their sons, V�ctor and Olmo,

also received tough military training.

And they liked it.

V�ctor says it was a very happy time
for the Mendozas.

After the Berlin Wall came down,
Russia didn't need spies in Spain,

so V�ctor and Olmo came to work
in Lloret, my mother's town.

What about Jacinto and Julieta?

They moved two years later

to the coast, near Alicante.

They bought a villa
on the seafront in Denia,

Julieta's hometown.

Even whispers
aren't heard in the garden.

Everything has died down
till morning.

If you only knew

how dear to me

are these Moscow nights.

We know little about Olmo
at that time.

He stopped being a driver
and bodyguard.

What else?

He was working as a gigolo.

For chicks with money.
And he was worth it.

Olmo could make himself
irresistible to any woman.

He had 300 mg of testosterone
per cubic centimetre of blood.

Twice the average amount.

- According to a blood test.
- Really?

Yes.

And how much do you have?

What do you reckon?

Marc.

We've only just started.

I'M NOT DEAD
AMAIA ZUGAZA

I remember my mum
reading the manuscript.

Is this where you come in?

Yes.

I, Marc Bellmunt, could tell
when she liked a manuscript.

It was by a young Basque writer,
Amaia Zugaza.

There was Amaia already.

Knocking at your mum's door.

She wrote it here,

at that very desk.
Her first novel.

It won loads of prizes.

Too many.

It was overrated.

My mum fell in love like a teenager.

It only happened that one time.

I only found out much later.

Your mum loves doing it in water.

So do I.

I know.

V�ctor is waiting for us.

V�ctor couldn't get my mum to see me,

or even to leave the hospital
to spend time with us.

The poor woman was unhinged.

It was a mixture of panic and shame.

And guilt, no?

For rejecting her daughter.

V�ctor said she rejected herself
as a mother.

Then, one evening,
V�ctor had a wonderful idea.

This is where you come in.

I already appeared as a baby.

But yes, here I was six.

I remember it well.

Rebeca,
what is your mum most afraid of?

Of me?

No!

Of the voices, right?

How about you reach your mum
through your voice?

When she realises it's your voice
and only yours,

she'll keep listening.

What should I say?

Ask her to sing you to sleep.

Hello, V�ctor.

Mum, it's Rebeca.

Rebeca.

- Is that your voice?
- Yes, and that's yours.

- You have a beautiful voice.
- So do you, Mummy.

Thank you.

- That's why I called.
- Oh, really?

Will you sing to me?

Then I'll fall asleep
to your song.

Your hands fall asleep.

Your eyes,
which can still hear me,

close themselves to the world.

Rebeca,

Rebeca...

So that's what we did
for several nights,

and V�ctor also enjoyed
my mum's voice.

Good night, my child.

She's fallen asleep.

V�CTOR HUNG UP.

V�ctor.

V�ctor is so great!

Are we OK?

Yes.

Olmo is about to arrive.
Right here.

At this old Basque farmhouse
of all places.

At that moment in time,

Olmo was looking
to change his life completely.

Amaia happened to be in Madrid.

She had just received an award.

The following day
she would return here, to the farm.

Amaia had five orgasms in a row.

Nobody had ever given her
so much pleasure.

"Five orgasms in a row"?

"Nobody had ever given her
so much pleasure"?

How do you know?

It makes it sexier.

All right. Your turn.

Thanks for driving me home.

I'm going away too.

I have my luggage in the boot.

Where are you going?

I don't know.

To some mountain.

The cows... Are they yours?

No.

My parents are old now,
they sold theirs years ago.

Do you like cows?

I'm a bull.

Well, this valley is full of cows.

Do you recognise him?

No.

I could live here.

I'll figure out a reason for you to stay.

Couldn't they do that
somewhere else?

Let them kiss.

Meanwhile, V�ctor made great strides.

ENTRANCE

Macarena is waiting in the garden.

Thank you.

Your mother is going to be
like a magic tree,

she's going to
step out of the soil,

go to her room,

shower and put on the dress
I brought her yesterday,

which looks amazing on her,

then she's going to stand
right there,

so you'll be face to face,

mother and daughter.

- Are you nervous?
- Of course.

V�ctor, you're even better
than a real father.

V�ctor.

You're even better
than a real father.

I'm going to call you "Dad".

