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Spiral farm full movie movies. The fact that the Oscars doesn't have a host isn't great for Parasite. They said the black widow movie would be the dark mcu film. wasn't expecting this dark tho. It was a beautiful day in North Dakota. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and I had just puked all over myself. Again. You’d think that after fifteen years of living with chronic illness, I’d be used to my body. But no, cystic fibrosis has a mind of its own. The worst thing? As I lay in bed, my stupid bag IV bag was blocking the view of my gymnastics medals and trophies. Not that I stood any shot of making the team this year. Freshman year I was considered a protégée; this year I’m the freak who fell asleep in the locker room. That’s CF— one minute I feel superhuman (or at least human), but the next minute I feel so tired I can barely run through my routines. Then we have today. I’m fairly certain I’m not going to survive long enough to compete for a spot on the competition roster. My head pounded as the sunlight hit my eyes. “Sara, I need you! ” Like magic, Sara was already pulling the blankets off my body. “I’m here Sean, I’m here, ” she said as she loaded my blankets into a laundry bag. “I think we need to get you to the hospital. ” “No, please. Just give me a few more days on the IV. ” “Sean, it’s been over a week. Your fever has only gotten worse. ” I began to cry, sobbing into my pillow. All I ever wanted was to feel normal in my own skin. Because being normal comes with happiness, right? I wanted to fall in love, I wanted to get married, maybe even have a family. I kicked my IV just enough to see my trophies: evidence of the alternate reality version of myself. There was a photo of me in freshman year, on the rings. Even with my long hair whipping all over my face, I nailed my gymnastics routine like a rock star. I was the youngest person to ever win an individual gold at the state level. I wiped tears from my eyes as Sara handed me a clean shirt. Who am I kidding? I’m going to die alone in a hospital bed. “Don’t cry. ” Sara kissed my cheek. “You know, with how light your eyes are, you look like an ice-zombie. ” “What? ” I instantly perked up. Sara always knew how to make me smile. “Once we get to the hospital, I want to braid your fairy-princess hair. ” I laughed. For the record, I do not have fairy-princess hair. I have surfer hair, long blonde waves that cascade down my back. Hair destined for a dive into the Pacific Ocean. Sometimes when I’m in the shower I’ll stand under the flow, letting the water wash over my face. In my mind I’m in California, emerging from beneath the waves. I look nothing like Sara, my remarkable sister. I like to call her my twin since we’re the same age—not that we have anything in common, beyond sharing a room. I’m six-foot tall, which doesn’t help much when your sport of choice is gymnastics. I have my meds to thank for that; for the first fourteen years of my life I was prescribed human growth hormones to give my sick body a fighting chance. While my adorable, amazing sister was a brilliant science nerd, destined to change the world. I was snapped back to reality by a coughing fit. I could feel the mucus trying to come out, but my lungs were seizing up. I reached for my inhaler. The medicine helped relax my lungs enough to take in air, but now the room was spinning. “Sara, I don’t think I can make it out of bed. ” Sara was already gone. She quickly returned with our mother, who lifted me out of bed and helped me to the door. “Sara, disconnect his IV, make note of how much is left in the bag, and then I need you to grab my keys and start the car. ” I kind of passed out just as we got going, but at least I was lying with my head in Sara’s lap. That was about as comfortable as I was going to get. She was cradling my head in her arms. Although small, my sister was always my hero. She could do it all: administer IVs; monitor my blood sugar; and even perform chest physiotherapy to loosen the mucus in my lungs. Mom was brave, too. She always had been, from the day she’d chosen to adopt an abandoned baby with CF. Then having to raise us on her own when Dad died on a disaster relief trip to the Philippines. I could feel Sara stroking my face. I looked up to see tears in her eyes. With fifteen years of caring for me, my illness affected her as much as it affected me. I tried to cheer her up. “So, are you going to braid my fairy-princess hair? ” She gave me a weak grin. “Let’s hold off on that until you get a bed. ” Less than an hour later, I was admitted to the ICU. I couldn’t stop coughing. The port on my side was reopened in an attempt to drain my lungs manually. I had to be put on oxygen and blood thinners to relieve the pressure in my chest. I’m told that the fever spiked into brain damage territory. My antibiotic levels were adjusted: different amounts, different combinations. The nurse brought in a blanket that appeared to be made of hundreds of cold packs fused together. On the third night in the ICU, the dreaded words “breathing tube” were mentioned. I hated breathing tubes. They were unbearably painful and made it impossible to