#nex didn’t commit suicide they were murdered.

[birthofvcnus]

[delicately-balancing]

My Abuser

Something was missing in my life. I had thought about it over and over. The years of abuse by the woman that was supposed to be a mother to me, the stepmother I never dared call my stepmother, were over. But yet I felt I deserved reprimand, deserved the beatings I had become so accustomed to, the mental and psychological abuse. Every time I did something wrong, made a mistake, got a bad grade, didn’t do something I knew I should I waited for the repercussions that never came. Consciously I didn’t realize he would fill that space that was missing. At least not right away, maybe not until I really tried to understand why I allowed it to happen, why I couldn’t leave him, why I made excuses over and over for the pain he caused me.  But eventually it became clear. As much as I hated the abuse, wished I could get away from it, I missed it. I craved it. It was routine and that routine had been broken and when he came along, I felt normal again. At least normal for a girl like me. 

I remember the night I met him. A group of us that took music lessons were forming a band together. He had been asked to play bass. I didn’t know him or recognize him. I had just moved to town and only knew a few people. He had this look about him. This darkness and softness at the same time. He was a mystery and I needed to know more. His talent was undeniable. I was told he was self taught. He had never had lessons. I had an immediate attraction to him, to the darkness, to the artistry. He was quiet, but we spoke briefly. I looked forward to practice when I could see him again. Eventually we started dating. He was so passionate about things, music, writing. He was philosophical. He was like no one I had ever met. He loved things that I loved, that most people never appreciated. I don’t remember the first time he hurt me. But the jealousy reared it’s head early. Little things would set him off. Someone would look at me the wrong way. He thought I was too flirtatious. He would ask me about past boyfriends and then get infuriated about it. I had wallet size pictures of friends, guys and girls. He couldn’t handle it. He took the pictures of the guys, ripped them to pieces and urinated on them. A part of me liked his jealousy. It made me feel like I was special. Like I was worth being jealous over. Even when I fought against it, a part of me wanted it. 

He was brooding and I could tell when the anger was coming. But he was pained, like a wounded animal at times. He had been hurt, damaged. Most of our fights would be about jealousy or about controlling me when I didn’t do what he wanted. He didn’t want me to wear makeup. He criticized my clothes. He wanted me covered up, nothing too tight. I couldn’t talk to anyone without him questioning my motives. In many ways, he was like my stepmother. Her abuse often centered around me and this idea she crammed into my head that I would grow up to be a whore like my mother. He took over where she left off in that area. His brothers would hear us fighting and do nothing. Everyone in the house knew. There was one time, he drug me down the stairs by my hair, pieces ripping out, my body thudding on the wooden stairs. His brother saw, but turned away silent. I always fought back, but it rarely did any good. His anger was white hot. He became another person. Like my stepmother, he hit me in places no one would see. Usually my abdomen, my stomach, my back. He would kick me, punch me, hit the upper parts of my legs. He would grab me by my hair and toss me like a rag doll. And afterwards, he would often cry and hold me, apologize for hurting me. And sometimes, he would force himself onto me. I didn’t want to accuse him of raping me, but that is what it was. It was not consensual and the tears would often stream down my face while he got off. I don’t know why he would do it, maybe to release some tension that hitting me could not, maybe to prove to me that I was his. His pain made me feel guilt for causing him to be angry. I blamed myself, I blamed his past. I wanted to fix him, to make him feel better. He confided in me that his stepmother had molested him. She was still married to his father and lived in the house and I was sick when I looked at her. When he would hurt me, I would think of her and detest her. I blamed her for him being this way, for hurting me to release the pain and anger he felt at her. For forcing himself on me to make up for her forcing herself onto him. 

