Prologue: A New MO

Samantha Jones and Emily Wilson, both 17, walk through the dark night, up to the door of Emily's house. They get inside, laughing and joking, and plop down on the sofa.

SAMANTHA: Can you believe that shit? That was the worst movie ever.

EMILY: It wasn't even a movie. It was a documentary on those killings that happened eight years ago. It's supposed to look like a movie, but you can totally tell it isn't.

SAMANTHA: Either way, the guy they have playing Nick Carson is freaking gorgeous.

EMILY: Did you know they've got Nick locked up in Wexford Mental Institution? He's been there since the murders.

SAMANTHAT: They didn't kill him?

EMILY: No, that one survivor chick convinced them he's not evil, and all he needs is some good old professional help. (She laughs.) There's no help for freaks like him.

SAMANTHA: Was there only one survivor?

EMILY: Yeah. Whytnee Wyatt. She's freaking messed up in the head, too. She works in that Institution.

SAMANTHA: Are you serious? Why the hell would she want to do that?

EMILY: Because she's as messed up as Nick is. Everyone says she only works there so she can be close to Nick. Some say it's to watch over him, and some say it's so she can implement her freaky therapies that nobody else is willing to do.

(A phone rings.)

SAMANTHA: That's mine. (She picks it up, off the table.) Hello?



SAMANTHA: Who's this?


A friend.

SAMANTHA: You don't sound like a friend.

EMILY: Who is it? ( Samantha shrugs.)


I didn't say I was your friend. I said I was a friend.

SAMANTHA: Alright, then. Whose friend are you? (She looks at Emily and laughs.)


Nick Carson's.

SAMANTHA: That's not even funny, sicko.

EMILY: What did they say?


By the way, say hi to Emily for me, will you Samantha?

SAMANTHA: How the hell do you know our names?


That's not important. I have a question for you.

SAMANTHA: Ask it, then.


Do you have a boyfriend, Samantha?

SAMANTHA: Why do that freaking matter?


I just want to make sure I've got the right guy. (A muffled sound is heard, and then someone else's voice can be heard.) Samantha? (He sounds groggy.)

SAMANTHA: What the hell? Jake! Are you okay?


I think Jake here is a little too drowsy to function correctly. Better for him, though, because he won't feel much. By the way, where'd Emily go?

SAMANTHA: (Looks around to see that Emily is gone.) What the hell do you want from me?


An audience. (The sound of a knife hitting flesh can be heard from the other end, and Samantha gasps when she realizes what must be happening.) I'm getting better at this, you know. Eight years ago, I sucked. Now, I can kill someone with just one flick of my wrist. (They laugh.)

SAMANTHA: (Crying now) why did you kill him? What did I do to you? What did he do to you?


He didn't do a damn thing. I just need some practice dummies. (Suddenly, something crashes through the window in the kitchen. Samantha jumps.) I think you have a delivery.

SAMANTHA: (Walking into the kitchen) Emily! (She runs over to the now broken window that someone had thrown Emily's body through.


YOU'RE NEXT. (And the killer jumps through the window after her, stabbing her in the stomach. He jerks the knife out and kicks Samantha. She falls backwards.) Time to die, bitch. (The knife comes down on Samantha, but she rolls away just in time. The knife slams into the tiled floor, and Samantha takes the chance to run.)

SAMANTHA: You're not getting away with this! I'm calling the cops- (The phone she had in her hand falls from her fingers, clattering to the floor. A second killer steps out of the closet she'd run by, pulling his knife from her chest. She falls to the floor.

Killer #2: You can still save yourself. (Samantha stares at him, breathing heavily.) Answer just one question, and you'll live. I didn't get you too hard. Where is Whytnee Wyatt?

SAMANTHA: How the hell…should I know?

Killer #2: Wrong answer. (He plunges the knife down again.) Even if you'd told me, I would have still killed you. (He stabs her again. Samantha is dead. Her phone starts ringing on the floor beside her, and the scene fades to black. The call goes to voice mail, and the title scrolls across the screen in scary looking letters.