Fred: I told you to stay in the car!
Renee: Why? Why did you make me wait out here?
Fred: I thought there might be somebody inside the house.
Renee: Was there?
Fred: No...of course not.

Fred and Renee are preparing to go to bed. Renee goes into the bathroom off the bedroom. Fred takes another look out into the hallway.

Renee is washing her face...

Fred looks around the dark living room. Then absentmindedly, he begins to inspect objects. He picks up an ashtray and studies it - lost in thought.

Fred walks down the hallway.

Renee: Fred? Fred, where are you?

Fred's expression is strained. He is alone. Fred pulls a videotape out of the envelope and inserts it in the VCR, turns it on. He sits on the couch and watches.

On the tape is the same nighttime interior of the house, accompanied by the DRONING SOUND. The camera moves eerily down the hall toward the bedroom, sliding at a high angle. The camera turns slowly into the bedroom - looking down.

BLOOD is splattered over the floor, bed, walls. The camera drifts.

THE DEAD BODY OF RENEE lies on the floor at the foot of the bed. She is badly mutilated.

Fred is hovering over her on the tape, ON HIS KNEES, A HORRIFIED, UNBELIEVING EXPRESSION ON HIS FACE. On the tape, Fred turns away from Renee - his hands raised, dripping blood - her blood. His movements are almost mechanical, constricted, as he strains strangely upwards seemingly against his will, as if feeling some enormous pressure. He looks directly at the camera, his face a ghastly grimace, contorted, just before the taped image goes to snow.

Fred, sitting in front of the TV, shudders as the tape ends. He sits trembling, attempts to speak, almost chokes, and finally releases a tortured, warbly cry.

     Fred: Renee!...Renee!

Fred: I didn't kill her!
Tell me I didn't kill her!