I told myself that I loved him. I believed that I loved him. We both had this darkness and mine was much stronger then. I wanted to save him, to save us. I waited for him to leave for college. I stayed behind and worked for a year. He played football. He was a linebacker and I think most of the other players were scared of him. One night I made cookies for all the football players, him and his team, for their bus ride home. My generosity was a mistake. He didn’t like me doing anything for anyone else. He threw the cookies in my face and embarrassed me in front of everyone. Like his brothers, no one dared say anything. They were terrified of him. And I blamed myself. I should have known he would be jealous. I deserved it. I should have just made them for him only I thought. I would be better next time, think first before I did something to hurt him. We found a college to go to together. I was looking for a school that had a strong journalism and theater department. He was an award winning linebacker but at 5″8 it didn’t matter what his stats were, the major colleges weren’t interested. He had hoped to get a chance and prove his ability at a Junior College and TJC was a strong program that many athletes would go to if they couldn’t get into a 4 year school for sports immediately. But his attempt to get on the team proved futile and he took it out on me. College was a disaster for us. I lived on campus and he didn’t. We didn’t share classes together. He was constantly jealous, accusing me of cheating. He didn’t like to see me making friends. I had lost all my friends back in Uvalde. They couldn’t stand seeing me abused and I refused to admit it. But in college, I was finding my place and he felt he was losing me. The fighting grew worse. He would pick me up and as we drove we would start fighting. I tried to get out of the car while he was driving once and that was a mistake I paid for dearly. I tried to run away and call for help, but he caught me and dragged me kicking and screaming into his house and punched and kicked me. When I screamed, he grabbed a pillow and shoved it over my face, smothering me. This became a new tactic for him. There were times I thought he would kill me, I knew he would kill me. I imagined how he would respond when he realized I was dead and I always imagined him committing suicide. But at the last moment before I lost consciousness, he would release me and I would gasp for breath and feel the sharp needles of pain as I filled my lungs. And he would cry and hold me as I sobbed and then sometimes he would take my clothes off and force himself on me. 

I tried to break up with him. I told him I had had enough. I hid at a friend’s house. And when I thought it was safe to leave I left to go home, and suddenly I knew the headlights behind me were his. He was following me. I knew I couldn’t get away from him. He wouldn’t let me leave him. I parked my car at my dorm. He had my puppy, the one he had brought me before we left for college and had taken since I couldn’t have a pet. He told me he wouldn’t keep her anymore and that she was my responsibility. He knew that would work to get me to go with him and I fell into his trap. I agreed to leave with him to talk things through. But as usual we started fighting immediately. When he pulled up to his place, I got out and started walking away from him. He put the dog inside and I mistook that for him giving in, but he wasn’t having it. It was like a broken record the fights we would have. He ran back after me, grabbed me kicking and screaming and drug me across the ground into his place and locked the door. He hit me repeatedly, knocked the wind out of me. My collarbone felt broken. He left the room and I tried to sneak out the side door, but he caught me. He threw me and my face slammed into the corner of the small refrigerator. My head started spinning and the blood ran down my face. I made eye contact and he looked frightened. Like this time he knew he had hurt me and others would see the damage he had done. I was dizzy and could barely stand. He carried me to his room and laid me in the bed and I blacked out. The next morning I woke and he drove me home. I was bruised and swollen, my eyes black, a gash in my forehead, my chest throbbing in pain. I walked in and my roommate’s eyes filled with tears. She insisted I go to the hospital to get checked out. Reluctantly, I agreed. The police came and interrogated me. They insisted I press charges and I refused and they berated me, they were so awful to me. I thought they were as bad as him. How do you treat someone who has been hurt, physically and emotionally as if they are the problem? All I cared about was ensuring everything was ok. That nothing was broken. It wasn’t. I was fine, just bruised and battered. I went back to my dorm. He called over and over to check on me. He felt guilt for what he had done. The next day I piled on the makeup before class to hide the bruises. It was ironic but I had been cast as the lead in a play “Eye of God” about a woman that is abused and eventually murdered by her husband. I was at rehearsal and in one scene, I was holding the actor playing a little boy in my lap his head against my chest and the pain from my bruised collarbone was excruciating. The lights were down and when they came up everyone could see the tears on my face and I winced in pain. Then the questions started. The makeup I had carefully applied had run and the bruises were showing. I couldn’t hide what had happened. The next few days were a whirlwind. The Theater Director called my father, the campus police were called. I was interviewed. My father came and was so angry. He took me to the police station and made me press charges. There was a restraining order. I was moved to a new dorm. I kept trying to explain to everyone that he didn’t mean to hurt me like that. Really, he did mean to hurt me, but not where everyone could see the bruises. But I also knew that abusing me was to numb the pain he felt inside. 

