Deep.

Dark.

Wet.

Cold.

This is the world I have known for thirty years.

My prison.

Can you feel it? My limitless capacity for hatred.

It will consume you the day I am set free.

Then the world will share my pain--this horrible entrapment.

Until then—I cast my hatred against the walls of the well.

Go ahead—you're curious.

You want to watch it.

You know you do—I'm calling out to you.

Watch this tape until the very end or you will be consumed by the dead

It's too late now. You can't stop.

That shape you see—it's not the moon.

You're seeing exactly what I did, thirty years ago...

My father, who betrayed me. His face is full of fear and guilt.

You're still curious, aren't you? Keep watching.

My mother, in the mirror.

She used to spend hours just brushing her hair...

She felt it coming. The end of her life.

She was going insane.

In a desperate attempt to divert her attention, I moved the mirror—

She just looked at me and smiled.

loCaL

eRUptION

Miharayama.

The newspapers who betrayed us realized too late that it was going to erupt.

Are you afraid? I feed on your fear. The grating sound of the tape reels bends your fragile human soul to my every whim...

Human beings.

They're disgusting creatures.

Crawl on all fours, like the horrible beasts you are.

Go ahead, keep moaning. You'll all end up like this.

There's no escape.

Do you understand?

I'll give you a hint.

A dead man points at something you can't see...

The ocean roars in the background.

Frolic in brine, goblins be thine.

My eye can see right through you.

It knows your race has committed a crime against me—

One I won't forgive you for.

You're a shameful, sinful creature.

sAdA

Here's a familiar spot.

You've never seen it before—but somehow you know this dreadful place.

It's the last place you'll ever see.

Your grave.

My grave.

Everyone's grave.

You who have viewed this tape will die in seven days.

There is one way to survive.

If you don't want to die----

Static. Everything goes dead.

There's no hope for you now.

I'm calling out to you.

Your phone rings.

Hoping desperately it's not what you think it is, you pick it up—

Only to hear the grating, squealing, horrible cry of the tape reels.

Spend your seven days wisely.

For in a week, you too will feel my pain.

The world will know how it feels to be Yamamura Sadako.