I Am Not a Serial Killer 2016

The film’s narrative unwinds with a jarring sense of realism as we’re introduced to a quaint small town, its tranquility disrupted by the sudden appearance of an ambulance. The paramedics’ hasty efforts to load their stretcher into the vehicle are met with gruesome consequences: a gory, torn-apart body is revealed, sending shockwaves through the gathered crowd. Amidst this chaos, our protagonist, John Wayne Cleaver (Max Records), pedals into view on his bicycle, his innocent expression a stark contrast to the carnage unfolding around him.

As the police vehicle speeds away from the gruesome scene, John navigates his way through the town’s quiet streets before arriving at his home, which serves as both his residence and the local funeral home. He joins his mother, April (Laura Fraser), and aunt, Margaret (Christina Baldwin), in their somber work, scrubbing up alongside them as they prepare a deceased elderly woman for burial. John’s attempts at humor fall flat as they discuss the recently discovered body, and he’s chastised for making light of the situation.

The atmosphere grows increasingly morbid as Aunt Margaret asks about John’s school life, but he remains tight-lipped, instead sharing his observations about the town’s rapid turnover of residents. His family works in silence as they pump a preserving fluid into the elderly woman’s body, while another tube extracts blood that flows onto the floor, disappearing down a drain hole. John becomes transfixed by this macabre display.

In the privacy of his room, John engages in a peculiar exercise: he speaks aloud to himself, attempting to rehearse social interactions. He introduces himself as John Wayne Cleaver, echoing the question that has been simmering beneath the surface.

John’s curiosity gets the better of him as he returns to the crime scene, searching for clues amidst the chaos. His gaze falls upon a mysterious black puddle, and he can’t resist the urge to touch it, driven by an insatiable desire to understand the unknown.

As John methodically organizes his locker contents, the principal’s office summons him unexpectedly. Principal Layton (James Gaulke) awaits, prompting an inquiry about John’s recent paper on Dennis Rader, the notorious BTK killer. April arrives, and Layton’s words of wisdom are delivered: while it’s natural to be curious about the world and even mortality, there exists a fine line between exploration and obsession. John’s mother probes his thoughts on this topic, only to receive a wry response from her son - a clever critique of the principal’s repetition of the term “normal.”

In the cafeteria, John shares a table with his sole confidant, Max (Raymond Brandstrom), who’s still smarting from a disappointing grade on his essay about Albert Einstein. Max’s lamentation is met with John’s more nuanced understanding: the paper’s shortcomings stem not from a lack of insight into Einstein’s life and work but rather from inadequate length, poor spelling, and editing issues that left much to be desired. Just as their conversation gains momentum, a group of bullies converges on the duo. Led by Rob Anders (Vincent Russo), they subject John to an affronting sniff test, claiming he smells something “dead.” Beneath the table, John’s fingers flexively scratch his fork, his mind racing with the urge to exact retribution. Instead, he flashes a disarming smile at Rob, who responds by splattering mashed potatoes on John’s face and branding him a freak before departing with his cohorts.

As John wipes away the offending substance, Max inquires about John’s paper once more. This time, John reveals that his assignment was actually about the BTK killer. The memory of this topic sparks a recollection in Max - one that sends shivers down his spine. “Those pictures gave me a therapist,” he admits, referencing the traumatic experience of having viewed John’s report on Jeffery Dahmer from the previous year. John’s response is characteristically blunt: “Nightmares are nothing, man; those pictures sent me to therapy.”

As the school day draws to a close, John lingers on the sidewalk, awaiting the arrival of his therapist, Dr. Neblin (Karl Geary). The car’s tires screech as it pulls up, and John slides into the passenger seat, accompanied by the gentle hum of conversation. As they make their way to a serene lake-side setting, John opens up about a recent transgression, confessing that he has broken one of his self-imposed rules. With an air of curiosity, Dr. Neblin listens attentively as John inquires about the McDonald triad - a trifecta of psychopathic tendencies comprising bedwetting, pyromania, and animal cruelty. As they delve deeper into this dark territory, Neblin notes that John has indeed exhibited all three characteristics, but it’s essential to remember that these traits are mere predictions, not set in stone realities.