Thank you, "Daughter".

Hello.

Mum!

V�ctor wants me to come back home.

So do I!

I hope my voices won't bother you.

Of course not.

Then yours won't bother me either.

Mum, what are the voices like?

Not voices.

It's just one.

And what does it sound like?

Like a boy.

It's a boy.

Sometimes he uses different voices,
but I know it's him.

And what does he say?

That I'm not his mother.
He's always held it against me.

Tell him he's right,
you only have one kid, and it's me.

Tell him to piss off.

No, then he'll appear in my dreams
and scream in my ear.

Can you hear him now?

He says if I think gardening
is going to distract him,

then I'm a fool.

V�ctor and Olmo both decided
to marry and have a family.

Two families. One each.

Olmo and Amaia were married
in this meadow,

surrounded by cows,

and V�ctor and your mother
were surrounded by bulls.

From my grandparents' ranch.

The weddings were several years apart.

Six years.

But we don't mind that.

I love that detail.

I was eight at V�ctor's wedding
and 14 at Olmo's.

Just like me.

That's where we met.

At the cow wedding.

As a little girl, I sped south
in the groom's car.

As a teenager,
the same car, going north.

This time, with the groom's brother
and my mum.

I was also going north,
with my mum.

She didn't realise yet who the groom
at that wedding actually was.

That's where we first met.

We don't know when Julieta
disconnected from reality.

She lived her life
plunged in a deep stupor.

What's that?

We'll get to that.

The Mendozas only attended
their son Olmo's wedding.

At Victor's wedding,
my grandparents were still proud

that their side
had won the Civil War.

Rebeca.

No politics.

Dearly beloved,

today we join
Macarena Santolaya

and V�ctor Mendoza

as they are joined in holy matrimony.

Welcome.

Amaia Zugaza and Olmo Mendoza
are here to be married

to love and support each other

and live together under the law.

My parents had Father Jes�s,
my grandfather's brother.

I now declare you husband and wife.

My beautiful girl.

Dad.

Mum.

Son-in-law.

Such a pity your brother
and your sister can't be here.

A pity?

I wouldn't have invited them.

A kiss! A kiss!

- To the bride and groom!
- Cheers!

A kiss! A kiss!

Kiss! Kiss!

Kiss! Kiss!

That was the first time
I wanted to kiss you.

I hadn't noticed you yet.

My dear daughter, stand up,

and gaze upon the summit

home of your protector,

Mary, Lady of Anboto Mountain.

Dear Amaia, stand up

and walk freely

on your own mountain,

steadfastly on your path.

- Dad.
- Thank you!

Rebeca.

I love you more than anything.

V�CTOR MENDOZA
SALES MANAGER

- Father.
- Thank you.

And you, V�ctor,
where were you baptised?

Me? Nowhere, Father.
I'm not baptised.

Excuse me.

He didn't try the cake.

Let's not overreact.

I think you assumed
there was nothing wrong about it.

Let it go.

My brother left so he can pretend
he didn't hear it.

Or else he'd have to annul
the marriage.

Am I baptised?

- Yes, darling. You are.
- Really?

When was she baptised?
I don't remember.

In the hospital.
You were really low.

We baptised you
before the second operation.

We thought you were going to die.

It was so you would go
straight to heaven.

Look, my mum and yours.

They have a connection.

Dad, how come you've never
mentioned your parents to me?

- You've never even introduced me.
- Haven't I?

Don't worry.

I'll introduce myself.

Hello, grandfather.

I'm sorry, I'm not your grandfather.

Well, your son, V�ctor,
is like a father to me.

Julieta.

This is your granddaughter, Rebeca.

And I'm your daughter-in-law,
Macarena.

- What's happening?
- She wants to tell us something.

Do you want to touch them?

Play any tune you like.

Poor woman.
She's suffered so much.

My son...

Looking after you is the best thing
my son has done in his life.

Olmo, this is Nuria, my editor.

Hello.
Amaia has told me a lot about you.

My mother recognised Olmo,
but she didn't tell Amaia.

Nuria Bellmunt.

When Olmo heard the name Bellmunt,

he realised he had known her
years earlier.

- May I borrow her?
- Of course.

Olmo remembered Amaia telling him
that one time, just once,

she went swimming with her editor.

My mother had been in the sea
with the bride, and with the groom.