With the restraining order and my new dorm that was more secure, I tried to move on and stay away from him. I tried to use this as my opportunity. He would stalk me but always stay just far enough away to meet the restraining order requirements. I started dating someone else. He was kind and smart. We looked good together. He knew about the abuse but wasn’t deterred. One day, we had a run in with my ex. I realized that I couldn’t put him in danger and broke up with him. And somehow I let my abuser back into my life. He was apologetic, broken. He had gotten in trouble back in Uvalde before we had left for college and it had come back to get him. He had defended his father, his father who knew his son’s temper and used that to his advantage to inflict revenge on someone. The man ended up with staples in his head and had pressed charges. When it finally went to court, it came out that he had beaten me and the judge had little mercy. He was put on probation and had a monitoring device. I felt guilty, like I was to blame. Me and his worthless father. So, I went back to him. But not much changed. The jealousy came back, the abuse began again. I had friends and he couldn’t handle it. I had started working and had found a level of self confidence. I tried to balance everything and keep him from anger. I managed well enough until the night I made the mistake of getting help from the boyfriend I had broken up with to keep safe. He saw my car at the house and burst in. Nothing was happening other than me getting tutoring help in preparation for finals. I threw myself between them. Apologized profusely and begged him to leave. He did. And after that, I broke it off for good. I threatened to call the police, and he knew what would happen. Eventually he left and I slowly moved on with my life. I found out he broke his probation and ended up in jail. He wrote me letters. I went to visit him once. There was safety behind the glass. I felt sadness for him, mixed with fear of what would happen when he got out. But that was what I needed, him in jail, to break the bond between us. I moved on and met someone else. I wanted to live. I wanted to be free. I wanted to break the cycle of abuse that had plagued me for my whole life. I knew he was out of jail the morning I found a half locket on the front window of my car. He tried to call me and I ignored the calls. He was waiting for me outside my car a couple of days later. I told him I had moved on and that I wished him well. Somehow he knew and he left. I never saw him again. I used to be scared to go back to Uvalde for fear of running into him, but a part of me wanted to see him. I wanted to know he was ok. That he wasn’t doing to someone else what he did to me. My parents rarely brought him up. My stepmother (the 2nd one), mentioned he had gotten married and I felt sick worrying about what abuse he was inflicting on her, but I pushed it out of my mind and tried to focus on my future and leave the past where it belonged. I promised myself to never be in a relationship like that again, never be abused. I would not allow someone to inflict that pain on me. I didn’t deserve it. I don’t deserve it. That the cycle of abuse must end. That I was ending it.

[the-connection]

We all have that friend who, no matter how great a film is, will always say the book is better. And the worst part is that they're almost always right, the jerks. Well, the next time they open their bookish little mouths, here are some examples you can use to shut them right up. Some books contained scenes so nonsensical, stupid, or dong-filled that filmmakers didn't even try to put them in their adaptations. And speaking of dong-filled, let's start right off with ...

5

Forrest Gump Left Out His Gigantic Monster Penis

In the movie version of Forrest Gump, we follow a simple-minded but superhumanly capable man as he aw-shuckses through some of the most important events in American history. Whether it's showing Elvis how to dance, rewriting the Civil Rights Movement, or investing heavily in a company guilty of crimes against humanity, Gump unwittingly guides the course of the 20th century. Looking back, the movie is still a bit strange ... but the book was downright insane.

You're probably asking, "Didn't a woman take sexual advantage of a mentally challenged man to trick him into raising another guy's baby before she died of AIDS in that movie? What was in that book that they had to leave out?"

Paramount Pictures"Hump, Forrest, hump!"

We're glad you asked!