John reveals that he has developed a coping mechanism to manage his impulses: when the urge to harm or kill arises, he forces himself to smile and offer a genuine compliment. Dr. Neblin acknowledges that while John may possess several risk factors indicative of serial killer behavior, it’s crucial to recognize that he is actively controlling his actions and charting his own destiny. In essence, John has chosen not to surrender to his impulses, making him a fundamentally decent individual.

Later, as the sun dips below the horizon, John finds himself at his neighbor’s residence, tending to the flames in their fire pit. Mr. Crowley (Christopher Lloyd), a friendly and eccentric neighbor, seeks assistance with his smartphone, hoping to share a photo with his wife. As John tends to the fire, his gaze drifts towards the window of a neighboring house, where he spots Brooke (Lucile Lawton) dancing to the rhythm of music in her room.

That night, as the stars begin to twinkle in the sky, John finds himself standing outside Brooke’s residence, watching as she and her family enjoy dinner together.

As John returns home, he encounters his older sister Lauren (Anna Sundberg), who exchanges brief pleasantries with him before departing for the evening. However, their conversation takes a somber turn when John discovers that they have received the remains of Jeb Jolley, the individual found deceased in an alleyway. April approaches John, sharing Dr. Neblin’s revelation that Jeb had confessed to having contemplated taking lives. John dismisses this notion as grossly misinterpreted, explaining that Jeb actually stated he adhered to a set of rules to avoid harming anyone. John expresses his hope that his mother would be relieved knowing he avoids serious trouble by following these guidelines.

April counters, expressing her true concerns – not having a son who must abide by such rules and being diagnosed as a sociopath. The conversation ends with April remarking, “He actually said that? That’s kind of cool.” This candid exchange sets the stage for the trio’s collaborative effort to prepare Jeb’s remains, which proves a daunting task due to their gruesome state.

As they work together, Margaret scrutinizes the organs and notes the absence of one kidney. John suggests that the killer may have taken it, but April dismisses this notion. However, upon re-examining the paperwork, Margaret confirms that there was only one recovered kidney, with no record of surgical removal. This discovery sparks a renewed sense of unease.

The following morning, John and April watch the news together, where another brutal killing is reported. The crime scene yields black sludge, piquing John’s curiosity further. In the aftermath, John and his friend Max dedicate their lunch break to profiling the killer. They analyze the savage nature of the attack, noting that it was more extreme than necessary, and that both killings occurred at night. As they arrive at the second crime scene, John shares Ted Bundy’s infamous quote: “After you killed someone, if you had enough time afterwards, they could become whatever you wanted them to be.” Max reacts with a sigh, remarking, “John is weird.”

As the moon casts its pale glow on Halloween night, Max (character) and his friend John venture forth into the darkness, their trick-or-treat bags at the ready. Accompanied by John’s father, who brandishes a baseball bat as a nervous shield against the unknown, they make their way from house to house, collecting candy and cautionary tales. At one particularly eerie residence, they meet the enigmatic Mr. Crowley and his wife Kay (Dee Noah), who warn them of potential dangers lurking in the shadows.

Later that evening, John and Max attend a dance, where the atmosphere is alive with music and mirth. It’s here that John encounters Brooke, who approaches him with an air of curiosity. When she asks if he’s Pennywise, John firmly denies it, attempting to strike up a conversation only to be abruptly interrupted by Rob. The latter’s taunts are laced with venomous intent, as he labels John a “freak” and advises him to return home to his mother, an undertaking business owner. But John remains unflappable, offering Rob a backhanded compliment on his costume before delivering a cryptic monologue.

“I’ve been clinically diagnosed with sociopathy, Rob,” John reveals, his voice dripping with an unsettling calm. “To me, you are an object, something to be studied and evaluated. You’re as exciting as a cardboard box – utterly unremarkable on the surface, but perhaps holding secrets within. When you speak, I find myself pondering what lies beneath your mundane exterior.” John’s words hang in the air like a challenge, and Rob, sensing the darkness lurking behind them, shoves John in revulsion before fleeing the dance.