What happened next?

It was very strange.

Two storms.
One at each wedding.

But how did they start?

The sky rumbled

and great black clouds appeared,

carried by a hot wind.

My mother had a terrible feeling.

And remarkably,
one of the cows went missing.

The biggest one.

That's what Olmo said.

What happened?

A powerful force arrived from...
I don't know where.

You wrote me a letter.

- I know. Don't remind me.
- I have it here.

- Don't you dare read it.
- Hey.

Not many people can boast about
receiving a genuine love letter.

It's beautiful.

It says a lot.

More than you think.

This boy has a beautiful voice.

How are you going to respond?

Is no hope at all really necessary?

It's what I feel.

Maybe you shouldn't send it.
Just in case.

You want to give him hope?

Don't send it.
She didn't answer the first one.

This makes you sound desperate.

I resigned myself to it.

Being desperate for you.

And I was focused on my mum.

The wind blows...

Who was feeling much better.

...tangling up my insides.

I've got branches for ribs,

and spiders in my throat.

I convinced my dad
to lower her medication.

I wanted more mum and I got it.

How long did that go on for?

Each doing our own thing?

The time it took Amaia
to write her second novel.

Nine months, like a pregnancy.

Amaia wanted a child with Olmo.

And he agreed to it.

But all that came out of her
was a novel.

Are you hungry?

Let's go to the kitchen.

There were photos of Amaia's siblings
on that wall.

Amaia sat there
with her back to them.

I don't blame her.

She didn't want to look at them.

The brother was a fugitive in Mexico
and the sister was in prison.

They killed nine people
between them.

The ones Amaia brought back to life
in her first novel, I'm Not Dead.

That novel spooked me out.

I found it fascinating.

It created waves around here.

No politics.

What did her parents think?

Amaia told me her dad liked it.

He thought it was brave.

Her mother started reading it,
then stopped.

I'm not surprised.
The killers were her children.

The last ones of the season.

They're the best.

Mum, speak to Olmo in Spanish.

- Sorry.
- No, please.

I love hearing you speak Basque.

Look at that.

He's not mute after all.

You don't understand, Olmo.

He probably just doesn't want
to understand us.

It was the language of my paternal
grandparents from Guernica.

They escaped the bombing
during the war.

They took my father
to the Soviet Union when he was seven.

If you speak to me in Basque,
I might be able to learn.

So you have Basque blood.

Blood?

I don't know
what blood I have anymore.

What's your problem, Olmo?

Why can't I bring
dead people back to life?

Because what is dead is dead.

It's only a novel.

Well, I don't like it.

You have to tell me about your past.

I know almost nothing about you
since Russia.

Before we got married,

we said you would never ask.

No, you said.

But I can't bear not knowing.

Those 14 years in Spain
before we met.

What was your life like?

Olmo, I'm your wife!

And I'm also a writer.

Tell me what you did!

Who the fuck are you?

Amaia grew suspicious.

Olmo could feel it.

There was a cold distance
between them.

But in bed, Olmo still had her.

Burning hot.

Sex had them fused together.

Until the last night
they ever spent together.

BURNING HOT BODIES

Now that, I like.

No dead people, just life.

Right, because it's you and me
going crazy for sex.

It's all there is between us, Olmo.

This will be our first time apart.

I'll only be in Barcelona for a day.

I want to give Nuria the manuscript
then sign a contract...

Will you still be here?

What do you want?

I want you to wait for me

so we can discuss our relationship.

Shall we go outside?
There's a full moon.

I like joining my branches to yours.

Tomorrow we'll have the whole tree.

With all its blood and truth.

Let's continue.

In the morning,
Olmo took Amaia to the airport.

IN THE MORNING,
OLMO TOOK AMAIA TO THE AIRPORT.

I want a proper goodbye kiss.

One of yours.
Nice and deep.

I'm taking your taste with me.

Who is she?

I'll tell you later
about the Russian, Veronika.

My mother didn't like
Amaia's erotic novel.

So you're not going to publish it?

No.

For your own good.

It's a step down.
You're better than this.

Write another.

Some local guy is taking liberties.
He's on our turf.

They want you to teach him a lesson.

One he won't forget?

Nothing major.
A knee, a hand...

Then you can sing for me.

I thought it was an accident,
but one day Olmo told me...