In the book, Forrest and Jenny still got after it all night, but this version was very, very clear about two very, very strange points: First, that Forrest has an enormous penis. Second, that Jenny loves to talk dirty. Now, remember that the novel is told in the first person, and Forrest no talk good. So now that you're all set up, here's a sentence no one ever expected to type: Please enjoy a graphic passage from the erotic memoirs of Forrest Gump.

Paramount Pictures"You like magazines? I wrote to a magazine once ..."

When we get home, Jenny begun takin off her clothes. She is down to her underpants, an I am jus settin on the couch tryin not to notice, but she come up an stand in front of me an she say, "Forrest, I want you to fuck me now."

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You could knocked me over with a feather! I jus set there an gawked at her. Then she set down nex to me an started foolin with my britches, an nex thing I knowed, she'd got off my shirt an was huggin an kissin me an all. At first, it was jus a little odd, her doin all that. Course I had dreamed bout it all along, but I had not expected it quite this way. But then, well I guess something came over me, an it didn't matter what I'd expected, cause we was rollin aroun on the couch an had our clothes nearly off an then Jenny pulled down my undershorts an her eyes get big an she say, "Whooo -- lookit what you got there!" an she grapped me jus like Miz French had that day, but Jenny never say nothin about me keepin my eyes closed, so I didn't.

The scene goes on to include all the sexual positions they try: Jenny shown me shit I never could of figgered out on my own ... sideways, crosswise, upside down, bottomwise, lengthwise, dogwise, standin up, setting down, bending over, leanin back, inside-out and outside-in.

Paramount PicturesIt's basically a porn parody of the scene of Bubba listing shrimp recipes.

The point is, he and his notably large dick wore that ass out. If the novel was faithfully adapted, Forrest Gump would have been nine hours long and inspired a tense public debate on how many yards of penis should be allowed in a PG-13 movie.

4

The Comic Version of Thor: Ragnarok Is Seriously Messed Up

In Thor: Ragnarok, Thor and Loki work together to fight Odin's firstborn daughter, Hela, the Goddess of Death. She has spike-throwing powers and a giant wolf, and nobody in Asgard stands the slightest chance against her. Characters die before you can even figure out who they were supposed to be, and Thor ends up on a garbage dump planet run ruled by Jeff Goldblum, who turns him into a slave gladiator and makes him fight Conan Hulk.

Marvel StudiosIt's pretty awesome.

The movie is based on the Thor: Ragnarok comic book series, and it made a few notable changes from the source material. For instance, in the movie, Thor loses his eye in a fight. In the comics, he tears it out of his own damn head. Comic book nerds and people who still worship the Norse gods (thanks for reading, Bjerkman the Unbroken!) might recognize this move. His father, Odin, did the same thing ages ago when he traded his eye for knowledge. That's why Thor goes the extra step and yanks out both his eyes.

Marvel Comics

Marvel Comics"Bah! You ask for but one eye? Thor doth double down!"

And somehow, this gets both weirder and darker. After he willfully blinds himself, Thor commits suicide by hanging himself from Yggdrasil, the World Tree.

Marvel Comics"The Odinson found this part a bit too dark for a tentpole blockbuster!"

In the movie, Thor has to deal with his brother Loki's constant betrayals and tricks by staying one step ahead of him. In the comic, Thor just tears Loki's goddamn head off and ties it to his belt.

Marvel ComicsHe was renamed God of Conditioner after his ponytail proved to be stronger than his neck.

There are some big decisions that have to be made at the end of Thor: Ragnarok, but they're nothing compared to what Thor's faced with in the comic version. He doesn't summon some puny fire god to destroy one realm -- he shatters Yggdrasil to destroy every realm. So yes, in the movie, Thor blows up a lot of homes. But in the comic, he murders e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e.

In the end, we can all agree that "Let's add Conan Hulk" was a good note, but "Let's do a rewrite on the Thor genocide scene" was a great note. It would be seriously tough to talk parents into taking their kids to a movie wherein the hero pulls his own eyes out, kills himself, and then kills every being in the universe while wearing his brother's severed, screaming head on his belt. Or maybe not, because isn't that the plot to Cars 3?