As the music continues to pulse through the room, Brooke approaches John, having witnessed the entire exchange. With a gentle touch on his arm, she reassures him that he is not a freak, but rather a complex individual worthy of understanding and compassion.

As John returns to the funeral home, he’s met with a disquieting sight: his mother engaged in conversation with an unknown group of individuals. His curiosity piqued, John descends to the laboratory, where he’s drawn to the latest cadaver and its peculiar claw-like wound. With an intensity born of desperation, John examines each organ, searching for any sign of deficiency or irregularity. April and Margaret burst into the lab, their faces etched with shock and dismay, demanding to know what John was doing in such a manner. His explanation falls on deaf ears, as April orders him to leave, her tone heavy with revulsion at his treatment of the deceased. As he departs, April’s parting words are laced with menace: the lab door will henceforth be locked.

Dr. Neblin approaches John, his expression grave with concern, and reveals that he’s become aware of John’s threatening behavior towards Rob, an episode that has left the doctor plagued by nightmares. John defends Rob as a bully, but Neblin presses on, seeking insight into the events unfolding in the lab. John confesses that these gruesome killings should not be occurring in his hometown; such horrors are typically relegated to distant locales. Neblin probes further, asking about the incident preceding Rob’s arrival. John recounts a chance encounter with a young woman, and Neblin’s curiosity is piqued, asking if she was particularly charming.

As they converse, Neblin’s attention turns to the natural world, his eyes fixed on a rare duck species via binoculars. John’s gaze follows, and he’s struck by the sudden appearance of a mysterious figure, a presence that has been lurking in the shadows throughout town. This enigmatic individual becomes the object of John’s fixation, as he begins to stalk him through the streets.

Their pursuit leads John to a pivotal moment: he witnesses Mr. Crowley offering the stranger a ride to indulge in ice fishing. As they depart, John follows, taking up position behind a tree line. The stranger uses a chainsaw to carve a hole in the frozen lake’s surface. Just as he sets down the tool, Mr. Crowley doubles over, wracked by a violent coughing fit. The stranger seizes a knife, intent on killing his host. But Mr. Crowley’s arm transforms into a grotesque mass, which propels itself through the man’s chest, ending his life. “You tried to kill me,” Mr. Crowley says, plucking up the knife. “I brought you a hat.” John watches in frozen terror as Mr. Crowley extracts several organs from the corpse, including lungs, and absorbs them into his own body, regaining the ability to breathe.

As John’s horror gives way to confusion, he realizes that he has soiled himself with fear, his pants soaked with the weight of what he’s just witnessed. The tableau before him is a surreal nightmare: Mr. Crowley, now rejuvenated, stands amidst the carnage, an unsettling aura surrounding him like a dark halo.

As John’s lifeless body lay motionless on the morgue table, Margaret’s stern words pierced the air like a wake-up call. She implored him to snap out of his catatonic trance and help his beleaguered mother cope with the turmoil surrounding their family. The weight of Lauren’s absence from Thanksgiving and April’s distressing reaction to John’s latest mishap was taking its toll on Margaret, who pleaded with her son to pretend a sense of normalcy for just a few hours. With a heavy heart, she reminded him that his mere presence could be a beacon of hope for their mother.

As John’s eyes slowly refocused, he found himself amidst the familiar rhythms of domesticity. His mother, busily preparing the turkey, was a picture of serenity, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. The image of Mr. Crowley, his gruesome procedure still etched in his mind like an indelible scar, seemed to sear itself into John’s consciousness.

Meanwhile, April approached John with an innocent request: borrowing some vanilla from the Watsons. As he headed over to Brooke’s family home, John was struck by her radiant smile, a warmth that seemed to thaw the frost of his frozen heart. Back at his own residence, however, reality bit hard as he learned that a long-lost individual, presumed deceased for over four decades, had been linked to the recent murders through the presence of a peculiar black sludge.

The next day found John knocking on the Crowley’s door with an offer to shovel their driveway. As he labored in the crisp winter air, Mr. Crowley emerged with a steaming cup of coffee, his words dripping with an unsettling sense of fatalism: “Oh, it’s a beautiful day, John. Makes you glad to be alive.” The ominous tone hung heavy in the air as Kay welcomed him with a warm cup of hot chocolate.