My mum told Amaia how she met
Olmo at her house in Lloret.

Olmo told me to invite Dimitri,
the Georgian, and...

Stop.

I left something out,
in order to tell you now.

When Olmo told my mum he'd been

her dad's driver and bodyguard,
he offered to help her.

Invite your Georgian lover over
this afternoon.

Tell him you have
an interesting offer for him.

My boss is coming.
Your father has no business here.

Neither do you.

He killed him?

Like a professional.

Like a professional.

Pack your things, right now.

I'll get you out of here.

Rebeca, we chose this night
for a reason.

So get ready.

It's a full moon for everybody.

The moon over the Mediterranean.

It's for you, Julieta.

What's wrong, Mum?

Nothing.

I wanted to write a song.

The moon has always inspired me.

But his voice won't let me.

Don't you realise?

I'm nobody now.

Ever since you were born,
I haven't been La Maca.

I haven't written one song!

They forced me to be your child!

No!

No.

Mum, it's me.

No.

I hate you, Mother!
Kill me again!

You're not going to hurt me.

Fight! You can beat him!

My father arrived late
too many times.

And sometimes too late
for a salesman.

Are you OK?

That night he smelled of perfume.

My mother never held it against him.

Forgive me, my love.

I only live for your forgiveness.

Hello.

Seeing Amaia reminded me of you
and of the wedding.

Hello.

A song is heard,

yet unheard,

in these silent nights.

Why do you, dear,

look askance,

with your head lowered so?

It is hard to express...

Still not answering?

No.

My parents say
he hasn't been back all day.

I was dreaming all night long.

Because this is Olmo and Amaia's bed.

I like what we're doing,
both of us telling our story,

from our guts.

The tree of our blood, mixed.

How about another fuck?

Tonight, when we finish,
we'll celebrate.

I'm going to shower.

Hello, Olmo.
You didn't sleep at home.

Should I make it easy
and pack my bags?

The wardrobe is already open.

Empty your side then.

I told you this wouldn't last.

I feel bad.
Especially for our daughter.

Mother, Father, goodbye.

And thank you, from my heart.

Let's continue.

Ready?

My father encouraged Olmo
to come and live with us.

Thank you.

It'll be OK.

Rebeca has given up her room.

There's no need, Rebeca.

I'll sleep in the next room over.

But if you don't mind,

we'll have to share the wardrobe.

Sure.

Thank you, Rebeca.

Olmo was always at home.

And my dad kept coming home late.

Hello.

My mother was always on time.

And with Amaia cooking,
we ate much better.

But Amaia was up to something.

Something bigger.

When my mother told her
about Olmo,

Amaia decided to write
about the Russian mafia in Spain.

She'd spent three years researching.

One afternoon, she told us
her latest discoveries.

My theory

is that Olmo Mendoza worked as
your parents' driver and bodyguard

to get information about your family.

As a spy?

Olmo was a soldier
for a major Russian mafia gang.

The boss was his father,
Jacinto Mendoza.

He sent his sons V�ctor and Olmo
from Russia

to set up on the Costa Brava.

But the Georgians
also wanted Lloret de Mar.

They ran over your parents
to eliminate Olmo

and extort money from you.

That's what they did.

They made me sell for a pittance.

It became the HQ of the Georgian mafia
on that coast.

If the Georgians hadn't arrived,

would Olmo have kept the house?

Sure. And Jacinto Mendoza
would be living there now.

Why did he kill Dimitri if he knew
he couldn't stop the Georgians?

For honour.

You never knew you had married...?

A member of a criminal organisation?

I knew Olmo was hiding
something bad from his past,

but he never seemed dangerous.

- Did he have tattoos?
- Yes, I liked them.

- Did you see any tattoos?
- Yes, a few.

And you didn't suspect anything?

What about V�ctor?

- My dad?
- Did he have tattoos?

Just a tattoo of my mum's face
on his shoulder.

Maybe to cover another.

What?

Let's do my mum's wedding.

I personally made sure
you were invited.

Thanks.

Otherwise, we wouldn't be here.

Sorry! I overslept.

Last time I saw you in a suit
was your wedding.

You looked so handsome.

- Is this the same suit?
- Yes.

It's your ex-wife's wedding.
She'll notice.

What's this?

