🛞 DEATH CURVE (2015): Speed kills fast — but trust kills faster.

“They turned off the highway to save time — but lost track of who they really were.”

One sharp turn. One nameless bend in the middle of nowhere. And five college friends who never made it to where they were headed.

“Death Curve (2015)” is an indie horror film from rising director Caleb Monroe that starts like a typical road trip flick but unravels into a suffocating web of dread, where death isn't the only thing stalking the car — suspicion is riding shotgun.

On the straight road, they were friends. But on the curve — only one survives.
It begins like countless youth trips: five friends, a packed car, music blasting, summer festival ahead. But when their GPS reroutes them onto an unnamed side road that seems to vanish from all maps, the journey twists into something else.

No cell service. No passing cars. Just miles of trees and silence. Then — a sudden curve. The car flips. They wake up disoriented. One of them is gone. No blood. No tracks. Just absence.

Then another disappears. This time, there's a scream. But it could have been imagined — or staged. Because now, they're starting to suspect each other.

This isn't a place where people die. It's where relationships unravel.
Each of them is carrying something they never said:

Harper, seemingly innocent, is hiding a connection to a past crash no one else remembers

Jace, distant and unreadable, may have installed a camera in the car without telling anyone

Nina, always composed, keeps waking up with blood on her hands — and no explanation

Connor, the driver, chose the shortcut... but did he know where it led?

And the last one? No one's sure they were ever really alive to begin with.

“Death Curve” isn’t afraid of blood. It’s afraid of the look in the eyes of the person next to you.
There’s no masked killer. No monster in the woods. Just five people in a broken car and the sinking feeling that trust might be the real weapon. The film uses cramped interiors, off-screen sounds, and headlights cutting through darkness to build a mood that’s not terrifying — it’s quietly, fatally unsettling.

The real darkness doesn’t wait in the forest. It rides in the car with you.

You don’t need to fall off a cliff to die. You just need to trust the wrong person.