John retreated to his room, where he began to catalog the gruesome details of the murders: the names of the victims and the corresponding body parts that had been taken. His mind reeled with the question of what horrors lay in store for their next victim. Suddenly, the sound of a car engine caught his attention – Mr. Crowley was headed out, accompanied by Kay.

As John followed them to a local Rec Hall/Diner, he found himself surrounded by couples dancing to the tune of a lively band. The atmosphere was electric, but John’s mood remained somber. When Mr. Crowley, wracked with pain, reluctantly ceased his dance, John’s gaze shifted to the television, where a report confirmed what he had long suspected: the long-lost individual had been conclusively linked to the recent murders.

In the midst of this chaos, Greg Olson, an old friend of the Crowleys’, approached John with a request to continue dancing with Kay. As John watched the two glide across the floor with ease, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were performing for an audience of one – Mr. Crowley’s watchful eyes seemed to hold a sinister intent, as if waiting for the next act in this gruesome dance to unfold.

As the evening unfolds, John finds himself trailing behind the Crowleys to a Chinese buffet, where he observes them with a mix of curiosity and detachment. His attention is suddenly diverted by his mother’s voice, calling out to him across the crowded room. April’s arrival on the scene with Dr. Neblin in tow prompts John to realize that his mother has unwittingly stumbled into a dinner date with her son’s doctor. With an air of bemusement, John accompanies his mother and Dr. Neblin, who mistakenly assumes John was following her due to concerns about her well-being in light of the recent killings plaguing their town.

As they drive away from the restaurant, John broaches the topic of his mother dating his doctor, pointing out the potential ethical implications. April dismisses any romantic involvement, revealing that she and Dr. Neblin merely meet to discuss his progress as John’s doctor, without any ulterior motives. Meanwhile, Dr. Neblin offers words of encouragement, praising John for making good progress despite his mother’s worries about him following her due to fears for her safety.

At the library, John becomes immersed in a project, surrounded by a cacophony of music and books on serial killers, witchcraft, and the occult. Brooke’s attempt to approach him is met with silence, as she has to scream to get his attention. John’s casual greeting notwithstanding, Brooke notices the array of dark literature surrounding him and asks if he needs assistance. John politely declines, sending her on her way without seeming to register her interest in him or his fascination with the macabre.

As John doggedly pursues the enigmatic Mr. Crowley (played by actor), he tracks him to a humble barbershop where the barber, Greg, is none other than the man granted the privilege of dancing with Kay the night before. When Greg ventures out to acquire new scissors, Mr. Crowley swiftly seals off the shop, plunging it into darkness and secrecy. The air is thick with tension as he slips away to commit a gruesome murder, only for John to intervene by triggering an alarm that summons the local authorities. As the police arrive, Mr. Crowley is forced to reveal his true nature, dispatching one officer with his grotesque morphed monster hand and then claiming another victim. The cacophony of screams and the stench of death hang heavy in the air as John bears witness to the carnage, his conscience tormented by the realization that he has inadvertently precipitated a double tragedy.

The scene shifts as John receives a call from Kay, assuring her that he will procure the necessary items from the grocery store, while simultaneously conveying his love. Meanwhile, Mr. Crowley is seen fleeing the scene, hauling the lifeless body of Greg into the trunk of his car and disappearing into the night. Back at the barbershop, John discovers a gruesome tableau of black sludge and the two officers who have met their untimely demise.

The news soon spreads like wildfire, with a mob gathering outside Greg’s residence, convinced that he is responsible for the cop killings. John watches impassively, his understanding of Mr. Crowley’s nature and motivations tragically obscured by the veil of mystery surrounding this eldritch being. As the sun dips below the horizon, John finds himself drawn to the porch of Greg’s home, mesmerized by the macabre waltz unfolding within.

The next day, John trails Mr. Crowley to a gym, where he observes him pedaling away on an exercise bike with an air of mechanical efficiency. That night, John leaves a cryptic note on Mr. Crowley’s vehicle, forewarning him of the impending revelation. The following morning, Mr. Crowley awakens to find the note, his countenance betraying a mixture of trepidation and alarm. As he walks away from the scene, John can’t help but indulge in a knowing smile, hinting at the approaching reckoning that will soon ensnare the enigmatic Mr. Crowley.