Two bulls butting heads.

You and V�ctor?

Your suit and my dress want to dance.

If it was their wedding day,
what would they say?

My dress would say "I do".

What about you, suit,

do you take my dress?

Say "I do", silly. It's a game.

I'm not playing that game.

It was a game to tell you the truth.

The biggest truth
that I've kept inside

for the last four years.

Since I was 14.

What do you mean
"the biggest truth"?

- It was the first time ever.
- That you said you loved someone?

It was, but it wasn't.

I didn't want anything.
Just to say it and get it out.

And what did he say?

What did he say?

I'm 30 years older than you.

And I'm your uncle.

"Relax, Uncle Olmo.
We're not blood-related."

We're not blood-related.

You're contradicting yourself.

You did want more.

As the Lebanese poet
Khalil Gibran said:

"Love one another,

but make not a bond of love".

Amaia, do you take Nuria
to be your lawfully wedded wife?

I do.

Nuria, do you take Amaia
to be your lawfully wedded wife?

I do.

Nuria, Amaia...

I do too.

I now declare you
joined in matrimony.

I can't see your parents.

Don't they know?

What? That you're wearing
the suit from our wedding?

No, I didn't dare tell them.

But soon we'll go up to the farm
and tell them together.

What happened to your erotic novel?

I'm working on another now.

In fact, I wanted to call you

to ask about your time
with the Russian mafia.

I know.

You took a vow of silence, right?

Hello.

What did you feel for me then?

I liked how you kissed me twice.

I loved the way you looked at me.

- Nothing else?
- Not then, no.

Then I'm glad I kept trying

and asked you
the first thing that came to me.

What are you going to study?

I have no idea.

I only have a week
to make my mind up.

I'm going to do film studies.

In Alicante.

But there are good schools
in Barcelona.

I don't want to live
with two newlyweds.

Film?

Yes, as I said. Film studies.

Shall we dance?

Anyway...

That autumn,
we went to study film in Alicante.

And to fuck every day.

That changed our lives.

But you insisted on going home
every weekend.

You to Madrid and me to Barcelona.

You know my mother was unwell.

- Was that the reason?
- Don't you remember what she did?

In eight months, not a single
weekend spent together.

Rebeca,

we each have our owns truths
that are hard for the other,

but we agreed to tell them here.

Secret truths, you said.

It was more your idea than mine.

Go ahead, tell me your truths

then I'll tell you mine.

During those weekends in Barcelona,

Amaia told me her latest discoveries
about the Mendozas,

increasingly unpleasant things.

Meanwhile,
you were with two of them.

One was your dad.

Leave my dad out of this, please.

Your dad worked alongside Olmo.

In fact, he was his superior.

They started out money laundering.

Buying hotels,
luxury apartments and houses.

But when Jacinto Mendoza arrived,

they ran more shady business
out of his villa in Denia.

What do you mean shady?

Real criminal activities.

Maybe Marc shouldn't be hearing this.

No, Mum, I want to know.

- Marc, I'm scared.
- I want to know!

- Do they know you're onto them?
- Who's "they"? The Mendozas?

- I don't know.
- This is getting scary.

Sorry,

but I can't believe
my father would kill anyone.

And Olmo?

Both brothers spent a year
at their father's villa in Denia.

That was '92,
the year you and I were born.

V�ctor and Olmo followed
their boss's orders,

like loyal soldiers.

Then oddly,
both left home at the same time

and became independent.

One went into prostitution.

The other started a family.
Yours.

But what was their last job
for their father?

You continue.

Your mother's breakdown.

That night I heard her singing
in the bath.

I liked listening to her.

As her voice faded,
I realised I could only hear it

because she'd left
the bathroom door open.

It was late,
and my dad wasn't back from work.

That was also why she did it.

Mum.

That was the main reason.

Mum.

Mum!

Olmo!

Olmo, my mum is dying!

Mum! Mum!

Olmo!

Help me!

It's OK, Mum. It's OK.

It's OK.

Oh, my God!

You have to wait outside.

The nurse will give you
some clean clothes.

Do you have more tattoos?

What does it mean?

That I'm an eternal wanderer.

I like it.

You don't have a scar.

You can't see my scar,

but you can feel it.

It's right here.

Two life-saving operations
when I was a baby.

V�ctor got there much later,
after my grandparents.

