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To everyone who watched this movie and gave it a low rating, this is NOT a movie for PC snowflakes. And if you’re one of those people trying to put a woke lens onSilent, you can take your so-called empowerment and cram it up your pussy hat. This is NOT a feminist film. What would even make you think that? It’s a softcore porn movie about a nasty psycho bitch who lures men in, fucks them, and then kills them. You were not created as the audience in mind for this film.
Also, some people are calling the sex in this movie “rape” and saying it’s a “rapesploitation” film, but that’s an exaggeration. There’s no actual rape. It’s clear that Ivy wants it, even if it’s just a means to an end, and the sex is so hot, it’s worth dying for. Although that just made me wonder why one of the guys didn’t just tie the bitch up so she couldn’t go for the knife or the pliers while they were doing her rough. So dumb. You can tell by the way she looks at the camera when she takes her clothes off in front of that window that she’s a tease: a cold-blooded killer with big tits and a pretty face that lures men in like a Venus flytrap. But that’s Hollywood for you. They think pussy makes guys dumb. Calling this psycho bitch a “victim” really just shows how desperately these people look for their martyrs.
Update:Who the fuck are you to call me a “rape apologist,” udontevenknow79? If the director didn’t want to leave it up to debate, he would have explicitly shown it as rape. And lol @ “you don’t know how triggering your comments are to victims, you dickless shitheel creep.” Name-calling is real mature. But I guess that’s the “tolerant left” for you.
P.S. I hope you get raped, since you seem so obsessed with it.
Posted by RedPillReviews
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Chapter Thirteen
Drag Her Down to Hell
When Donni woke up the next morning, the sun hadn’t come up yet. She thought about curling back beneath the still-warm sheets and going to sleep, but there was too much to do. Nobody cared that she might be grieving; they only cared that she was doing it on their dime.
She stretched and then groaned as her muscles protested.
She was naked beneath the sheets. Her hair had dried into a flattened, matted shape (don’t think about that). She knotted the whole mess into a bun, wincing a little at how tangled it was (don’t think about that, either).
After pulling on another black pajama set from Calida and her dead husband robe, she grabbed a box of random decorations from her closet that she had filled with random bits and bobs that she’d bought from the local craft store on clearance after last Halloween. Using the kitchen counter, she began to put together a little display for the Halloween-themed lipsticks she’d been sent to post about. October was her most lucrative month and always had been. Sometimes it felt like it was the only time of the year people actually remembered she existed.
There was something a little depressing about living her life for the past. It was hard not to think about what could have been. All she had needed was a biopic, a period film, a book-to-movie adaptation of some sad male author’s existential ennui.Somethingto pierce the veil between pulp and respectable cinema. Instead, she’d been blacklisted, nipped in the bud before she had a hope of blossoming. Men like Johnathan Steel mowed girls like her down and spat them out.
Difficult to work with, they said of her.A diva. She knew who was really saying those things and why, but attacking an actress’s credibility was a cruelly brilliant move. If you successfully painted a woman as hysterical, even rational defenses of one’s own character started to look more like delusional thinking.
Rafe came down as she was tidying up the mess of orange garland and sequined confetti. It gave her a nasty start, because she half-expected to see Marco there, standing in his unbelted robe.
Marco is dead, she reminded herself, but the thought didn’t make her as guilty as it should have. Whatdidmake her guilty was remembering what she and his son had done in the pool together, and how he had carried her to her bed afterwards before doing it again.
A hot flush suffused her body. What had he been doing out so late, anyway? Who had he gone to see, all dressed up like that? And why had he looked like he hadn’t wanted to be seen?
“Hey.” His eyes flicked to hers and stayed there for a beat but Donni couldn’t see any suspicion in them. Even if she harbored suspicions about his status as a murder suspect, they didn’t appear to be shared by him.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked, watching him closely.
“Like a rock.” The lie came swiftly from his lips, which curled faintly. This smile reached his eyes, as so few of them did. Those weren’t the eyes of a man who had stayed out all night burning the midnight oil, which made them the eyes of a studied liar, instead. “Are you wearing lipstick?”
“It’s for an ad.” She grabbed a paper towel and blotted her mouth. “That’s how I make most of my money these days,” she added. “From doing ads.”
“Really?” He rubbed at his face tiredly, which caused a ripple of movement along the muscles of his abdomen.Liar, liar, liar, she thought, turning her attention to the box. “Does that pay well?”
“It pays enough.”
“For all this? For legal fees?” He lowered his hand dubiously. “If you need money, I can give you some.”
Donni stared at the tub of decorations. The fact that she had considered his wealth when first reaching out to him didn’t make her feel like any less of a whore. What made it even worse was the thought that he might see her that way, too. That this might even be his way of compensating her for the inconvenience of a late-night fuck.
“I thought you were alreadygiving me some,” she said coolly, wanting him to rise to the bait so she could hate him that much more freely. “Isn’t that what this is about?”
He folded his arms. “I didn’t realize how badly you were struggling.”
“I’m not struggling.”Liar. “I don’t want your money, Rafe.”
“That’s not what you said on the phone.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “I don’t want any handouts, then.”