As the eerie atmosphere of dread still lingered in the air, a neighborhood meeting was convened to galvanize the locals against the backdrop of gruesome murders. Amidst this somber gathering, Kay confided in April about her husband’s alarming state: his prolonged absence from the house, an unsettling silence that seemed to suffocate him. John’s inquiry into the matter only served to heighten the sense of unease, as Kay revealed that her spouse had become increasingly withdrawn, trapped in a prison of fear that he couldn’t escape. With a solemn plea, she implored John to pay Mr. Crowley a visit, hoping his friend might be able to shake off the malevolent forces that seemed to be suffocating him.

As John approached Mr. Crowley’s abode, Brooke’s affable nature momentarily distracted him from the ominous presence that lurked within. But as he entered the Crowley home, the weight of Mr. Crowley’s unsettling recitations of William Blake’s poetry bore down upon him like a physical force, sending shivers down his spine.

In the days that followed, John’s introspection led to a montage of moments: piano melodies echoing through the silence, Mr. Crowley’s unnerving presence lingering in his mind, and the haunting visualizations from his journal coming to life – all set against the eerie backdrop of a small town beset by fear. In his private reverie, John rehearsed conversations with Mr. Crowley, only to be snapped back into reality by the stark contrast between the world he knew and the monstrous visage that lurked beneath the surface.

A visit to Dr. Neblin provided a glimpse into the collective psyche of the townspeople: everyone cowered in fear, except for John, who seemed impervious to the creeping dread. Fear, as he astutely observed, was a curious thing – people feared certain outcomes, yet rarely feared taking action themselves. To illustrate this point, he conjured an image of a woman poised on the edge of the road, her fears palpable, yet ultimately, she crossed with confidence. The only hitch: in John’s mind’s eye, she became a casualty of the very fear that had driven her to take the step – a poignant reminder that the line between reality and perception was perilously thin.

As John returned to the Crowleys’ home, he found himself entangled in their domestic struggles. Mr. Crowley’s physical decline only added to his isolation, as Kay struggled to maintain her husband’s dignity despite his crippling limitations. With a heavy heart, John lent a helping hand, buoying Mr. Crowley up the stairs and assisting him with the most basic of bodily functions – a stark reminder that even in the darkest moments, compassion and empathy could be the greatest solace of all.

As the festive atmosphere of Christmas settles over the household, a surprise twist throws the evening into disarray. Lauren’s unanticipated arrival at the dinner table has April scrambling to adjust the seating arrangements. Margaret, ever the peacekeeper, takes credit for having talked some sense into her wayward daughter, citing recent heartbreak as the catalyst for Lauren’s change of heart. As John descends to fetch an extra chair, Lauren saunters in, her demeanor a stark contrast to the warmth and camaraderie that normally fills the room.

At the dinner table, Lauren’s sullen silence is met with April’s attempts at conversation, but it’s clear that the strained atmosphere is more than just a product of the holiday blues. John, sensing tension, takes his leave, retreating to the solitude of his bedroom where he watches as Kay and Mr. Crowley make their exit from the premises. The latter, wrapping himself in a blanket, becomes a poignant silhouette on the porch, his anguished cry piercing the night air like a plaintive lament.

As the evening’s gift-giving ritual commences, John’s thoughtful gestures towards his family are met with varying reactions. His mother, sister, and aunt receive bottles of soap, while John himself is presented with a Panda ski mask that seems more novelty than necessity. In a jarring juxtaposition, Lauren and John receive gifts from their estranged father – a gesture that only serves to further complicate the already strained dynamics at play.

John’s supposed MP3 player, loaded with songs that once brought his family joy, is revealed to be nothing more than an empty box, its digital contents as nonexistent as his father’s claims. Lauren’s gift, a DVD of a children’s show they allegedly watched together, only serves to underscore the disconnection between her and their father. As April apologizes for her ex-husband’s shortcomings, John’s anger boils over, prompting him to make a dramatic exit from the house, leaving the evening’s fragile peace in shambles.