How dare you show up so late?

Look at you!
Don't you dare tell her

you're late
because you were working for me.

You don't even know me.

I know you're a drug addict.

You were like an angel

who appeared in our daughter's life.

Now look at you!

The drugs have made you a devil.

- Made me a devil?
- Yes.

Who are you to talk?

Your morals rotted years ago.

You bastard!

Dad.

Dad!

Please, stop taking that shit.

I'm begging you.

I'm her husband.

I'm leaving.

- I'm coming with you.
- Rebeca.

We'll come and see her tomorrow.

Remember "my biggest truth"?

Remember my biggest truth?

Well, it's got bigger.

I often dream about you,

I can't help it.

What about you?

Well...

We have the whole night to ourselves.

What happened that night?

What happened that night?

I remember that after
your mother's suicide attempt,

you seemed distant.

Cold in bed.

No. It was a difficult time
for my family.

My dad had to change jobs and...

he had to go away at weekends.

My grandparents took Mum
to live with them

and increased her medication.

Good morning! Breakfast!

Thank you, love.

I've got a great plan for Easter.

- Really?
- Yes.

Just you and me, four days alone
at a place in the Pyrenees.

I'll show you
some beautiful villages.

Sound good?

Finally!

After breakfast.

I'm going to shower.

OK.

Rebeca, this is a surprise.

I wanted to wish you a good holiday.

Thanks, it's going to be a long one.

Why's that?

I'm going to live in the Pyrenees.

The Pyrenees? Where exactly?

To a house near Monte Perdido.

Are you going alone?

I'm meeting someone there.

A woman.

An old acquaintance.

Lucky lady.

OK.

You weren't going to say goodbye?

It's better without goodbyes.

You have your life, at your age.
And I have mine.

When are you leaving?

Day after tomorrow.

I'll call you back.

My mother,
she's freaking out again.

She needs me. I'm sorry.

Forgive me.

My poor love. Forgive me.

You make me sick!

"Marc, all I know is that you are

my biggest truth."

Marc.

Marc!

Marc.

All I can say is I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

You don't know how sorry I am.
I love you.

You're sorry?

I don't know what will
happen to us now.

Nothing but truth between us.

Yes, I've finally heard your truth.

But I've stopped believing you.

- And right now I'm done with you.
- No.

No, no! Marc, no!
Please! Marc!

Marc. No.

I stood by you for a year
after your operation.

We've lived together
for two years.

You can't leave me like this.

Why?

Because I chose
to tell you the truth?

A truth which is... old!

- Dead!
- Yes.

And you're alive.

And we have to tell that part
of this story we're writing together.

Please.

The rest of it is staggering.

- You finish it.
- No.

I don't want this fucking story.

It's all yours.

Please, don't leave me like this.

A mile from here,
there's a train to Bilbao.

From there, take a bus to Madrid.

No, no, please. Stay!

Let's write the end together.

Then you can go to Barcelona
and take time to think about us.

Think?

Yes.

It kills me to think
how far you went to betray me.

What happened?

Hello.

Hello.

Come here, Xian.
Give your brother a big kiss.

Did you finish it?

Not right to the end.

Then it's worthless,
like it doesn't exist.

It doesn't exist anymore.

I encouraged you
to go write your stories together.

In my study.

With my tree outside, so it could be
the tree of your great story.

With all of us in it.

To clear up the shadows
in your relationship.

And that was going to hurt.

You have to finish it,
even if apart.

Rebeca, the best thing now
is to do nothing,

don't move or think about anything.

Just let yourself go.

Next week, we'll hold your hand
and put you in the car.

I'll pack your suitcase for you.

We'll all spend the summer in Denia,
at your grandparents' villa.

Give yourself time, Rebeca.

You need a recovery period.

By mid-August,
you'll start feeling human again.

- He might reconsider and come back.
- No!

I know him.

And I saw how he looked at me.

So don't even go there.

The doctor said no smoking.

I'm not inhaling. Look.

Were those your father's cigars?

Yes, and he lived to over 80.

What did he do for work?

Businessman.

Yes, you've told me that before.

But what business?

Trafficking drugs?

People? Guns? Organs?

Money laundering?

Extortion? Beatings?
Contract killings? You know.

I don't know.

Well, I don't like this house.

