(If you start from a point of likely to hit back, they might not throw the first one)
And that it’s Spooky how I always know where you are
(I know people and their mood by their identifying gait, it was the only warning some days)
And that my silent way of walking is something between Creepy and What Are You Trying To Prove
(I know how to cry silently too, without even shaking the bed)
I’m not like that, really.
You might wonder why my precious things are kept in boxes so easily fit into my car, the car that has three days worth of food and clothing at all times. You say I’m like a girl scout, Prepared.
(Prepared is not the same as Frightened by an inevitable future)
I take my shoes off at the door, religiously, but do not require you to also be Barefoot in my house.
(there was a time when I never took them off until he was asleep, or gone)
All those adjectives can be combined into a word that rhymes with Bitch.
So be warned: if you choose to hunt witches, know that this one has been hunted once already
Text message from Heard to her publicist; “ I’m really bruised and might have a black eye or two tmrw – same with my nose. Nurse on the way to make sure I don’t have concussion.” There are also texts to her psychotherapist saying it’s an ‘emergency’ and a text to a friend in which she says “J beat me up pretty good”. (page 87)
Heard did not defecate in Depp’s bed and the previous judge ruled it unlikely. The judge in the previous case ruled it likely it were the dogs, as there was evidence it“had an incomplete mastery of her bowels.”
Depp was the one to originally ask Amber to settle outside of court, and the couple issued a statement that, “Neither party has made false accusations for financial gain.”
Depp is suing Heard for $50 million, over 7x the amount they originally settled together. Heard originally attempted to get the suit moved to California and dismissed, and only filed a counterclaim when it was refused.
The suit is not to determine whether Heard was violent, or whether their relationship was mutually toxic, but as to whether Heard lied in her op-ed, and there is plenty of evidence of Depp physically harming Heard multiple times; regardless of Heard’s retaliation, he has been proven to be a domestic abuser.
[DISCLAIMER: This post is purely in relevance to the Heard vs. Depp case, to fact-check claims made by Depp, his team, as well as opinions on social media. They are not meant to be a remission on Heard’s part of any potential wrongdoing.]
I’m hyperfixating on the Johnny Depp trial and I’m making that everyone’s problem.
Cut for tw domestic abuse/violence (implied).
I went down some rabbit holes and have ended up reading through transcripts from the UK trial, and I have a lot of thoughts about it that I will be posting about once I can organize them (sorry), but in the meantime, I just - this is amazing:
(If you’ve been watching the trial, you probably know that Amber et al. refer to Johnny’s non-sober, “abusive” side as “the monster.”) During Johnny’s testimony, being questioned by one of Amber’s lawyers about a trip to Tokyo:
Lawyer (L): (Person) was asking (Your Assistant) “Did you survive Japan? No giant monster attacks I hope.” Johnny (J): Yes, ma'am. L:Does it seem from that that others referred to the monster ormonster’s attacks? J:I believe [he] is referring to Godzilla. L:Really? J:Giant monster attacks in Tokyo. Yes, I believe he is talking about Japanese films, where monsters attack people, giant monsters.
At which point, the lawyer basically changed the subject. The transcript doesn’t indicate it, but I imagine there was a lengthy pause there.
I love how Amber Heard’s lawyer has been objected to, like, five times already during her closing arguments, and by love, I mean this is giving me secondhand embarrassment. I don’t know whose idea it was to let this woman give the closing (or part of it), or for that matter, whose idea it was to let her open her mouth at all during this trial. All she does is ramble on, contradict herself, misunderstand shit, and just generally come off as an incompetent idiot.
She was objected to again while I was writing this post, jesus christ.
tag blacklist alert: please blacklist off-topic: johnny depp trial thoughtsif you don’t want to see my posts about the trial. (There won’t be many, but I do have post-verdict thoughts.)
This woman has gone around to at least three morning talk shows since the verdict was announced (the day before yesterday), claiming, among other things, that the jury was confused and/or compromised bc “of course they all went on social media, how could you not?” and, like, I’m no lawyer but it seems to me that one shouldn’t go on national news impugning the integrity of a jury on a highly publicized trial, especially without evidence, just bc you think their verdict wasn’t fair. At worst, I’m sure it’s some kind of ethical violation and, at best, it’s just in really bad taste.
But, as I stated before, the only thing she did well during the trial was make herself look incompetent, so.
Cut for tw domestic abuse, tw domestic violence, tw gaslighting, tw johnny depp & amber heard trial, tw truly offensive length, tw gratuitous gif usage, not for reblog.
(Note: This is not tagged with either Johnny or Amber’s names bc I don’t want this post to show up in those tags, so I’m sorry if you have them blocked and this made it past your filters. You can block off-topic: johnny depp trial thoughts instead, to hide the post.
(Note: I started writing this last Wednesday, a couple of hours after the verdict, but it just … well. I don’t really know what happened here, I just had a lot of feelings, I guess. I don’t even want to post it anymore, tbh, bc it’s almost a week later and it’s probably nonsensical and who cares, really, I doubt anyone is going to read this anyway bc it’s like 10k words - but, well, I’m literally only posting it bc it’s written and wtf else am I going to do with it?)
Warning: this is really fucking long.
The verdict is in, with Johnny Depp having won his uphill legal battle. I believe he won all three counts, was awarded $10 million in damages (or maybe 8, I can’t remember now), and Amber was awarded $2 million in punitive damages. Case closed, literally. Justice for Johnny Depp achieved.
… But to me, it feels kind of hollow.
Don’t get me wrong - I am very happy with this result. I think this is vindication for Johnny and I hope he finds peace and healing as he moves forward with his life. It’s just that this trial has gotten so much bigger than all of that, and - in the last few days of closing and verdict watch, especially - I have been so disappointed in this world, in this culture. To be honest, after the travesty that has been the last several years, I didn’t think I could possibly beanymore cynical about our society or that I could besurprised anymore about … I don’t know, anything, really, but specifically how willfully ignorant a lot of people are. This past week has proven you can always be more cynical and more surprised.
So I can’t be happy or even satisfied with the verdict without also being cognizant of not only Amber Heard’s supporters crying foul but also the mainstream media framing this as alossfor women, for abuse survivors. And just being immensely - I don’t know, troubled, I guess? about it. And there are quite a few reasons why, but I just need to talk about the biggest ones. Right off the bat, it troubles me how gross it is that, despite having proven his case in a fair trial (and it was absolutely fair, anyone who doesn’t think so either didn’t watch it or didn’t understand it), the media would rather continue to peddle the narrative that Johnny is an abuser and that this is some huge step backwards for feminism than to actually admit that, hey, men can be victims too, and also women lie. Notallwomen; probably not even most women - but, some women. Having a vagina doesn’t preclude someone from being a lying liar who lies, and this cultural narrative of “believe all women” simply bc they are women is so fucking harmful and, yeah, gross.
(Please forgive my obnoxious faux-academic formatting of the remainder of this post, bc it just got too big for me to try to maintain a consistent point [I was confusing myself], so this was for my own sake but also hopefully easier readability.)
I. What This Really Says About #MeToo (And Why It’s Uncomfortable).
A lot of people are upset bc they feel (and the media is perpetuating the idea, but I’ll talk about that later) that this is a huge step backward for #MeToo. This is an example of women not being believed, and we’re supposed to believe allwomen. Now women will have a harder time being believed, men will feel vindicated in their misogyny, what’s wrong with this fucking world, etc. etc. And, I mean, the fact is that this argument isn’t wrong.Itisa blow to #MeToo. Women willhave a harder time being believed. Mendo feel vindicated in their misogyny.
But that’s not because of Johnny, it’s because of Amber. And that’s what people can’t seem to wrap their heads around.
Ia. #MeToo as a Movement.
#MeToo was an idea that became a movement that was founded on giving abuse survivors a voice. It was supposed to empower people to speak up and say, this happened to me too.That’s literally what it means. It was strength in numbers, several voices in unison, fighting back against a culture that blamed women for their own abuse (“Well, what were you wearing?” “Why didn’t you just leave him?” etc) and made it notoriously difficult for victims to get justice, especially for sexual abuse. Rapists are rarely convicted. Women are interrogated about their behavior, as if wearing a short skirt or drinking too much or even just walking home alone at night meant they deserved to have been raped or assaulted because “Well, what did you expect?” Women weren’t (aren’t) believed, and it needed to change. Needs to change; it’s a constant battle.
And I’m saying women, specifically, here bc it’s just a fact, statistically, that women are usually the victims and men are usually the perpetrators.
Ib. Mostly Women Victims = Only Women Victims [citation needed]
But, somewhere along the line, the point of the movement became muddled. “Stop blaming women for being abused; stop siding with abusers; start taking this seriously” became “believe women when they say they’re abused, no matter what,” and completely excluded men as victims from the conversation.
I’m not saying allwomen do this, obviously, but I am saying that there are a lot of women who define feminism not asequalitybut as superiority. They think in absolutes - statistically, men are more often perpetrators of abuse so therefore when there’s abuse, the man is always the abuser is their mindset. It comes from having such a deep resentment of the patriarchy and male privilege that it’s as if these women want to hold every individual man who exists personally responsible for the oppression of women.
(Note - I’m kind of uncomfortable painting this entire subset of women with the “terf/radfem” brush, bc I don’t believe most of them are, so I’m referring to them as UberFeminists, bc it’s my post and I do what I want.)