As John donned his panda ski mask, he embarked on a nocturnal stroll, the darkness serving as a perfect backdrop for his introspective thoughts. Later that night, he seized a pay phone and dialed Mr. Crowley’s number, delivering the message he had been tasked to convey. The recipient hung up abruptly, prompting John to redial. This time, when Mr. Crowley answered, John’s inquisitive nature got the better of him, and he posed questions about his mysterious adversary’s modus operandi. Specifically, he inquired why certain individuals met their demise at the hands of Mr. Crowley, while others were spared. The enigmatic figure revealed that every “acquisition” left him wracked with pain, a sentiment John couldn’t help but find intriguing.

As the conversation continued, John’s curiosity got the better of him, and he asked about Emmett, the man who had vanished decades prior. Mr. Crowley’s response was chilling: he had taken away Emmett’s life, a life that would have been filled with love, marriage, and children. The sociopath confessed to having claimed numerous lives, his tally far exceeding anything John could possibly comprehend.

Suddenly, John detected an unusual noise in the distance. He realized that Mr. Crowley must be tracking him down, having deduced the location of the mysterious caller. As he hung up the phone, John made a hasty exit, only to find himself pursued by the relentless Mr. Crowley through a dimly lit alleyway.

John managed to evade his pursuer and sought refuge at Max’s abode, where he found solace in the familiar surroundings. However, upon glancing out into the night, he was dismayed to discover that Mr. Crowley had tracked him down once again. Max greeted John warmly, only to be met with a half-truth: John claimed to have arrived at his doorstep because he was struggling to maintain his grip on reality, having broken his own rules. Max’s expression turned incredulous as John explained that these rules were designed to keep him out of trouble and everyone else safe from the devastating consequences of his sociopathic tendencies.

One of these self-imposed rules involved spending time with Max, engaging in mundane activities that brought John a sense of normalcy. However, this rationalization was met with disdain by Max, who had been using their friendship as a means to help John feel more grounded for three years. Feeling exploited, Max promptly showed John the door, his words stinging: “You use me as a tool to feel normal.” As John departed into the night, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was indeed the truth.

As John departs, he catches sight of Mr. Crowley’s vehicle lingering in the shadows, its engine purring ominously. Just a short distance away, a behemoth of a truck idles, its massive grille seemingly oblivious to the gruesome scene unfolding before it. And there, in all its brutality, is Max’s father being viciously attacked and slaughtered by none other than Mr. Crowley himself. John attempts to intervene, but his efforts are met with a snarl from the merciless assailant, as if warning him of an excruciating demise should he dare interfere. Realizing the futility of his actions, John turns away, leaving Max’s father to suffer at the hands of the merciless Mr. Crowley.

The following evening, a somber memorial is held in honor of Max’s father. As John watches from afar, he can’t help but notice Max exchanging nods with two other individuals. His gaze also falls upon Kay and Mr. Crowley approaching Max to offer their condolences, and for an instant, John’s fury threatens to boil over once more. It takes his mother’s gentle intervention to prevent him from rushing at Mr. Crowley.

The conversation that follows is a painful one. April reaches out to her son, urging him to open up about his emotions. But John has reached a breaking point, and his words are laced with venom: “What don’t you get? I don’t feel anything. Okay, I don’t give a damn that Max’s dad is dead. And I don’t care if you’re next!” April’s apology falls on deaf ears as John’s anguish boils over, and he brandishes a butcher knife in a desperate bid for control. The tension is palpable as the seconds tick by, but eventually, John regains his composure, dropping the blade with a mixture of shame and relief.

The morning after this explosive confrontation, April seeks to make amends through the closed door of her son’s room. She acknowledges that despite their shared struggles, they are still a family – albeit one that has been forever changed by the events of the past fortnight.

John subsequently visits Dr. Neblin, seeking guidance on why someone would stay in a toxic situation. The doctor’s wisdom cuts to the heart of the matter: what is the cost of leaving, and which emotional bonds will be shattered? As John contemplates this existential question, he begins to grasp the driving force behind Mr. Crowley’s actions – a twisted devotion to his wife Kay that has warped his very soul.