Then look the other way,
there's the sea.

Hello.

Hello.

I'm composing again.

La Maca is back.

I've finally got something to say,
after 25 years.

That's your entire life.

And it's thanks to her.

We both suffered so much.

Julieta must have known all along.

So she hid inside herself.

Shut every door and window
to the world.

What are you talking about?

Something that happened to us both
the year you were born.

My operation?

If I'd met her then
and she'd told me the truth...

What truth?

She'd have woken up

and I'd have been freed
from that damn kid's voice.

Mum.

What happened with my operation?

This mother will never

speak to her daughter about
what she now shares with Julieta.

But I will sing it to you.

Dark and sad secret

which I cannot say.

Having lost consciousness,

all I can do is sing.

Marc, forgive me
for barging in on you.

I wouldn't do this
if it wasn't important.

My mother says she received
a message from Julieta

about the operation
I had as a baby.

I asked my dad
and he denies it.

But I can tell something's off.

Did you know Rebeca
was operated on after birth?

They told her
that her chest was cut open twice.

They gave her
a multiple organ transplant.

I checked after our accident,
but I didn't tell you.

And who was the donor?

A child, with no name.

A baby boy from a slum
on the outskirts of Madrid,

who one day disappeared.

- Easy as that.
- It was not easy.

First they had to kidnap several kids
and extract their blood

to check the blood group
and antigens,

which had to match Rebeca's.

That's how they chose
the boy they emptied.

Who killed that baby?

Money.
Rebeca's grandfather's money.

Who killed him?

I prefer to leave it there.

- I want you to tell me.
- I don't want to.

After everything we've been through.

I couldn't even bring myself
to finish the novel.

Come on.
Let's go to bed, my love.

Ready to do the ending?

Let's do it.

Who starts?

You.

Right.

After dropping out on you

for our trip away for Easter...

Or, more accurately,

after lying to you

and using my mum's health
as an excuse to go to Madrid...

The truth is
I didn't even see my mum.

I went to my dad's house,
just to see Olmo.

I was so obsessed with him

I didn't even care
that my dad's nerves were shot

and getting worse by the day.

I'd never heard him like that.

I do everything for everybody!
What do you do?

All that coke will kill you!
Get a grip!

- Idiot!
- Asshole!

- Don't ever come back!
- Yeah, yeah.

What are you doing here?

Just drive, please!

Where the fuck are you taking Rebeca?

She got in herself.

No way! You two? No fucking way!

I knew it.
I didn't want to even imagine it.

- Get inside!
- Dad!

I'll explain, but not now.

- I hate seeing you like this.
- Inside!

Dad, no! No!

- V�ctor!
- Dad, no! Please!

- Please, don't!
- You don't know who Olmo is.

- Dad, you're hurting me!
- You have no idea!

Calm down.

Don't fight!

No, no! Stop it!
Stop fighting!

That's enough!

Please!

Dad.

Dad, forgive me for this.

But it's stronger than me.

I need to go with him. I'm sorry.

No!

Drive. Drive.

Do you want to take over?

Since you'd ditched me,

my mum and Amaia
came with me to the Pyrenees.

Marc, should we keep
her Chinese name?

I like the name Xian.

I'd prefer a name from here.

Yes, it might be better.

When are you bringing her?

This summer.

Meanwhile, my grandparents
were also on the road.

They were meeting
my great uncle, the priest,

at a monastery in Huesca.

My mother was so lost,
she went with them.

She was on a lot of meds.

- V�ctor.
- Macarena.

Maca!

My date's been called off.

Called off?

I told her not to come,
that I'm not going.

But you are going, aren't you?

To Monte Perdido.

With me.

After everything
we're leaving behind...

Yes, I'll go with you.

You can take me
to the end of the world.

The Holy Burial advances slowly

accompanied only
by the funeral march.

...and to the members
of the Brotherhood of Triana.

We are all equal! To Heaven!

Hello.

- Are you at home?
- Why?

Go into the maps app.

So you can travel with me
for a while.

I can't right now. I'm...

It's a road in L�rida,

between Alvifar and Cemalles.

Alvifar.

Can you see it?

Yes, I can see it.

The scenery is amazing.

I wish you were here.

Now I can see bulls.

Bulls.

What's going on here?

I don't know.

Come on. Just overtake me.