I don’t necessarily think that every woman who thinks this way is automatically a radfem/terf, but rather, I think that a lot of women have this anti-men mindset by default, even if they never follow it into actively-radfem ideology. They may not even realize they have this mindset - until something like this trial comes along and here they are, either siding with Amber or, if they accept she’s lying, are still quick to point out how Johnny is “just as bad” bc despite his being the victim, they still want to blame him forsomethingdue to his maleness. So they attack his addictions, or his foul language, or his age. (None of which are things to be proud of, but none of which make him an abuser, either.)
My point is, a movement like #MeToo, which is meant to be empowering, can very quickly become toxic when it attracts UberFeminists and they claim it for themselves and treat the movement like a safe space for only their voices. When men who are also victims try to speak up and say, me too, there’s this overwhelming response of no. Get the fuck out of our safe space. Let women have this. You’re not a victim like weare victims, we can’t overpower you. And even if you area victim, your maleness still gives you privilege. This movement is not for you. Society already gives you a voice, stop trying to speak over ours. It’s like the equivalent of building a clubhouse and slapping a big old NO BOYS ALLOWED sign over the doorway.
And that’s the heart of the issue, this is what leads us back to where we are now with Johnny and Amber. That NO BOYS ALLOWED sign was a self-inflicted blow to #MeToo; it changed the narrative from “believe survivors” to “believe women” and effectively contributed to the toxic masculinity in this society that says men aren’t “real men” if they show emotion, or don’t adhere to traditionally masculine gender roles. In addition to men can’t be emotional, men must be tough, men must be domineering, etc, denying male victims a voice adds men must own their privilege, regardless of their abuse; real men aren’t victims, even if she hits and slaps him, she’s not actually a threat, it’s not really abuse to the clusterfuck that is toxic masculinity.
“You didn’t get punched, you got hit … I did not fucking deck you, I was fucking hitting you. You’re fine. I did not hurt you … I’m not sitting here bitching about it. You’re a fucking baby” (Amber Heard).
Ic. #MeToo Made Its Own Bed Here.
Again, to clarify, I’m not trying to demean #MeToo, either as a concept or as a catalyst for change. I know many women support it without also supporting the toxic masculinity, and it has helped a lot of women with their trauma, even if it’s just made them feel less alone. But this is why I feel like people are uncomfortable with criticizing the movement - bc it feels like criticizing the people whom it has helped, and that’s not what I’m trying to do.
I think that the movement, however, disintegrated into something inherently harmful, and in doing so, began undermining its own credibility. UberFeminists adopting it and subsequently establishing a narrative of “believe all women, no questions asked” and excluding men from the movement set the stage for Amber - and for women abusers in general - to weaponize it and use it to accuse her ex-husband of abuse while never expecting to actually have to prove it. “I’m a woman, that’s my proof” has been the one consistent thread throughout all of her accusations for the last six or eight years. The public, at large, was asked to take her at her word that Johnny was an abuser and the public, so inundated with “believe all women” was like, *nods* seems legit. Johnny’s word meant absolutely nothing. Just like she knew it wouldn’t.
“Tell the world, Johnny, tell them, Johnny Depp — I, Johnny Depp, a man, I’m a victim too of domestic violence” and see how many people believe or side with you” (Amber Heard).
Well, he did tell the world, and he brought the receipts, and when Amber got on the stand and said, “I’m a woman, that’s my proof,” the court said, “Okay but what else have you got,” and Amber was like, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, and the court judged accordingly.* The result? #MeToo’s “believe all women” narrative collapsed, and the same type of people who fucked it up in the first place responded by blaming Johnnyfor its implosion. It’s not his fault he was abused, and it’s not his fault that what should have remained a movement giving allvictims a voice was co-opted by women who came along with their NO BOYS ALLOWED sign and drowned out the very voices - those of victims - they claimed to want to empower.
(*I am massively oversimplifying the trial so much here it’s not even funny.)
“It is imperative that people stop viewing this trial through the lens of the #MeToo movement and the supposed reversal of its progress. As Gaby Hinsliff says, “a justice system [is] founded on the principle of believing the evidence, even where that sometimes leads in uncomfortable directions … All women really ask of men – and, arguably, vice versa – is the chance to be heard without prejudice.” Heard was. The jury gave up six weeks of their lives to painstakingly go through the evidence in detail. It indicated that Heard was not telling the truth. This should not create a challenge for the #MeToo movement, if it cares about the truth, and not condoning the egregious defamation of an innocent person, who happens to be a man.” (Source.)
A sidenote that I agree with but am not going to go into (bc this is long enough already) was posted by this article:
“Never mind the fact that Heard has never presented compelling evidence to prove her claims, we’re supposed to accept her version of events by virtue of her genitalia … [#MeToo] has exposed something deeply troubling at the heart of our media and larger society – the infantilization of women. To assert that a woman is not capable of defamation, malice, or lying, is to ask us to deny the reality of human nature. It actually reeks of a deep lack of respect for women and all of the complexity they have to offer. Women are, as feminists rightly claim, capable of anything that a man can do. This encompasses, of course, the good and the bad. The notion that we must take a woman’s word before being presented with evidence has been one of the most detrimental effects on our society … Depp may have prevailed in his defamation suit, but how many other men have Amber Heards at home who attempt to ruin their lives based on hearsay and never get the opportunity to defend themselves?”
II.“But He Said There Wasn’t Any Letter. He Said I Was Going Out of My Mind.” - (Gaslight, 1944)
One of the most appalling things about this entire case, and probably one of the things I latched onto the most, was how much gaslighting there was, and how much gaslighting there continues to be, on so many levels. Since this post is mostly just about the public’s reaction to the verdict, I won’t get into how I feel about the gaslighting in the actual relationship, except to say that it was genuinely triggering to me to discover not only how often Johnny’s addiction struggles were used against him (for example, Amber claiming Johnny was drunk when he wasn’t, that he was abusive during “blackouts” and so he didn’t remember, things like that) but also just the blatant manipulation of so many events.
Mostly, I think listening to the audio recordings was really eye-opening. I’ll address this more later bc it’s not really something I talk about on here, but I have been in an abusive relationship and I have been gaslit, both in that relationship and in general, and I know what it feels like to be made to feel like you can’t trust your own perception of how things played out, or that the truth means nothing, and how going around in circles with someone who is gaslighting you can feel like - well, it genuinely doesmake you feel crazy. The audio recordings reminded me a lot of that.
IIa. “You Keep Using That Word. I Don’t Think It Means What You Think It Means.”
When Amber and Johnny’s divorce was finalized, Amber was awarded $7 million, which she immediately announced she would be donating to charity. After the divorce, she repeated this a lot - that she “wanted nothing,” that she had donated her entire divorce settlement to charity - half to the CHLA and half to the ACLU. However, during the trial, it came out that she never actuallydonated any of the money, she just said she did. So then she changed her story to say, well, I pledgedit, and I was going to honor that pledge, but then Johnny sued me.
Camille Vasquez established that the entire settlement had been paid to Amber a yearbefore the lawsuit was filed, and Amber had yet to donate any of it to the charities, so she had the money. And there’s this weird back-and-forth in which Amber sits there and insists that she has donated it, because she usespledgedanddonatedinterchangeably, and even after Camille says something like, Idon’t use them interchangeably; again, have you donated your divorce settlement to charity as of today? Amber just doesn’t back down from insisting that she donated the money bc, to her, saying she would do it is the same thing as actually doing it.
Camille’s reaction after asking, yet again, have you donatedthe money, and Amber answering, yet again, yes, I pledgedit:
^^ I normally wouldn’t make gifs of a regular person (which Camille is, despite her being in the spotlight right now), but her expression here - the pure exasperation - just couldn’t be captured in screengrabs and speaks to how frustrating it is to go around in circles with someone who not only won’t back down from a lie, but makes you feel like you’re the one who’s wrong.
To me, the “pledged vs. donated” thing says a lot. It’s an example, in real time, of how Amber continues to talk in circles and assert things that either are just not true, or are only true in the sense that she personally defines truth (but are not actually true). Even when confronted with evidence, she will not back down. It’s so telling to me that if this is what she acts like on the stand, under oath, then imagine (or don’t imagine, just listen to some of the audio recordings) how much she lies, bends the truth, or blatantly gaslights Johnny (and others around her/them).
And as I said earlier, according to people’s comments online, this is what made a lot of people start doubting her credibility. Bc she was so blatantly asserting her own version of the truth, and it made a lot of people be like, well, how much of what else she’s said is her version of the truth (if not outright lies)? What’s going on here?
Looking at it from this perspective, it makes sense that the most die-hard Amber supporters’ arguments hinge on misrepresenting the truth.
IIb. Something Something Last Two Braincells.
Earlier I mentioned the UberFeminists who have more or less taken possession of the #MeToo movement and made it a space that excludes men. Now these UberFeminists are the ones who are most ardently supporting Amber. From what I’m seeing, there are two groups of people supporting Amber:
Group A, said UberFeminists (along with actual radfems/terfs) who hate men so much that they’d rather align themselves with a narcissistic liar than admit a man can be a victim of domestic violence, and
Group B, people who aren’t so much invested in believing Amber as much as they are in notbelieving Johnny. They’re brushing the whole thing off with “Both of them are just as bad as each other” and not only do they openly admit they haven’t watched (and therefore don’t actually know anything about) the trial but also act like those of us who arewatching are the problem. “It’s none of our business,” “There are more important things going on,” “I’m not interested in watching two people fight over money they don’t need,” etc
Of course, there is
Group C,people who genuinelygive zero fucks, are not invested either way, or don’t even know this is a thing that’s going on, which, whatever, I’m certainly not saying anyone is obligated to care or show interest in anythingthey don’t want to. I have no reaction to the zero-fucks crowd, ie no emotion, ie it isn’t bothering me. (I kinda envy it, tbh.) My issue is with the first two groups (and by extension the mainstream media).