3

The Stardust Movie Leaves Out the Gruesome Unicorn Mutilation

Stardust tells the story of Tristan Thorn, a young man who crosses the titular wall of his hometown of Wall to enter the land of Faerie so he can bring back a fallen star to win the heart of a girl. We know, it sounds like a sarcastic example from a How to Write Young Adult Fantasy for Beginners textbook, but it was turned into a real movie. Starring Robert DeNiro!

It turns out that the fallen star is actually a woman (Yvain, played by Clare Danes) who hurt her leg when she fell to Earth. Tristan has no idea how he's going to get a crippled, woman-shaped star back to his walled village of Wall until a unicorn randomly turns up to help! Haha, for real!

Paramount PicturesThe original title was Lisa Frank Origins.

The pair eventually encounters the witch Lamia (Michelle Pfeiffer), who wants to kill them both. The unicorn helps them escape by head-butting Billy, a goat in the shape of a man, so hard that he turns back into a goat. Then the witch starts a fire and we never see the unicorn again ... in the movie.

Paramount Pictures"GOAT GTFO!"

The book has a bit more to tell us about that unicorn's fate. In the novel, it doesn't just take on Billy -- it fights the witch as well. And while it gets a few good shots in, the unicorn loses about as hard as anything has ever lost anything. First the witch jams a knife into the unicorn's brain through its eye. Then ...

The beast dropped to the wooden floor of the inn, blood dripping from its side and from its eye and from its open mouth. First it fell to its knees, and then it collapsed, utterly, as the life fled. Its tongue was piebald and it protruded most pathetically from the unicorn's dead mouth.

Think that's a bit much? We're not done yet. The witch needs the unicorn's corpse to move, so she spits her blood into its mouth, and this animates it. Whatever, that's the witch equivalent of a forklift. Later, she saws its goddamn head off.

Paramount Pictures"No reason for that part. Just for fun."

Half-blind, the dead unicorn stumbled toward the green rock needle until it reached a depression at its base, where it dropped to the knees of its forelegs in a ghastly parody of prayer.

The witch-queen reached down and pulled her knife from out of the beast's eye-socket. She sliced across its throat. Blood started to ooze, too slowly, from the gash she had made. She walked back to the carriage and returned with her cleaver. Then she began to hack at the unicorn's neck, until she had separated it from the body, and the severed head tumbled into the rock hollow, now filling with a dark red puddle of brackish blood.

Jesus Christ. People who grew up watching The NeverEnding Story had their childhoods haunted by a horse sinking into the Swamp of Sadness. Can you imagine growing up in a world in which your favorite fantasy movie slowly carved the head off a defiled unicorn-zombie?

2

In The Book Version Of The Rescuers, The Villain Kills So, So Many Orphaned Girls

Disney's The Rescuers follows the adventures of two mice who work for the Rescue Aid Society, Miss Bianca and her loyal companion Bernard. In the film, an orphan named Penny is kidnapped by an alligator-loving hellbeast named Madame Medusa, who needs Penny in order to find the Devil's Eye, the world's largest diamond.

Those are some crazy characters, some genuine peril, and two ball-shrinkingly terrifying alligators. Luckily, Penny is the only orphan kidnapped, and she survives.

In the movie.

The original novel is called Miss Bianca, and is the second book in Margery Sharp's Miss Bianca series. In the book, the villain is the dreaded Duchess, who doesn't need any orphan girl (named Patience here, not Penny) to find her a famous diamond, because she lives in a castle made of them.

Little Brown & Co.It's arguably too many diamonds.

No, the only reason the Duchess wants an orphan girl is to torture her. She beats Patience with a diamond-studded cane "just to hear her cry out." She starves and tortures her: "[The Duchess'] big knuckles ground cruelly against Patience's collar bone, the long fingers almost met in the child's emaciated, shrinking flesh." Hell, the kid doesn't even have a toothbrush -- "she just dipped a torn old rag into a cold jar of water." Life sucks for Patience. But it was way worse for the other orphans. Yes, there were other orphans. Emphasis on were.

