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What were you doing

by the cliff edge?

[yelling]

Are you hearing what I'm saying?

[quietly]

Yes.

Then what were you doing?!

Why were you following me?

Crab pots.

Look, this place is...

I think we should leave.

I'm not going anywhere.

You can go if you want.

We can't stay like this.

What are you doing here?

I'm trying to help you.

Why?

Go get cleaned up.

There's no one else here for miles,

except you, me, and my daughter.

Where's Maya?

This is ridiculous. She can't

have gone far, can she?

Cliffs, rocks, you said it yourself,

if when the tide comes in...

Yeah, but she's never

disappeared before, has she?

No. Maya! Maya!

Christ, are you drunk?

Let's just find Maya, okay?

Okay, she hasn't run

off before, though, has she?

What are you getting at?

Well, just that if you're...

How can you have

one eye on her...

I know how to look

after my daughter.

Yes, but after what

happened yesterday...

Maya! The only thing

that's changed is you.

Beth, come on, what are

you not telling me?

Maya!

Why did you come

down here, Maya, why?!

Why?

[exhales]

You can't leave me

like that, Maya. Why?

It's okay.

[music playing softly]

I think we should

go back and bury it.

[dog screaming, neck breaking]

Maya. Maya, what's wrong?

Oh my God. It's okay.

It's just a bad dream,

you're going to be okay.

What's wrong? Is she okay?

She's just having a nightmare.

[heavy breathing]

How often does she

wet the bed?

She doesn't.

[stops breathing heavily]

[screaming]

[man] The good news is we didn't find

anything physically wrong with Maya,

apart from the rather nasty

panic attack and she's calm now.

Due to the severity of the attack,

and your unusual living situation,

I am going to prescribe

some emergency medication

in the event that you

can't get back to us.

Of course, we'll have to wait for the test

to come back to get the complete picture

but as far as we can tell

she's gonna be just fine.

A good night's sleep,

and someone to keep

an eye on her for

a few days should suffice.

You look like that

wouldn't hurt you either.

Maya... doesn't talk.

She hasn't made a sound

since her father died.

She doesn't make a sound when

she laughs or cries either.

I tried everything

to get her to speak.

I've taken her to therapists,

psychologists, hypnotists, nothing.

But last night she screamed at the

top of her lungs, it was deafening.

There's no physical reason

why Maya shouldn't speak

or make any of the noises

on the usual scale.

Sometimes when a child

undergoes trauma at a young age

they can take a little while

feeling comfortable communicating

and I think this is

on that spectrum.

Do you think she'll

start talking now?

Well, there's no overnight cure but,

with patience, most cases catch up.

You should probably inform her

school if they're not already aware.

Children like Maya need a little extra care

and attention to stop them falling behind.

You may want to consider a specialist learning

center if you're willing and able to move.

I'm homeschooling her.

She... doesn't do well

with large groups of people.

Well, she's still very young, and

with the right encouragement,

it may be best for her to endure more

socialization, however daunting.

I'll bring her

through to you now.

Oh, whilst it's not the sound you were hoping

for, it is a start, wouldn't you agree?

I wonder what she's

gonna sound like...

when she starts talking again.

Maybe like you.

Silent.

[laughs]

She had a very pretty voice.

- Yeah?

- Yeah, she used to read out loud all the time.

She had a great vocabulary.

We used to sing together.

I love singing.

I know you do.

You do?

Yeah, I used to hear you humming

from my desk all the time.

[laughs]

That doctor says everything is gonna

be fine. She's gonna be okay.

But you don't think so?

Would you think it was weird

if I stayed to find out?

Don't come in until I tell you.

Maya, stay with Amy.

I'll be back in a moment, okay?

Stay outside.

[heavy breathing]

[gasps]

This is where Christian

grew up, isn't it?

Did you break in here?

What, no,

this was someone else.

Look, what is happening here?

There's no one

in the house now.

I must have...

Let's just forget

about all of this.

This, this, this?

After what he did

and you leave his stuff here

like a f***ing museum?

- It is his house!

- No, he's dead!

And good riddance!

Look, are we safe here?

Maya, it's all right, Maya.

There's nothing to be afraid of,

I checked everything.

There's nothing to worry about,

because, there was nothing.

[grunting]

Beth.

[Beth moans]

Beth.

Maya?

What are you doing

with a knife?

Maya?

Maya.

Give me the knife.

Maya!

[screams] F***!

Oh God! Maya!

Maya!

Maya!

Maya.

[gasps]

[Beth] Maya, come back!

Have you seen someone

in the house?

Someone standing over

your bed at night?

I think I've seen him too.

[piano music]

[birds chirping]

[light chatter]

[man]

This sh*t again, really?

I've finished with her.

She knows that.

Didn't even ask you to leave

the f***ing company

because I figured you'd do it for

me, for Maya, our little girl?

- Christian, I...

- How many chances is too many, Beth?

How many times is enough? 'Cause

I'm starting to lose count.

I'm sorry, okay?

We'll be fine, I promise.

Just give me one more chance.

I planned a surprise for you.

Wanted us to celebrate.

Is it still worth it?

Of course.

C'mon. Show me the surprise.

This is nice.

Thank you.

I'm sorry.

No, you're not.

I mean it.

Please, Christian, just,

forgive me this one last time and I

promise you this will never happen again.

You make it sound

like I have a choice.

You do.

You've always got a choice

and I'm just so grateful that

you're using that choice

to take me back, for Maya.

I've been thinking about this,

you know.

Did you know that you can

predict 87% of

US presidential elections

just based on height alone?

- It's called the halo effect.

- I know what the halo effect is, Christian. Listen...

No. You can predict 87%

of elections because people always

assume that tall people are capable.

They think pretty

people are kind.

They think being good at something

means you'll be good to other people.

We just see something good and think

more goodness will grow from it.

Like good and bad

are just on a scale

and if you're enough steps along the

rest will just take care of itself.

And that's you, Beth.

People convince themselves

that you're special.

That you're so charming

and intelligent

that you have to be somewhere,

deep down, a good person.

And then we want you

to like us...

but you're not.

You're mean and narcissistic

and controlling

and a drunk.

And it's much worse for Maya.

And you're so blinding

for the rest of us.

But for her,

you're her mother.

People waste their whole lives

wanting their parents to love them

and you've already got two

of us completely lost.

There are probably more.

Don't know, I'm guessing.

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