Anyway, so being a Johnny supporter arguing (either actively, or just by virtue of position) with Groups A and B feels a lot like gaslighting, too. Because Group A (and to a lesser extent, Group B) is full of people cherry-picking and twisting what’s been shown in court to create “alternative facts,” basically, so they can feel justified in supporting Amber. And when you argue, they say: you’re misinformed, lol where’d you hear that, TikTok? do your own research, etc. (And when you say, I watched the entire trial, here’s my evidence, here’s where xyz was proven a lie, etc, they’re like, lol well I didn’t waste my time watching this trial, go touch grass like - you literally cannot win. Which can alsomake you feel crazy - being told you’re misinformed, and then having your counterargument dismissed as they belittle you … for being informed.)
Either they twist the facts to support their preferred narrative bc they are stupid, or bc they genuinely hate men - it doesn’t really matter which one it is, the point is that this really gets under my skin bc I’ve hadenoughof the “alternate facts” brigade. It’s made me feel like I’m losing my mind for well over two years and it continues to make me feel like I’m losing my mind bc this isn’t a disagreement of opinion, it’s having an objective fact exist and I’m looking at it like, oh okay, so that’s a thing, and the other person is looking at it like, Ido not acknowledge this as a thing, sorry, nope.
Or, to put it more clearly, it’s like I and another person are looking at a big orange basketball and I’m saying, hmm, yeah, looks pretty orange to me, bounces, definitely a basketball, and the other person is like, are you stupid, clearly this is a watermelon, and it’s like - how do you even respond?Like, that’s exactly what it feels like to me.
So on the one hand, you have Those People, and then on the other hand, you’ve got the Group B “it’s none of our business” people. And I don’t think interactions with them feel quitelike gaslighting, but rather, they make one more cognizant of gaslighting happening? I don’t know if that makes sense, but the easiest way I can think of to elaborate is to address how the mainstream media - publications I have respected - is openly siding with Amber. Headlines about how the internet is “turning on” Amber Heard, how the only people siding with Johnny Depp are alt-right q-anoners (which, believe me, isnot a group I want to be associated with even a little), and how big a step backward this is for #MeToo. (Nevermind how damaging these headlines are to victims who are men - their voices don’t matter, obvs.)
That’s egrigious enough, but they support these statements by straight up saying that people on Johnny’s side need to stop getting their information from TikTok soundbytes and Youtube clips. The media is doing exactly what Group A is doing - supporting Amber bc she’s a woman and trying to discredit valid arguments against her by accusing the arguer of not knowing what they’re talking about.
One article writes, “in the face of an internet eager to pin everything on Heard, it’s important to remind ourselves of the facts — not the TikTok narratives.”
I just - this statement is literally not what’s happening. It is, in fact, projection.The portion of the internet who is “pinning everything” on Amber is the portion that watched the trial. Who saw the facts and evidence being presented, in real time, and came to their own conclusions. And the media’s response is basically, “no, you didn’t, but maybe you saw so many TikToks that you think you did. You should stop doing that and get informed of the facts. Read my article.”
I mean … that feels like textbook gaslighting to me. And Group A may be using these same gaslighting tactics as they dig deeper into Amber’s trench, but Group B is full of the people who fallfor this shit. Either they lackthe critical thinking skills to see through it, or they’re just too intellectually lazy to challenge it; they fall for the gaslighting because they are content with being told what to believe, bc the media’s narrative aligns with their own biases. And when you point out that hey, maybe it’s not as clear-cut as the media wants you to believe? they hit you back with, “it’s none of our business anyway.”
And it’s like, well, actually it is our business bc a) the legal system in the United States should be transparent and accessible to the public, and I don’t think “we shouldn’t be privy to what happens in the courts” is quite the flex you think it is, and b) the implications of this case have a far greater reach than just being Johnny and Amber’s personal business.
But no. Group B is latching onto the idea that Johnny’s supporters are the misinformed ones so that they can continue to stick their fingers in their ears like la la la, I support women, I will not intellectually confront the idea that men can be victims too, leave Britney Amber alone!
Which is a disappointing thing to watch, certainly, but probably the most disappointing part about it is how many left-aligned people seem to be in Group B, including my personal friends. People who a year ago were speaking out against, like, anti-vaxxers/anti-science dumbfucks are now thoroughly enmeshed in this anti-facts narrative pushed by the media.
So it just … not only does it make me question people I thought I knew really well - question their intellect, at the very least, but also question their deeply-rooted biases - but it also makes me question media that I previously, as I said, respected.
IIc. “They’re Really More Like Guidelines.” - the Mainstream Media re: the Rules of Ethical Journalism.
“Proving that corporate media is lazy and stupid … the Los Angeles Times … reported a Jason Momoa joke meme as real news. ‘At one point, actor Jason Momoa, star of ‘Aquaman,’ testified via live video in support [of] his co-star Heard,’ he wrote … the problem is that Momoa did not testify at the trial. Winton would have known this if he actually watched the proceeding … Instead, Winton got his news about the trial from TikTok and social media where this meme was making the rounds … Lawyers who attended the trial in the gallery to report on jury reactions … hardly ever saw any mainstream news media in the courtroom. Yet Big Media wanted to be the ones guiding the narrative of the trial.” (Source.)
(Note - when I first started writing this, the day of the verdict, most of this stuff was just beginning to come out. Since then, tons more media coverage has been and continues to be published, peddling this false narrative, and Amber’s own lawyer has gone around to multiple news shows to spew more misinformation about how unfair the trial was. Here’s a small sampling of this trash fire.)
What the #MeToo movement has become over the years set the stage for the media to openly support it by taking Amber at her word that she’s a survivor of abuse. By doing so, they have been complicit in perpetuating the “believe all women” narrative and portraying Amber as this brave survivor, at the expense of Johnny Depp’s reputation, career, and character (not to mention mental health). This trial was six weeks of evidence to the contrary, and millions of people watched it. And instead of owning their error, the media wants to double-down and call Johnny’s supporters misinformed, and turn this verdict into an attack on #MeToo. They’d rather stick to the (extremely harmful) narrative that men can’t be victims by calling this verdict an injustice for women.
This is them saving face instead of admitting that a) they might have fucked up and helped ruin a man’s life, or b) their journalism has been flawed this entire time, as none of them ever dug hard enough for the truth. They didn’t examine Amber’s “mountain of evidence” to find out if any of it held any weight. They hopped on the story without doing the homework. Now they don’t want to eat crow, so instead, they are trying to control the fallout, and when Johnny’s supporters disagree with it (hey, that’s not what happened and here’s the evidence), the media responds with, whatever, stop getting your information from TikTok you fucking misogynist. Projection at its finest.
One publication, I think maybe the NYT but I can’t remember off-hand, wrote an article about how trials shouldn’t be aired like this. I followed a twitter link and didn’t save it, so I have no idea how to find it again, but it stuck with me bc I think it was the first time I remember seeing (or paying attention to) evidence of this, like, smear campaign against the airing of the trial and the fact that people were watching it for themselves.
It definitely bothered me at the time, though. The tone was very much, like - hey, wait a second, you’re not supposed to be watching things like this, you’re supposed to believe what we tell you to believe bc we know better, we have the facts. You’re fucking up the script and it needs to stop.
And I thought
waitwhat.gif(Tumblr only allows 10 images per post; actual gif spared indignity of being part of this essay.)
- only to find that the “it’s none of our business” -ers were (are) eating it up. (Edit: I copy/pasted the wrong part of this post here, and now I don’t remember what my original point was with this, besides just generally being appalling. My bad.)
Anyway, after seeing that article, I started to pay attention to what the mainstream media was saying, and in the wake of the verdict, it’s just gotten even worse. Over and over - these are the facts. Stop getting your news from TikTok. Read a real news source. Believe Amber, the woman. Perpetuate the myth that men cannot be abuse victims. #MeToo. Even if Amber did some bad things, Johnny’s just as toxic. There’s no such thing as a perfect victim - stop vilifying Amber for not being perfect. Also Johnny is obviously a lying, toxic abuser bc he’s not perfect (he does drugs! He’s an addict/alcoholic with a foul mouth! He’s a(n older) man!). Round and round we go and it’s just fucking exhausting and frustrating.
(Note - Johnny is not even in the neighborhood of perfect, I’m not saying I think he’s some innocent angel in all of this, I’m just saying he’s human and very flawed but more importantly there’s a blatant double-standard here and in general re: “perfect victims” that needs to be acknowledged.)
And it’s not like the media gives a shit about #MeToo or victims of abuse. They’re not taking this stance here bc they genuinely feel like (or care that) Amber has been wronged. They’re taking this stance bc media needs consumers to stay afloat, and people aren’t going to consumetheir brand of shitty journalism (ie, pay money to be fed a version of a pre-determined narrative) if they can go directly to the source instead and come to their own conclusions. So they (the media) are doing everything they can to undermine the credibility of the source.
And like I said before - it’s a gross manipulation tactic, if not outright gaslighting, but I could be disgusted by it without feeling emotionally harmed by it until I realized that my friends were falling for it. Friends I’ve respected and commiserated with and just plain like, as people. Friends whose judgements I’ve always trusted, whose intellect felt on par with my own, whose beliefs aligned with mine (which, I am not saying everyone has to agree with me about everything ever in order to be my friend, but they do have to agree with me - and with decent human beings - when it comes to things like not being homophobic, racist, sexist [snort], etc).