Patience is not the first orphan girl the Duchess has kidnapped; she's simply the only one to survive long enough to be in the book. "Patience was the last of a series, all the others having died young."

You might be wondering what the Duchess in this children's book about a talking mouse did with all those dead little girls. Well, as the story unfolds, Miss Bianca encounters two bloodhounds named Torture and Torment, who talk about all the girls they hunted. At the end of the conversation, she realizes that the seat they previously offered her was "a very small shin bone -- gnawed."

Little Brown & Co.One thing's for sure: It's more dead orphan girl shinbones than the children's book illustrator expected to draw that day.

It's not ambiguous. When Patience escapes, we're told "the Duchess had faced the same situation before. As the little shin bone bore witness." There are no subtle hints in this book. It is made extremely clear that the Duchess had her hounds chase down and eat a bunch of orphan girls alive before the Rescue Aid Society ever heard about Patience.

Suddenly those scary cartoon alligators don't seem so bad.

1

Chris Gardner's The Pursuit Of Happyness Is Full Of Rape And Murder

The Pursuit Of Happyness sees Will Smith playing Chris Gardner, the ultimate wholesome dad in the ultimate wholesome family film (give or take some hobo urine) about the pursuit of the American Dream. Based on Gardner's memoir of the same name, the movie shows how he looks after his only son while homeless in San Francisco, sleeping in shelters and public bathrooms, all the while working for a Wall Street firm without pay, hoping to win a lucrative banking job.

There are a lot of hard knocks along the way, but he ultimately wins at life and goes on to become a millionaire. The book wasn't quite as family friendly.

A lot of the memoir is occupied by Gardner's relationship with his abusive stepfather ... and Gardner's attempts to kill him. Gardner tries to poison him, and fantasizes constantly about shooting or bludgeoning the man to death. He even pushes a refrigerator down the stairs on top of him. Here he is bragging about the precision of this murder scheme:

In perfect timing, I missed a step, on purpose, and let the refrigerator go. A priceless look of confusion and horror came over his face, and like a work of art, the next thing I knew Freddie had a refrigerator on his chest and they were both tumbling down the steps.

It seems like a gruesome thing to actively try to murder his stepfather, but to be fair, the stepfather sucks. He almost kills Chris' mother multiple times, even chasing her into a store with a shotgun at one point. The closest he gets to ending her life is with a two-by-four, "bashing it into the back of her skull with such a force that the wood splintered into her skin, sticking into her, spewing blood not just underneath her but everywhere in the room."

Columbia PicturesIt's a fun read.

Chris eventually gets out of there without committing murder, but things do not get any less horrible. At one point, he talks about one unhappy mark returning from a hustle gone wrong. And we mean very, very wrong.

But even if I can't track time, I remember every detail of what happens, from the second he pulls a knife to my throat, forces me on my back, pulls down my pants, puts his dick between my legs, to registering the confused horror of my dick getting hard from stimulation, to the true horror of him hoisting me into position so he can fuck me in the ass, right on the living room floor. Every grunt, every breath. His smell overwhelms. Funky. Rancid even, inhuman. White hot pain. Cold hard linoleum.

Luckily, the story doesn't end there. Because Gardner gets his revenge three years (and 11 pages) later, when he waits outside a bar for his rapist to exit and beats him to death with a cinder block!

"Oh shit," he said, not even finishing the statement before I crowned him with the cinder block, bearing down with all my strength on the top of his head.

At first, he didn't fall, but he faltered. After more pounding, he finally crumpled to the sidewalk, and I threw the brick down, left it right there, and walked away. Didn't look back, didn't run. Right or wrong, I silently said the last words that I'd ever think about him -- Got your motherfucking ass.

So to be clear, someone was reading this book and thought, "This would make an excellent, uplifting family film! Starring the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air!"

Not gonna spoil anything, but IT (based on the book by Stephen King) did a pretty good job editing the book into a script too.

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