- Who are they?
- They've been behind us for a while.

They won't leave us alone.

Them and their flashy car.

They look dodgy.

Something's wrong, Rebeca.

The brakes aren't working!

Marc!

Marc!

Marc! Are you OK?

My love.

How are you?

Marc.

Marc!

I'm alive.

Amaia, my love.

- Answer me.
- Amaia.

Amaia, talk to me.

Amaia.

What's wrong with Marc?

What the...?

I was...

There was a...

I was...

There was a...

Marc!

Marc!

Marc!

Marc! Marc!

Marc!

Marc.

Rebeca, I don't remember
you being there.

Yeah, I never told you.

Marc!

Help! Help!

Here! Over here!

Marc!

Marc!

Please, make way.
Don't touch the wounded.

Marc! Talk to me!

Careful. Careful.

No, I want to be with my son.

- My God!
- Marc!

My God.

My God.

Olmo.

Where is Marc?

Marc.

I got her.

Amaia!

Amaia!

It's alright, breathe.

Amaia is alive!

She's alive!

Marc, Amaia is alive!

I'll tell your mother.

Nuria, Nuria.

Amaia is alive.

- Rebeca.
- Yes.

Olmo is Marc's father.

Amaia will be OK.

She only broke her arm.

And Nuria?

She died in the ambulance.

Poor Marc.

Nuria told me you're Marc's father.

Did you know?

No.

Grandpa?

What are you doing here?

An accident. We hit a cow.

I'm sorry.

- There's nothing we can do for him.
- No!

No, don't say that.
There must be something.

He needs a multiple organ transplant.

And he only has a few hours.

Yes, transplants save many lives.

Yours being one of them.

My wife needs a transplant.
I believe a woman has died.

I can pay whatever it takes.

There's nothing we can do for her.

But you can save the boy?

What blood group is Marc?

O negative.

O negative.

I'm going to find him a donor.

How?

Who are you going to find?

I did it once for her.
Grandpa!

Now I'll do it for him.

Rebeca.

I love you more than anything
in the world.

"Yes."

Transplants save many lives.

"Transplants save many lives."

Yours being one of them.

"Yours being one of them."

I did it once for her.

Now I'll do it for him.

The music reflects the sentiment
emanating from the brotherhood,

as it speaks of death,
but also peace.

Hello?

- Is this Olmo Mendoza's father?
- Yes.

Our Lady of Solitude,

although wearing the mourning veil,
looks dazzling.

She walks to the sound of her march.

...as it speaks of death,
but also peace.

Our Lady of Solitude,

although wearing the mourning veil,
looks dazzling.

She walks to the sound of her march.

Rebeca.

You're on the right lines.

With them, think the worst
and you'll be right.

"Think the worst
and you'll be right."

Amaia.

Amaia.

V�ctor and Olmo killed that baby,
didn't they?

Please, tell me.
Which one did it?

Nobody knows who did what.

But yes, between them,
they killed that boy.

So that was the last job
they did for their father?

Yes.

I'm sorry.

I have nothing else

to add to this story.

I'M SORRY, I HAVE NOTHING ELSE
TO ADD TO THIS STORY.

It's number 21,
one of the best villas in Denia.

I'm going.

You're an early bird.

What was tattooed on your shoulder?
An eagle?

I don't even remember.

You covered it
after you met my mother.

I was a fan of La Maca.

Right.

And one day
you just happened to run into her.

I was in my pram.
Just recovering from my operation.

And with just a glance,
you both found what you needed

and started living together.

That's what you always told me.

Was it really by chance?

Were you really a fan of La Maca?

No. I became one.

I started listening to her music,
while I changed your nappies.

And my grandpa?

How did my grandpa allow

you of all people
to live with my mum?

He never knew who did the job.

He paid not to know.

He must have paid a lot,
because no one in the family knew.

Until Julieta...

Your mother told mine.

How could you

live with Mum and me
after what you did?

That boy gave you his life.

I wanted to nurture it,
through you.

Because you felt remorse?

But soon I loved you
like a daughter.

I felt like a father.

Then I fell in love
with your mother.

What I still don't know is who...

which of the two brothers
killed the boy.

I did it.

Well, thank you,

Dad,

for looking after me
since I was a baby.

Hello.

Marc.

Hello.

TO MY MOTHER