But now these friends are suddenly looking at this basketball and saying, looks like a watermelon to me. And I’m like, but earlier we both looked at a tennis ball and agreed it was a tennis ball, and that the pomegranate was a pomegranate,I thought we were on the same page? and they reply, well, the pomegranate wasn’t a fucking wife-beater.
I may have lost my point somewhere, but basically, the media is contributing to the gaslighting that seemingly has permeated every layer of this case, from the actual relationship itself to how the public responds to the verdict. And with the media, it adds this weird layer, this feeling of being gaslit by proxy in addition to being gaslit by the anti-facters - and it’s an uncomfortable feeling, yknow, it’s hard to sit with the cognizance of this kind of manipulation and willful ignorance in the wake of what should be a victory - for equality, for male victims of abuse, for survivors. (It also feels like a blow in the wake of four years of Trump and his cult undermining and discrediting the media as they pranced down the yellow brick road to fascism, but I’m not even going to get started on that.)
And I’m just - could people just, like, stoplyingabout absolutely everything? Stop fucking lying. Stop misrepresenting shit. Stop trying to shove a gray world into your narrow-minded black-and-white box so you can feel more comfortable marinating in your own ignorant biases.
IId. The “Perfect Victim”
As I addressed that Johnny is not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, I want to expand on that by referencing this study (which is a fascinating read) re: the credibility of victim testimony in this case, bc it explains - far better than I ever could - that Johnny’s foul language and drug/alcohol problems (which Amber’s defense and, by extension, her supporters - leaned on most heavily to paint the picture of him as a toxic abuser) do not inherently mean he is violent or abusive:
“Of approximately 70,000 text messages exchanged between Mr. Depp and numerous others during his marriage with Ms. Heard, the defendant selected one as evidence that Mr. Depp threatened her. In this message sent to a friend, Mr. Depp wrote, ”…“ Nonetheless, this message was never sent to Ms. Heard, nor was it meant to be seen by her. Apart from the testimony of Ms. Heard, there is no evidence that Mr. Depp had either seriously threatened or intended to commit serious violence againsther.”
*I omitted the text itself bc it’s gross and genuinely appalling to me, but you can easily find it in the study linked, or just online.
Furthermore,
“Although Mr. Depp’s drug and alcohol abuse is consistently documented and therefore this risk factor should be assessed as definitively present, it is noteworthy that beyond Ms. Heard’s allegations, there is no indication of Mr. Depp being confrontational, aggressive, or violent while intoxicated, with any of his previous partners or other persons, in other public or private settings, or during other times in his life. His substance abuse did not seem sufficient to impair his capacity for work, he has no drug-related criminal record, and he has no history of driving under the influence. Moreover, the couple regularly recorded conversations as part of their relationship therapy. Ms. Heard explained “ … they were also a tool to remind Johnny of what he would do when using drugs and alcohol because he would not remember or would deny what he did or said.” However, in the evidence provided, there is no recording that shows Mr. Depp intoxicated, nor committing abuse or exhibiting violent behavior that escalated while intoxicated. In this regard, I consider this risk factor ambiguous. Drug and alcohol abuse is confirmed, but it is totally unclear that it triggers violence in Mr. Depp’s case.”
Note the gaslighting, though - that Amber accuses Johnny of “not remembering” things he supposedly did bc he was “blacked out,” with no supporting evidence that that was ever the case. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it.
(Btw, this study was posted in 2021 - after the UK trial, but before this one, so these conclusions were reached when the public still largely believed Johnny was the abuser, which is maybe irrelevent but I think adds that extra little layer of credibility, in that the author of the study wasn’t being biased or influenced by any pro-Johnny press.)
III. Here’s the Real Tea, Sis; Or, Why I Care.
The media would have the public believe that the trial was unfair, that this is a huge setback for victims everywhere, that this is silencing countless voices and will prevent people from coming forward in the future.
As I said earlier, there’s truth in that, but it’s not bc of Johnny. But the media would also have the public believe that Johnny’s supporters are misogynists, or right-wingers, or just rabid Johnny Depp fangirls. And again, that’s not even remotely close to the truth.
Here’s where I’m coming from. I wasn’t even a Johnny Depp fan before this trial. (I’m not sure I’d even consider myself one now, tbh. Just a sympathizer.) I’m probably more of a Jack Sparrow fan than a Johnny fan, and I’m not even that big of a Jack Sparrow fan. I enjoyed a few of Johnny’s other movies and just generally viewed him as one of the better actors in Hollywood, but I don’t really consider that being a fan.I knew absolutely nothing about this case. I’d heard things here and there about Johnny vs. Amber over the years (I remember the finger incident being talked about a lot a couple of years ago, I think), I thought that we probably weren’t getting the whole story bc Johnny had never seemedlike an abuser, but maybe he was though, and I never thought about it more deeply than that.
What caught my attention: I was killing time at work, and I started watching some of the testimony of Dr. Dawn Hughes, one of Amber’s witnesses (specifically, the psychiatrist who diagnosed her with PTSD), and after watching her being cross-examined for several minutes, I remember thinking, what the fuck kind of psychiatrist is this? Not only were her diagnostic methods being called into question (she didn’t understand the assignment), but she was contradicting herself, making sweeping generalizations that rang false, and just generally coming off as not a credible witness.
“Dr Hughes spends over 20 minutes of direct examination testimony describing various forms of domestic violence. EVERY example she gives uses he/him as the source of abuse and she/her as the target of abuse. She also makes excuses for women who exhibit behaviors that could be called abusive. Her excuses expose a belief that if women yell at, hit, etc their male partner it’s because he’s mean to her. To extrapolate from Dr Hughes’ DV description below, if women are abusive it’s because a man made her do it, and if a man is abusive it’s because he’s bad.” (Source.)
(^^ The above source is a good, thorough breakdown of how Hughes was biased against Johnny bc she doesn’t believe women are ever perpetrators of violence without provocation, which - among other things - undermines her credibility as an “expert witness” for Amber.)
Anyway, this was about three weeks into the trial, and my interest was piqued, so I started watching more attentively. The more interestedI got, the more invested I got. I went back and watched as much as I could from those first three weeks, and then I listened to the audio recordings, and I read the witness statements and most of the testimony from the UK trial, and it all just culminated in this feeling of holy shit, this is fucked up on so many levels.
In other words, everything I know about this case, I have learned in the last 3-4 weeks - but, I learned it thoroughly. And I’m not unique - there are so many people, on Reddit, on Youtube, even on tumblr, who have said they got invested in pretty much the same way. They didn’t know much, if anything, about the case, they started watching bc it was on, and as the evidence kept stacking up against Amber, they got hooked. There were lawyers live-streaming eight hours a day, watching the trial and offering commentary. One lawyer, live-streaming daily, would have literally 125-150 thousand viewers on her stream, many of them chatting, interacting, asking questions.
There were lawyers sitting in the gallery, watching everything first-hand. Hours-long “recap” videos of people examining and talking about the evidence from that day’s court session. Among Johnny’s supporters, there is a metric fuckton of people (myself included) who have invested hours, days, the full six weeks into this trial, and it’s so fucking insulting to have that reduced to “stop getting your information from TikToks, you’re so misinformed.”
Also among Johnny’s supporters are tons and tons of abuse survivors. Survivors of domestic abuse, sexual abuse, gaslighting. Again, myself included.
It’s not really something I talk about on tumblr, bc I just don’t feel the need to and it was a long time ago (and also I have repressed a lot of it so I wouldn’t really even know how to talk about it if I wanted to, but I digress), but for context - I was in an abusive relationship for over two years. I was nineteen/twenty, and didn’t know anything about anything. The abuse was mostly emotional, occasionally physical (but not severely so). A ton of gaslighting. People around me telling me it “wasn’t that bad,” “everyone fights,” when I expressed wanting to leave the relationship. I remember feeling off-kilter all the time, knowing something was seriously fucked up but not truly recognizing the emotional abuse and gaslighting for what it was. So I assumed it was a meproblem, instead, that I was horrible in some way for being so miserable. Eventually I got out but even to this day, once in a blue moon, my mom will bring up that guy and mention it’s a shame it didn’t work out (like maybe she’ll find a picture or something that reminds her, it’s not as random as it sounds), and I’ll say something like, that relationship was toxic and abusive and I hope I never see him again in this life, and she’ll kind of shrug a little, like, well, if that’s how you see it I won’t argue with you. And, I mean, I don’t even know what to do with that, except to say that even to this day, even posting this right now, I feel like, maybe that is just how I see it, maybe it wasn’t abusive at all, maybe it was just a me problem. So.
But even outside of that relationship, I’ve been gaslit. I have had my kindness taken advantage of. I have had lies told about me. I have struggled with addiction and I have mental health issues. I know how it feels, and I have some idea of how Johnnyfeels, and how it all fucks a person up, and I considered that alongside the evidence and landed where I have.
Again, I’m not unique in this. This Reddit thread, for example, is full of people talking about their experiences and their backgrounds - liberals, women, poc, queer people, survivors,malesurvivors, etc. Theseare the people supporting Johnny. And I feel like brushing us off and undermining us and gaslighting us in order to side with Amber, solely because she’s a woman, does farmore damage to domestic violence awareness than Johnny’s win ever could.
And that’s … pretty much how I’m feeling. Happy for the verdict, but hollow as well. Disappointed and sad. Frustrated. Recognizing the victory but feeling like it’s already tarnished by the toxic people who want to take it away.
So, yeah.
Me @ me, posting this:
Some disclaimers:
This was written literally as just a vent - or, at least, it started out that way, but as I said at the top, I started this on the afternoon of the verdict and I’m finishing it almost an entire week later. What started as a vent became just a space for me to really work out, for my own mental clarity, why all of this bothers me so much and why it matters. I don’t expect anyone to be swayed in either direction by this; I don’t expect anyone will even read it, tbh, bc it’s just offensively long. I’m just explaining why this even exists. Basically, this shit is/was living rent-free in my head and it needs to be evicted.