As John navigates the dimly lit pawn shop, his eyes are drawn to a sleek GPS tracker system boasting a range of approximately 2-3 miles. With a sense of purpose, he parts with his father’s thoughtful MP3 player gift, leveraging its value to secure the device. The transaction complete, John sets his sights on the Crowley residences, where he discreetly deploys the tracker under the guise of assisting Kay with her daily errands. His curiosity piqued, he learns that Mr. Crowley’s health is beginning to falter, his heart struggling against the tide of time.

As the cover of night descends, John finds himself parked outside the Crowley home, patiently waiting for the tracker to yield its secrets. The hours tick by like grains of sand in an hourglass as he dozes off, only to be roused at 5 a.m. by the sound of Mr. Crowley’s car stirring to life. With his heart racing, John seizes the opportunity to don his mask and slip into the residence unnoticed. He captures a snapshot of Kay with her phone, seemingly innocent, but in reality, a calculated move designed to send a chilling message to Mr. Crowley.

As the first light of dawn creeps over the horizon, John finds himself face-to-face with Kay, her sleepy demeanor shattered by his sudden presence. His initial attempts to calm her are met with resistance, and in a moment of primal panic, he seizes the clock and strikes Kay with its weighty force. As she slumps into stillness, a crimson pool forming on the pillow sheet beneath her head, John is struck by the gravity of his actions, his mind reeling with the realization that he may have taken a life.

His thoughts a jumble of despair and desperation, John seeks out Dr. Neblin’s counsel, confessing his darkest fears to the psychologist. Dr. Neblin’s soothing words offer a glimmer of hope, but John’s resolve is tempered by the harsh reality of his actions. He hangs up on the doctor, his mind racing with the weight of what he has done.

As he checks on Kay’s condition, finding her alive but battered, John’s gaze turns to the tracker, his thoughts consumed by a twisted sense of revenge. With calculated precision, he captures several images and sends them to Mr. Crowley, accompanied by a chilling caption: “My turn.” The game is afoot, and John’s mask is securely in place.

As John hastens downstairs, Mr. Crowley bursts in, his visage gradually contorting into the monstrous form that would soon consume him whole. Fleeing to a nearby closet, John witnesses Mr. Crowley’s frenzied ascent, driven by an unrelenting quest for vengeance against the party responsible for harming his wife. With his adrenaline-fueled escape from the house, John discovers and disables the tracking device on their vehicle, only to be startled by a morbid discovery in the backseat - the lifeless body of Dr. Neblin. John’s response is swift and deliberate; he conceals the corpse in the woods, refusing to grant Mr. Crowley the satisfaction of claiming it as his own.

As John returns home, he becomes aware of Mr. Crowley’s enraged reaction upon finding the missing body. His gaze, once cold and calculating, now burns with a fierce intensity, fixating on John with an air of suspicion. Undeterred by this menacing stare, John maintains his composure, ultimately walking away as Mr. Crowley continues to surveil him.

The following day dawns, bringing with it the somber occasion of Max’s father’s funeral service. Among those paying their respects is Brooke, who envelops John in a warm hug. As the ceremony proceeds, Mr. Crowley slips in, taking his seat beside John. His eyes, however, betray a deeper understanding - he knows that John had attacked Kay. John, meanwhile, counters with an accusation of his own: Mr. Crowley had brutally murdered their therapist. The monster’s sigh is heavy with resignation, as if the revelation explained the mysterious nocturnal visits to their homes.

Mr. Crowley’s grip on John’s arms tightens, his voice low and menacing as he inquires about the whereabouts of Dr. Neblin’s lifeless form. John, unfazed by the threat, asks how much time remains before Mr. Crowley exacts his gruesome revenge. The monster’s response is chilling: long enough to find another, a veiled warning that John will be his next target. Undaunted, John asserts that he will not fall prey to Mr. Crowley’s brutality in the midst of this somber gathering.

As the funeral service concludes and the attendees disperse, Mr. Crowley lingers, his health visibly deteriorating as he coughs up blood. In a moment of quiet desperation, John appears to trap him within the room by barricading the door with a chair. Later, as John prepares to leave, he is startled by an unexpected revelation from his sister: their mother is upstairs.