This is all my opinion and my reaction; take it with a grain of salt. As mentioned, the formatting with headers, etc was just my way of keeping the post sensical for me, as I was writing it. I realize it’s probably obnoxious, so, sorry.
I didn’t provide links to Amber’s quotes taken from audio recordings bc they’re all over YouTube and I couldn’t find either transcripts or vids that were cut down to just the portion I was quoting.
Between the day I started this and the day I finished it, tumblr introduced its “turn off reblogs” feature, which is super convenient. I don’t want this reblogged bc a) I don’t think it’s particularly well-written, and b) I shared more personal details about myself that I didn’t really intend to, and I’d just rather not have any of this floating around in the tumblrsphere.
Warnings:Voyeurism, masturbations, sex toys, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, angst, talks of domestic abuse, talks of being held captive, protectiveness, Frankie throwing his rank around a little and it’s sexy, domestic violence, threats of murder.
Comments: Frankie finds that his new neighbor doesn’t close her windows when she’s masturbating. You have moved trying to escape your past and catch the handsome man next door watching you one day, inviting him over in the heat of the moment, a decision that will change your lives.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ’creator chooses not to use warnings’. You also agree that you’re the right age to be consuming anything here.
Frankie had noticed that the ‘FOR RENT’ sign had been taken down next door. Noticed it when he had pulled into the driveway after a long day, noticing that the lights had been turned on, but he hadn’t given it much more thought than that. The need for a beer and a shower urgent. Perhaps a beer in the shower after the day he had. Not noticing that someone was moving around, setting up a home while he opens the door to the house and sighing as he takes his hat off and starts toeing off his boots to let his aching feet breathe.
“Fuck I’m getting old.” He grunts to himself and closes the door, emptying his pockets of keys, wallets, mints and his phone, dumping it all on the entryway table Julia had left when she had moved out two years ago. Hanging up his jacket and pulling his sweaty t-shirt over his head as he walks down the hall towards his bedroom.
Im not celebrating anyones death because I believe in karma (and I also believe that’s what came to snatch his soul). A lot of people are pretending they have no clue why BW are glad he’s gone but they know.
Y’all know why. Stop making ppl feel like shit then wondering why they don’t like you. It’s that simple. This YouTuber summarized his “career” pretty well.
Notes: I mean no disrespect by writing or posting this, and in no way do I take the themes and topics discussed in this series lightly. So if you’re triggered by any of this, I suggest not reading it.
This is an AU of THE WALKING DEAD. So the apocalypse never happened, and everyone’s alive and well. If for any reason I’m getting characters wrong, please let me know and I’ll fix it to the best of my abilities. Also, there will be moments where I’ll come back to do some editing where it’s needed.
Message me or leave an ask if you want to be tagged!
Pairing: Rick Grimes x Reader (she/her pronouns)
Chapter Description: Your anxiety spikes and you wonder if your ex’s harsh words are true.
Warnings: Anxiety attack; mentions/reference to a toxic ex; harsh/abusive talk from a toxic ex; self-doubt; guilt and anxiety; spelling/grammatical errors; whatever else I failed to mention
Additional Info: Y/N = your name | Y/N/N = your nickname | Y/L/N = your last name | Y/E/C = your eye color | Y/H/C = your hair color
You and Lottie spent a fair amount of time in the backyard, playing with Moose and getting more comfortable in each other’s company. The puppy had quickly become a favorite of yours. His innocence, the way he easily worked his way into your heart; you couldn’t imagine life without him after that. Moose was the dog you always wanted, the one your parents and ex refused to get. You’re secretly thanking whatever god is listening that Lottie and her husband got Moose.
After half an hour, Lottie brought Moose inside, you following behind them. Moose immediately went on the couch, throwing himself on his side and throwing the occasional look the sisters’ way. He was excitedly awaiting their company. You waisted no time, sitting beside him as he started sniffing you intensely. After every place he sniffed he’d give a little lick, which made you giggle. Your hands seemed to be his favorite; he quickly abandoned the sniffing and started licking and nibbling your hands and fingers. You giggled again, deciding to rub his head and sides, with Moose giving little huffs and nibbles wherever you rubbed him.
“I think it’s official,” Lottie said, sitting at the other end of the sofa. You looked at her questioningly. “Moose likes you more than me or Max.”
“No,” you shook your head, gently poking the puppy’s side. “I’m sure he loves you guys more.”
“Trust me, he loves you more.” Lottie smiled, watching as her dog played with her sister. “He’s affectionate with Max and I, but he’s not like this.”
“I’m a new person,” you responded. “I’m sure he’s like this with new people.” You gave your sister another questioning look.
She shrugged. “He is a bit more playful with the neighbor’s kid,” she said. “But he’s got a soft spot for girls.”
“Oh,” you said softly. You didn’t know who she was talking about, but nodded anyway. At least he’s good with kids.
“I think you’d like him,” Lottie said.
“Who, the neighbor’s kid?” you asked. Giving your sister a confused glance.
“No, no—sorry.” She chuckled, waving your comment off. “While I’m sure you’d love Carl, I meant his father.” Your confusion didn’t pass. Carl? His father? Lottie quickly continued: “Rick, that’s Carl’s father. Good man. Him and Max are good friends, have been for the last few years. Recently divorced.”
“I don’t understand,” you said slowly. Anxiety started to bubble in your stomach. She’s giving you way too much information on a man you don’t even know. “This sounds like… Why’re you telling me this?”
“So you can make friends,” Lottie replied. “I know moving to a new area can be scary, especially if you don’t know anyone. Rick’s a good man; he’s a cop too, if that helps. Trust me, I think you’d like him.”
“I don’t know.” You shook your head. With your ex, you’d had a few run-ins with the police. Neighbors who’d call if there’d been an argument, only for the cops to not do anything in the end. You’d prayed and wished that they’d see something—how scared you looked, how you wouldn’t talk or look them in the eyes; they never did. Your ex could talk his way out of anything. After a while, you didn’t really trust cops. You were too scared to call them, and those who came due to neighbor intervention always left. It made you feel even more trapped and isolated. And he seemed to pick up on that.
“If you’re not comfortable, that’s fine,” Lottie said, trying for a smile. “We can take our time. There are plenty of nice people here.”
You didn’t respond, looking down at Moose. The puppy had stopped his nibble attack, instead going for resting his head on your lap. You absently rubbed his ear, trying to distract yourself from your rising anxiety.
“How about we watch a movie?” she asked after a moment of tense silence. “Whatever you want.”
You looked up for the briefest moment before glancing down at the dog. “It doesn’t matter to me,” you said, the comment automatic. “Whatever you want to watch is fine.”
With a soft sigh, Lottie nodded. “Give me a minute, I’ll get some snacks ready first.”
You nodded wordlessly. Part of you felt bad, your reaction obviously causing a shift in the general atmosphere. Things had been going well for the last couple hours, but then you had to make it about you again. Running your hands over your face, you close your eyes for a moment. You always seemed to make everything so difficult. It’s not fair to Lottie. Or Max. Or anyone else. It’s your fault. It’s always your fault. Blowing things out of proportion, making everything about you, never being grateful for what you have—maybe Ethan’s right.
You flinch at the thought, at the name. Ethan. The man you spent five years with. The man who made your life a living hell. You could practically hear him in your head, voice condescending and bitter. Angry, loud, cold. Your stomach twisted nauseatingly. Opening your eyes, you looked at the tv in front of you. Your mood had shifted, no longer did you want to be in Lottie’s company. And as much as you enjoyed Moose, you didn’t want to be around him either. You needed space.
“Lottie?” you called, your voice hoarse and thick with emotion.
“Yeah?” she exclaimed. “Everything okay?”
You swallowed thickly. “I, I think I’m going to lay down for a bit. I’m kind of tired.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. You can watch a movie, I just…” Anxiety started to overflow, your voice wavering off mid-sentence. You took a breath to regain your composure. “I need some me time.”
“Okay just, just let me know if you need anything.” Her voice sounded uncertain.
You mumbled out a response before gently moving Moose’s head from your lap. He looked up at you with those big brown eyes. Guilt started to ooze out the longer you looked at the puppy’s face. How could you leave him? Why would you want to? But you needed to. Giving him a final rub and a small smile, you left to your room. Gently closing the door, you sat on the edge of your bed.
Your room didn’t help much. It felt small, like the walls were closing in on you. The air felt thin and your breathing became labored. Your heart was beating so fast it felt about ready to jump out of your chest. Every breath you took sounded like a train, making you wince. Closing your eyes, you tried taking deep breaths. Your hands gripped the edge of the bed, nails digging into the bedding and blankets.
Stop being so dramatic. Ethan’s voice rang in your head, so clear you were almost convinced he was in the room with you. Tears flooded your eyes, a strangled sob escaping your mouth. You always make a big deal out of everything, you know that? You’re so fucking selfish! Everything’s always gotta be about you and your damn feelings. I don’t care about how you feel, do you understand me? So just shut up and dealwithit.
You felt your skin prickle, fear mingling with the overwhelming anxiety. His words continued to bounce around in your head, and everything only got worse. The room suddenly felt like a prison. The air had been knocked out of your lungs. Your head was spinning and your heart was slamming against your ribs. Every fiber in your body was screaming that you’re in trouble, in some kind of danger—get out!