Trembling with fear, John hastens to investigate, finding evidence of his mother’s presence in the form of a shattered coffee cup. His trepidation intensifies as he descends to the morgue lab and discovers April lying on the autopsy table, Mr. Crowley seated nearby, his arm poised ominously close to her face. The monster’s voice is low and menacing as he demands to know where John has concealed Dr. Neblin’s lifeless form.

John’s response is a turning point in his understanding: “It’s him, not it.” This fleeting moment of clarity underscores the value of human life, a lesson that will prove crucial in the face of Mr. Crowley’s relentless pursuit.

As Mr. Crowley’s menacing gaze falls upon April, his words take on a sinister tone as he demands possession of any heart - including hers. His threat is palpable, and John’s attempts to deflect the conversation by asking about Kay only serve to fuel the tension. “Why do you think I’ve stayed human all these years?” Mr. Crowley inquires, his eyes piercing through the air like daggers. The question sends a shiver down John’s spine, and he finds himself compelled to ask if Mr. Crowley loves Kay. But before the truth can be revealed, Crowley’s inquiry takes an even darker turn as he probes John’s emotions, asking if he would hesitate to take April’s life after all that has transpired. Meanwhile, April’s unconscious state begins to give way to a slow and agonizing recovery.

As John and Mr. Crowley engage in a macabre dance of words, the atmosphere becomes increasingly charged with foreboding. The air is thick with unspoken menace as Crowley probes John’s deepest fears, asking if he loves his mother and if he would spare April from harm. It is then that John seizes an opportunity to strike back, knocking Mr. Crowley to the ground with a metal bar. As April regains her bearings, she finds herself face to face with the monstrous visage of Crowley’s true form - a grotesque reminder of the terror that lies at the heart of their predicament.

In a desperate bid to preserve his own life, John and April strap Mr. Crowley to an operating table, preparing him for preservation as they would a corpse. The procedure is a gruesome parody of medical science, with tubing hooked up to pump preserving chemicals into Crowley’s body while simultaneously draining out his black sludge blood. As the pink fluids course through his veins, Mr. Crowley awakens, his screams of agony piercing the air as he pleads for mercy.

As John looks on in horror, Mr. Crowley’s body begins to decay at an alarming rate, his human shell disintegrating into a morass of black sludge. In his final moments, Crowley reveals his true nature - a monstrous being driven by a desire to die. With a tired and weary acceptance of his fate, he begs John to look after Kay and takes the suction knife in hand. As the needle glints in the light, Mr. Crowley recites lines from a William Blake poem, his voice growing weaker as he implores John to honor his final wish.

The next day, the police find Dr. Neblin, their discovery no doubt prompted by John’s tip-off. The news also carries a report of local resident Bill Crowley’s sudden and inexplicable disappearance - a stark reminder that some secrets are best left unspoken.

As John sits with Kay, he probes her about Mr. Crowley’s enigmatic nature, prompting a nostalgic recounting of her fortuitous encounter with Bill in their thirties. A time when being unmarried was viewed as an anomaly, Kay and Bill embarked on a whirlwind romance that culminated in a fateful evening where she introduced him to her extended family. But amidst the warmth and camaraderie, Bill slipped away, his emotions overflowing like a dam broken. In the kitchen, he confessed to Kay that he had only just begun to grasp the profound significance of family and love, and with tear-stained eyes, declared his devotion to her as unyielding as the heavens or hell itself. Kay recalls Bill’s poetic declarations with a fond smile, impressed by the depth of his romantic sentiment.

In stark contrast, John finds himself in the somber atmosphere of the morgue, where April and Margaret prepare Dr. Neblin for his final rest. As they work, April suggests seeking professional guidance to cope with their loss, but John demurs, sensing that speaking to another therapist would be a betrayal of the late doctor’s memory. Instead, he chooses to honor Neblin’s legacy by recalling the doctor’s own irreverent humor, eliciting groans from his mother and aunt as they remind him to attend to the preserving pump, their minds still reeling from the emotional turmoil of their loss.