Abruptly standing, you threw your door open and rushed out. You barely registered Lottie as you hurried out the front door, gasping for air like a fish out of water. You leaned forward, your hands resting on your thighs as you desperately tried to steady your breathing. It wasn’t even a minute later that you felt a hand on your back, causing you to jump forward, stumbling to regain your footing. You whirled around to see who’d touched you, trembling and still struggling to breathe.
Lottie stood behind you, worry and fear etched on her face. “Y/N?” she said, her voice quiet but cautious. “What’s wrong? How can I help?”
You could only shake your head, unable to find the words. Lottie had a hand stretched out, hesitant. Her eyes were questioning, asking permission to touch you. You looked down. Lottie put a hand on your shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. Your brain hardly processed what she was doing.
It didn’t take long for the guilt to rear its ugly head. The guilt that maybe you were being selfish, that Ethan was right and you always made everything about you. You couldn’t go one day without causing a scene or blowing things out of proportion.
We did it! Another year, another whumptober complete! It’s totally flown by, andwe managed to do it without either of us ending up in the hospital (a definite win, by our standards). See under the cut for the full list of prompts and links to each post :)
Fao stiffened at his desk, but didn’t say anything. If he didn’t react, maybe Tomas would think he wasn’t home. It was a long shot, but he had to try. It felt childish, to hide. But what else could he do?
“Faolan! I know you’re in there, you stupid fag! You can’t hide from me!” Tomas growled. “You’ve been stealing my cigs, you cunt!”
Fao bit his lip. He knew he shouldn’t take them, hell, he knew he shouldn’t smoke them at all. But there was a thrill to taking them from his uncle, and they really did help him out when he was stressed.
He had so much work to do, his GCSEs looming, that he frankly didn’t have time for Tomas being Tomas. He had pages of maths homework to do, and a French essay he’d not even started yet.
Tomas stopped shouting, and it seemed like he’d forgotten about Fao and the missing cigarettes. Fao managed to do his maths homework, even get halfway through his French essay and was considering going to bed when the door swung open and in burst his uncle.
“You’re gonna pay, you fuckin’ cunt!” He growled, clutching a mostly empty bottle of vodka.
Fao flinched, dropping his pen with a clatter. “Please, I…”
“Please!” Tomas mocked, laughing.
“I’ll buy more!” He protested.
“You’ve done enough, fag.” He slurred.
Despite being drunk, Tomas moved quickly, grabbing Fao and pulling him off of his chair. Fao’s knees scuffed on the floor and his breath caught in his throat. Fao managed to fight back a little then, stronger now than he had been as a younger boy.
But his fighting only served to make Tomas angrier, and after a few kicks to his ribs, Fao was gasping for breath. His side burned, his chest was tight, and he struggled to speak between trying not to cry and trying to stop the room from spinning.
He managed to kick the bottle from Tomas’ hand, thinking it would stop him. But instead, the bottle shattered on the hard wooden floor.
“You always ruin everything! Stupid cunt!” Tomas snapped, grabbing what was left of the bottle. The neck and part of the top were mostly intact, and he closed his fist around it. “I should’ve got rid of you like I did to your Da.”
This time, instead of the kick Fao was waiting for, Tomas pushed the broken bottle into his face and then kicked him to the floor. The glass caught just below his eye, where blood immediately welled up.
Fao cried out in pain, clutching at his face. He curled up on the floor then, surrounded by vodka and broken glass, trying to stop the sobs that escaped him. It was weak to cry. Tomas got angry when he cried.
But he couldn’t help himself. There was blood everywhere, and for a moment he was panicked he couldn’t see. But the world shifted back into focus eventually, and his sobs fell silent. His uncle was gone, apparently satisfied with his punishment.
He knew he needed to move, to get up and go to bed. But he didn’t trust his legs to hold him, and if he made a fuss Tomas might come back. If he didn’t move, and stayed put, maybe he’d be okay. He couldn’t do anything else.
I think the public response to the d*** case is a perfect illustration of what many feminists have been saying for a long time: abuse is primarily a matter of power, not education. there have been so many efforts post-MeToo centered around education–if only men knew what they were doing was wrong they’d stop andif only society knew what abuse looks like we would stop victim blaming women–and now all those teachings are being weaponized against “imperfect” victims.
don’t you know laughing can be a defense mechanism? it doesn’t mean he’s not scared andof course a victim will turn to drugs and alcohol, if you think that makes him violent, you just don’t respect people with addictions andsurvivors often can’t remember things properly so it makes sense that his testimonies contradict each other.
it’s honestly so discouraging because it seems like years of activism has just served as a case study for men to come up with better PR strategies whenever they’re outed as abusers.
Make no mistake, because of the Depp/Heard trial many men are going to realize they can use the courts to continue to abuse their victims. There is going to be a measurable uptick in litigational abuse against women.
When my father used litigational abuse against my mother after she managed to divorce him, it had a devastating impact on our family. We lived in a county where the courts were sympathic to my mom and recognized my father as an abuser, but my mom barely survived. She was a single mom and primary caregiver of two young children. Because of him, she had to pay for lawyers to combat his abuse for overfifteen years. She was below the poverty line and had to borrow money from family members to keep food on the table. My father did not want my mom to escape him without taking his pound of flesh, even if it was at the detriment of his own children.
I mean, this is the day the divorce was filed:
And this is one of the last petitions my dad put against my mom, asking that she no longer receive child support- even though he was thousands of dollars behind bc of outright refusal to pay and he still hasn’t paid because my mom simply doesn’t have the resources to go to the courts for help. (funnily enough, five days after my 18th birthday)
Between these two dates (and some time after), there are hundreds of petitions and motions my dad submitted to the court to financially and litigationally abuse my mother. Even if those motions ruled in my mom’s favor, she had to 1.) go to a lawyer 2.) take time off work and find childcare 3.) go to the courthouse and face her abuser when he was at his most vile and vindictive
It is hell for victims and an ego-trip for abusers, because they have the support of the legal system. The Depp/Heard case is nothing more than a tutorial for abusive men to continue thier abuse. Marilyn Manson (Depp’s bestie, mind you) is already engaging in litigational abuse against Evan Rachel Wood.
Until the Depp/Heard case, my parents’ was the only case of litigational abuse I was aware of. It is geniunely cruel and nothing more than the message: You will never escape. I may not live in your house, but I still have power over you. I still have power over your finances, you personal life, your trauma, and your children.
He wasn’t sure how it happened. He didn’t know why he ever got that way. It wasn’t like him. It wasn’t fair to you. Your decision was honestly the best, and he’d live with it. The nights were sleepless, and full of alcohol, at least at first. He tried to act as if nothing was wrong, and that it didn’t matter. So when he found himself in the place he met you, he told himself you’d never be there. You weren’t even though his eyes searched for you. They always did, it was instinctive. He downed another drink, and asked for another. The song that played struck him.
After fleeing your abusive husband and changing your name, you find yourself in the small coastal town of July, North Carolina. Soon you meet Frankie Morales, Air Force Veteran and single dad. As the two of you grow closer, you begin to let go of your past and learn to love again. That is until a strange man shows up in town, and you ’re forced to choose between your safety or the safety of the people that you love.
The gentle spring breeze sent the smell of flowers down the corridor of the grand marble building. There were hundreds of them, Ben’s wife had done an amazing job putting this all together. The ceremony took place in the courtyard of the banquet hall and now you stood watching as people filtered into another room for the cocktail hour.
Lucy had looked absolutely adorable as the flower girl; the big frilly blue dress appealing to her sense of style.
You were happy for them, Ben and his wife, but you couldn’t help but feel a little sad as well.It had been a year now but the aftershocks were still strong as ever. You had been seeing a therapist, but you knew a grieving cycle as complex as this one took time.
David’s death had lifted a huge burden off your shoulders, you didn’t even realize just how big until someone came in and told you the news. You cried in the hospital bed, weeped like a child, for hours. Santiago was there, he stayed by your side the whole time, sitting silently and allowing you to move through all these emotions.
“Champagne for the pretty lady,” a voice said, snapping you out of your daydream.
You turned to see Frankie striding up to you with a glass in hand, looking as handsome as ever in his suit and tie.
“Aren’t you supposed to be taking photos right now” you asked, smiling and allowing him to pass you the champagne flute.
Frankie had been the one to save your life that day. Even with two bullet wounds, one to the shoulder and the other to the abdomen, he had been the person who fired the shot that brought David down. The surgery took hours, but Frankie managed to pull through and make a really substantial recovery. He had a few minor issues still, but nothing life threatening.
The story ended up making headline news. Some other evidence of David’s misdoings came out in the weeks after as well. Frankie and the others were never charged with anything related to the incident. You weren’t either. The best of all however, was that Summer had gotten her name back. Summer’s family reached out to you via letter, they did not hold any ill will towards you at all. They were glad that their daughters’ last doings on this earth was helping a woman in a similar situation. They said they would continue to pray for you, and keep you in their thoughts.
Frankie looped his arm around your waist and pulled you in. “They don’t need us right now, besides I haven’t seen you all day. I wanted to get a good look at you in that dress” he smiled.
You rolled your eyes, setting the flute down the little foyer table next to you then reaching up to adjust his tie.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, lowering his voice a little.
You let out an amused huff but didn’t look up at him “about the wedding, and how nice it is.”
He nodded, knowing you had more to say.
“I think” you went on, “maybe we could bring it up next week in couples counseling. I feel like I might be coming around to the idea of marriage again. With you, at least. ….What do you think?” You asked, giving him a little grin as you looked up at him.
“I think that it definitely sounds like something worth bringing up… and I would have to look into the legality of it all, but even if it never happens, as long as I am with you I’m happy.” He leaned forward and gave you a soft kiss.
Santi’s voice came bellowing through the corridor. “Fish - make out with your girlfriend later we have shit to do.”
“I’m being summoned” Frankie laughed, “I’m glad you feel that way though.”
You smiled and patted him on the chest “me too, now go, I’ll see you in a bit. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said, turning on his heels.
You watched him go, smiling and picking up your glass. You drew in a slow and steady breath feeling the breeze from outside shuffle the fabric of your dress a little. Lucy’s bright laughter came floating through the hallway. There was a time in your life where you never thought any of this would be possible, that you would be happy again, but you were… and for that you were so proud.
After fleeing your abusive husband and changing your name, you find yourself in the small coastal town of July, North Carolina. Soon you meet Frankie Morales, Air Force Veteran and single dad. As the two of you grow closer, you begin to let go of your past and learn to love again. That is until a strange man shows up in town, and you ’re forced to choose between your safety or the safety of the people that you love.
You tried pulling at the metal rod the cuff was attached to. Even with decades of rust, it didn’t budge. You moved onto your back, grinding your teeth and using your legs to push off against the radiator with all your might. Still, nothing came loose.
‘Focus’ you told yourself, looking around the room.
It was pitch black, only the silhouette of the door frame was visible. You were reminded about the day you pulled Lucy from the water, how dark it was, how quiet. Like suspended in ether. That’s what it felt like now, being underwater.
You stretched your arm out as far as it could go and searched around for anything you could use to break the chain on the cuff. When you realized there was nothing of use around you, you pulled on the cuff again. Then spit on your wrist and rubbed your saliva around your skin.
You braced yourself, drawing in a quick breath and yanking as hard as you could. Even with all that force, the cuffs didn’t move an inch. Desperate now, and you got onto your knees and smoothed your hands along the floorboards. Fingers scanning for a catch or a dip in the wood.
A gasp escaped your lips as you felt one. Quickly you wiped the soot off your fingers, gripped the nail between your thumb and pointer, then jimmied it upwards.
Inch by inch, you pulled, readjusted and pulled again, repeating that process until you got enough of the nail exposed to grip it with your fist and yank it out. It ripped from the floor much easier than you had expected, flying out of your bloody hands and skidding across the floor.
You drew in a shaky breath, swallowing hard. You were okay. If it was out of your reach, you would simply find another. You had time. You were going to be okay.
You turned, stretching your arm as far as it could go and feeling around for the nail. Your fingers just grazed the edge, you held your breath and reached even more. When you got hold of it you walked it up slowly until you could pick it up.
You took the nail and placed it in your mouth, the taste of rust bitter against your tongue. You took the nail between your teeth and brought it up to the keyholes on the cuff. You had actually practiced this at the house for an entire day once. David had left the cuffs behind and you thought it might save your life one day.
Headlights shone through the cracks of the house. You looked up just as they darted across the wall and grew larger by the second.
“Fuck fuck Fuck,” you whispered, the nail firmly still in your mouth.
You didn’t think you would make it in time. You felt hopeless. You knew you were going to die.
Then finally, a click.
The cuff came apart in your hand. David’s flashlight shone against the wall, and you could hear his footsteps treading through the house. You turned away, body blocking your hands, heart racing so fast you could hear it thumping in your ears. You waited, nail clutched so tightly in your hand you could hardly feel the tips of your fingers anymore.
David came in then tossed something towards you, a pregnancy test. He would kill you in an instant, but a baby was something that shared half of his DNA. You were his object, but that baby, if there was a baby, was an extension of himself.
“You don’t believe me?” you asked.
“No, I don’t,” he said simply. You could tell by his tone you were really starting to push his buttons.
You lifted your head, looking up at him. “I need two hands if you’re really going to make me do it here.”
He thought for a moment, eyes scanning you. Then he moved forward, crouching down in order to undo the cuffs.
You seized this opportunity, taking the nail and driving it into his shoulder. David reeled backwards, falling and crying out in pain. You didn’t wait to see the damage you inflicted. The moment he jerked back, you were on your feet, sprinting into the darkness.
You heard a shot ring out behind you, then another, closer this time. You pushed on harder despite the terrain, stumbling and having to brace yourself on tree trunks each step of the way. You didn’t know where you were going, you just knew you had to get away. To your right, you heard water.
The moon was coming out, casting a thin veil of silver across the landscape. It was the lake, the one Frankie had taken you to. Your mind raced as it tried to establish some sort of mental map to help guide you.
Then, without warning, you felt the pull of your hair jerking you backwards.
-
Frankie heard the shots. They were closer than expected. He felt hopeful. David didn’t have to shoot something that was already dead. That hope was short-lived, however, when he realized the gunfire ceased, meaning one of those bullets must have hit its mark. Frankie grit his teeth, hoping that the boys had made it, and heard the shots as well.
He needed you to be alive. All of this was his fault. If he hadn’t kicked you out, you would have been safe. Instead, you were here, with the very man Frankie had vowed to protect you from. He knew that forgiveness was unlikely, but even if you never spoke to him again, it would be okay, just as long as you were alive.
He heard a large splash and all at once the trees opened up to reveal a rundown house and the glow of red tail lights. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but once they did, Frankie felt a jolt of horror when he realized there was a car slowly sinking itself into the inky darkness of the lake. Next to that stood the figure of a man, watching. Frankie raised his gun and squeezed off two shots. The figure ducked away, firing two shots of his own before fleeing in the direction of the house.
Frankie’s first instinct was to follow, but when he saw the taillights of the vehicle vanish completely below the surface he knew he couldn’t just leave you. If there was even a chance you could be alive he would take it. He started towards the lake, ripping off his jacket and diving into the water.
It was freezing cold, and full of debris from the storm. Visibility was low but the lights in the car were still functional.
He grabbed onto the side of the car and pulled himself forward. The front of the vehicle had already settled onto the bottom of the lake. Frankie could see you through the windows laying in the back seat, arms floating above you, eyes closed and mouth slightly ajar.
He used the end of the gun to strike at the corner of the window, a spider web crack pattern formed instantly. He did it once more and the pieces came apart freely. His lungs burned but he pushed on, he had already lost so much time he couldn’t afford to lose anymore.
He reached into the cabin and snaked an arm around your chest, as soon as he had a firm grasp on you he kicked off against the metal of the car and swam desperately to the surface. He broke through the surface and pulled your head above water, taking in large gulps of air and bracing himself for any attacks David might have been waiting to inflict.
Your head fell against his cheek, and that’s when he realized that you were still warm. He reached the bank of the lake in a matter of seconds and laid you out on the sand.
He gave you two breaths and started chest compressions. It was hard to feel in moments like this, he was scared yes - but he didn’t have access to it, not yet anyway. There would be time for feelings later. He heard you choke and turned you over on your side, allowing you to vomit up the water from the lake.
He pulled you up, cradling you in his arms and rubbing your back as you gulped up air.
The fact that you are still alive was nothing short of a miracle, his brain couldn’t even process it yet. He heard a voice and realized it was his own, cooing into your ear, telling you that you were safe now and everything was going to be alright.
There was a loud bang.
The sound caused your ears to ring so loud you brought your hands up to block your ears. Everything felt so cloudy, like the world wasn’t moving fast enough. Reality didn’t feel tangible anymore, your life felt like something you were watching yourself take part in from above rather than be an active participant in. All you wanted to do was lay down and shut your eyes.
You were vaguely aware of a hand coming up and wrapping itself in your hair, pulling you from the ground to a standing position.
“You just don’t know when to fucking die do you?” David’s voice hissed in your ear.
A light in the distance caught your attention, it was moving towards you. Even Though David was quite intoxicated, his reflexes were much faster than yours, he maneuvered you around so that your back was flat against his chest, and placed the barrel of the gun against your head.
A voice spoke, and you recognized it as Santiago’s, “It’s over, put the gun down.”
Two more lights emerged from either side of the lake.
David stood, swaying a little as he held you.
There was not an ounce of humanity left in his voice as he spoke “did you let them fuck you all at once or just pass you around on different nights? Jesus, I can’t believe I ever loved a whore like you.”
There was another shot, and for a few breathless seconds you thought you were dead. Eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds go by each day and nobody bats an eye, but those seconds seemed to last a lifetime. All you could think about was David’s words - love, love I can’t believe I ever loved a whore like you.
You had experienced anger before, resentment even, but the feeling that coursed through you now was none of those. This was something deeper, something so base and animalistic your body moved without any conscious effort. David had fallen, pulling you to the ground with him.
You pulled yourself up, took hold of a river rock lying next to you on the sand, crawled on top of your husband and sank the rock into his forehead. Then again, and again, and again.
“You didn’t fucking love me” you shouted “That was never love. I was the one that loved, that cared - for the both of us. You hurt me and I stayed because I wanted you to love me so badly. I wanted a life with you and you took that away from us! You! I wish I never fucking met you.”
An arm came around your torso and pulled you away. In the moonlight you could see the husk of flesh that was once David’s face, laying there motionless on the ground.
“He’s dead, he’s dead Summer. You’re okay, you’re okay.” It was Ben’s voice, strong and unwavering as ever.
You felt lightheaded as Ben’s face came into your vision, he was speaking but you couldn’t hear a word of it. You turned your head to see the rest of the men surrounding Frankie who was lying motionless on the sand.
“No, no “ you muttered, trying to pull yourself up but being held back by Ben.
After fleeing your abusive husband and changing your name, you find yourself in the small coastal town of July, North Carolina. Soon you meet Frankie Morales, Air Force Veteran and single dad. As the two of you grow closer, you begin to let go of your past and learn to love again. That is until a strange man shows up in town, and you ’re forced to choose between your safety or the safety of the people that you love.
Frankie had to stop himself from driving to your house to apologize for most of the day. He should have been more sympathetic to your position and refrained from getting defensive. Of course, that was going to scare you and, of course, you were going to lash out as a result. Everything he had said about trusting you was clearly a lie. You had been very forthcoming about your past, even if you were still anxious. You had trusted him enough to keep putting yourself in uncomfortable situations. He couldn’t even be forthcoming with just one secret.
This fight had highlighted how broken the two of you actually were. Frankie didn’t realize it himself until he started caring for you. The fear of abandonment embedded so deep inside of him he forgot it was there. His instinct was to hold on tight and not let go, and yours was to run. It was tragically ironic. Still, Frankie was hopeful the two of you could find a safe haven in the middle.
While at the bar, he had heard the power on your side of town had gone out and he knew you must have been scared all by yourself. When the five of them got back to his house, Frankie asked the guys to watch Lucy so he could go pick you up and bring you back - or at the very least pay for a hotel for the night.
There was nobody on the roads as he drove. It was unnerving, like a scene from a horror movie; just darkness stretching on for miles. The rain was still coming down hard and visibility was almost non-existent.
Tires came to a stop as Frankie pulled up to your house. He kept the car on, headlights pointed at the door as he ascended the steps. He knocked and called out your name, but nobody answered.
Not caring about the rain, he turned on his cell phone flashlight and went around back, peaking into the sliding glass door. He called for you again, still nothing. The house was empty.
Multiple scenarios raced through his mind in a matter of seconds. Maybe you didn’t make it home and were picked up by somebody on the way. Maybe you were at the diner waiting for the power to come back on, but if that were the case, you would have surely come to his door when you saw him pull up with the Jeep.
Or maybe you had left like you said you would.
Maybe, he had been wrong about you after all and you weren’t some new start in life. You were simply a con, one who had used him and his daughter and Frankie had let you because his desire to be loved outweighed all logic.
He was more mad at himself than at you. If he could have just sat down and explained that trip to you….sometimes it felt like the money was cursed. First Tom, then Katie… and now you. If Frankie knew then just how much damage that trip would have cost him, he would have never agreed to go.
He made his way around to the car and got back in the driver’s seat, slamming the door and staring at the house.
What was he going to tell Lucy? Ever since you had come into their lives, he had seen a shift in her. She was brighter and more confident than she had been in so very long. He would have to tell her at some point, and he knew it would crush her.
He was at a loss for what to do. He didn’t want to move the car, because despite all of this, he didn’t believe it. He didn’t believe you would leave. It had to be something else.
He sat back and adjusted the cap on his head, his hair soaked from the rain. It was then the screen on the car lit up, Will’s caller ID and ringtone coming through the speakers. Frankie accepted the call.
“Fish?” Will asked.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Lucy, hold-on” there was shuffling on the line, then the little girl’s voice came through. “Daddy?”
“Hi Lulu, you okay?” Frankie asked.
“Where are you?”
Frankie put the car in reverse and turned his head to back out of the driveway. “I was at the store getting batteries in case the power goes out.”
“Oh.”
“Why, are you okay?” Frankie asked again.
“Yes- I think you should invite Miss Summer over too. That way, the bad guys can’t get her and she’ll be safe.”
Frankie pressed on the brake so hard it made the car lurch a few inches. “What?”
“The bad guys,” Lucy said.
“What bad guys?” Frankie asked.
“The ones the police are trying to catch.”
If there had been a convict on the loose in July, everybody in town would know about it.
Frankie shook his head, “who told you about the bad guys?”
Lucy took an impatient breath. “The policeman in the restaurant.”
“The-” In an instant, all the pieces clicked into place. It felt as though someone had shot him in the chest and knocked all the breath out of him at once. “Lulu?”
“Yeah?”
“Put Uncle Will on the phone.”
Frankie threw the car in drive and hit the gas so hard it spit up gravel behind him.
Will’s voice came through the line. “Yeah?”
“Listen to me, don’t ask questions. I need you to get Lucy to the people across the street in the motel, then I need you to go into the shop, in my office there is a safe - Lucy’s birthday take it all and meet me at Barnwell State Park, you can find it in maps, I need you to go now. I’ll explain it all later.”
Frankie hung up the phone, turned his high beams on and pushed the pedal down as far as it would go.
-
David had put the radio on, but the station was out of range and all that came through was static and the occasional sentence fragment. The windshield wipers were on high, sliding against the glass at a rhythmic pace. You saw floaters dancing around your vision as you opened your eyes, not really registering everything that had happened until a few seconds after you came too. The realization was painful. You wished you could have stayed shrouded in that ignorance.
You sat up just as he pulled off the road and onto a gravel path. You realized quickly that your wrist was bound to the door by his handcuffs. Your gaze shifted to the front part of the cabin and the gun resting barrel down in the cup holder on the central console.
“David,” you said, “are we going home?”
David reached over and took another swig from the water bottle, but said nothing.
“David please,” you said, your hand coming to rest hesitantly on his shoulder then sliding towards the base of his neck. “I made a mistake, and I didn’t know how to come back from it. I missed you. I’ve spent every day missing you.”
David’s hand shot up, grabbing your wrist and jerking it away. A flash of pain shot up your arm. You needed something else. Something that would stop him for a moment, just long enough to allow you a window of escape.
You sat back against the seat, the throbbing in your head coming to plague you once more. You weren’t sure how long it was before the car stopped and he got out. Time didn’t feel like it was moving at a real speed anymore. You flinched as he threw open the door, the gun in his right hand, the handcuff key in his left.
He kneeled down beside you, setting the gun on the floor. You watched as he unlocked the cuff from the door. Once that was finished, he took you by the waist and yanked you to a standing position.The boot on your foot acted as an anchor, weighing you down so much you couldn’t run. You would have to find some way to get that off too.
You felt the barrel of the gun press against your lower back and urge you forward.The further you went into the woods, the less chance you had of walking out alive. You walked on, pretending to trip, and hit the ground hard. It hurt, but not as much as your head did. You drew in a sharp breath and willed yourself to cry. It was harder said than done, but once the floodgates opened, there was no stopping them. You sat up pathetically and brushed gravel off your hands.
David sighed impatiently, coming up in front of you, taking the boot off your foot and discarding it to the side.
“David,” you whimpered, looking up at him with big round eyes. “I left because I felt guilty. I felt guilty that I couldn’t give you a baby and I couldn’t make us a family. I know you wanted one so badly and I know how much it pained you to keep taking me to appointments and going on medication. You deserved more from your wife. So I left because I wanted you to be happy and I wanted to stop hurting you.”
David was looking at you, his expression unreadable.
You continued on, “but as soon as I got here I missed my period and then another, and I went to CVS to buy one of those tests and - and”
David’s eyes scanned your body. The weight you had gained was something David had noticed as soon as he touched you at your house. He attributed it to all the deep fried shit they tried to pass for food in the south….but not a baby.
A baby….
No, no, you were messing with him. This was another con. You didn’t look pregnant, but a lot of women didn’t show for a long time. How far along would you have been? Four, almost five months? It was certainly plausible.
He spoke up, his voice trembling, “if you’re lying to me-”
“I’m not,” you said quickly, pulling yourself up on your knees so you could face him. “I promise David, I haven’t slept with anybody else. Nobody. Even the thought of it just makes me sick. I love you. I wanted to go back. As soon as I knew the baby would be okay, I was going to go back. That way you wouldn’t have to suffer if…” you let your words trail off, allowing him to fill in the rest.
David had a knack for knowing when people were lying. He drew in a long breath and stood, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
You could tell he was thinking, weighing his options. You reached for him, but he reeled back and used the butt of his gun to hit you across the cheek, catching your nose on the side. For a moment, it felt like your right eye was going to pop from its socket. The blood was instant, tasting like metal as it dripped into your mouth.
He took you by the hair and hauled you to your feet, forcing you to stand and using the barrel of his gun to march you forward again. You were panicking now. All your options were slowly crumbling one by one.
David clicked on his flashlight and in the distance, a little way down an edge of trees, stood a dilapidated house. It must have been there for years, judging by the state of it. He helped you down the slope that led to the clearing and kicked the door in with his foot. It tore from the wall easily, the wood splintering as it fell.
He hauled you inside and down a hallway. Each step you took caused the floorboards to crack beneath your feet like a thin layer of ice atop a newly frozen lake. You weren’t sure if there was a basement, but you didn’t really want to find out. The room he pulled you into must have been a bedroom once. The dim glow of his flashlight illuminated an old dresser backed up against the wall, across from it was a metal bed frame, the mattress was nothing more than a pile of brown rot on the floor where animals had come and pulled it apart for nesting material.
He led you forward towards a rusted metal radiator in the corner, then shackled you to the object. Then he turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” You asked “Baby please, David please, I’m scared.”
He looked at you, shook his head, and walked out of the room.
“David! David!”
-
Frankie raced down the sodden back roads, unsure of his intended destination. He knew there were two official entrances to the park and two unofficial roads that lead to the networks of fire breaks woven throughout the forest. He also knew that David wasn’t stupid enough to park his car at a main entrance. There would be security cameras, so that narrowed down access points. The park wasn’t too large either, a few hundred acres. With each of the boys taking a point of access, it wouldn’t be too hard to find you.
Or at least that’s what Frankie kept telling himself to avoid confronting the almost certain possibility that you were already dead.
When he found David, because he would, the plan he had in store for that useless piece of shit topped anything he had done in all his years enlisted. Frankie would not come back from this one, and that was okay with him.