speak. I grabbed Mom’s hand. “Please, I can fight this. You know I can. I just need you to believe in me. ” I wanted so badly to get out of bed. I wanted to get back to training, to feel the burn of strength in my muscles. To feel my body pushing itself towards greatness, not just to survive. Hell, freshman year I trained and competed with a fractured wrist and three bruised ribs after getting the living crap kicked out of me. That was how bad-ass I could be when CF wasn’t hijacking my body. Mom turned to the doctor. “What are the other options? ” The tall, elderly man looked confused. “I strongly recommend a breathing tube, just until we can get the fever stabilized. ” That was the easy answer for him; put the kid on a breathing tube and come back to him later. And I sure as fuck did not want to be tethered to a machine. The way I figured it, the fewer machines I was reliant on, the faster I was going to recover. I wanted to get back to training or I wanted to die. I had little use for the gray area in between. Mom shook her head vigorously. “No. Put him under sedation. It’ll give his body a chance to rest. ” “With all due respect, Mrs. Foster—” “You listen to me—that boy is more than numbers on a chart. ” “I know this is difficult—” “He’s my son! ” She squeezed my hand. Sara was already holding my other hand. “Sean’s on full oxygen and he’s still breathing on his own. I’m choosing to have faith in him. ” The doctor quietly left the room. Mother kissed my forehead. “I love you. And I’ll always believe in you. ” The next day, the fever went down to a better, yet still unsafe level. I suffered a seizure due to lack of oxygen to my brain, prompting the doc’s insistence on a breathing tube. That, or a tracheotomy. I was strong, but would not survive the ordeal unscarred. Mother looked to Sara. “Tracheotomy, ” Sara quickly answered. The doctor would be cutting a hole in my throat, inserting a tube that would attach to a ventilator and function as an alternative means of supplying oxygen to my weakened lungs. The process would be much more invasive and painful, but at least I would still be able to speak. By my eighth day in the hospital, I was too weak to remain conscious for more than few hours a day. My lungs were failing and if the infection spread to my heart, I could very well be dead in a few months. I stared at the ceiling, trying not to think about the ache in my throat or the pounding in my head. I seemed a little dead from the neck down. A soft snore made me look to Sara. She was slumped in the seat by my bed with a book resting on her lap. I couldn’t make out the title, but it looked science-y and intimidating. She’d been with me all week, having been given permission by her school to study at the hospital. It seemed to take minutes of effort to coordinate my arm muscles, but I managed to reach over and nudge her awake. “Go to school tomorrow, please. ” “Why? ” she whispered. “I want stay with you. I want to be by your side when you get out of this bed. That’s the way it’s always been! ” “Go to school, ” I repeated. I knew what she meant. Whenever I was hospitalized, she was always by my side. “It’s not worth it for you to stay. ” I didn’t dare look in her direction. She gripped my hand. “I have nothing to look forward to at school. You’re all I have. ” I sighed. Sadly, she was probably correct. Her vigilance in caring for me didn’t exactly do much for her social life. “Maybe a miracle will be waiting, ” I said as I yanked my hand away, a little ruder then I should have. “Or maybe you’ll die in your sleep. ” Sara took a deep breath, shook her head, and left the room. The next day, Sara didn’t show up at nine as usual, which was good— it meant she’d probably gone to school. Playing hooky was like sacrilege to her. Some part of me saw this as God throwing me a life line. A little after five she scampered in, taking a seat on the plastic chair by my bed. “Sean, are you awake? ” “Is that my miracle? ” I asked motioning my head to the doorway, which framed a tall, supermodel-like silhouette. Sarah turned my room lights on for me. I squinted, but then couldn’t stop staring as the girl walked towards the bed. The stunningly beautiful Latina wore her hair in a pixie cut with bangs sweeping over her eyes. She lovingly caressed my hand. “Hello, Jenny-Q. ” Even with her new look, I would recognize her beauty anywhere. Up close I could see her caramel skin, high cheekbones, pouty lips and large brown eyes that sparkled with hints of gold. “Hey, Sean, ” she whispered. “Sorry, I’m so nervous. I didn’t even know if you’d remember me. I have no idea what to say. I know if my dad was here, he’d try to get us to pray, or some shit like that. ” “Remember you? You saved my life. I don’t know what I was thinking, that day. I should’ve run. ” “No shit, ” Sara muttered. She still hadn’t really forgiven me for talking back to Richie Cross like I was on some kind of suicide mission. “I knew what to expect, after my run-in with Lisa, ” I admitted, not meeting Sara’s eyes. “Richie wasn’t about to let me get away with screwing around with his girl. It had to be me coming on to her, because Lisa would never cheat on him, no. ” “Why I thought I’d get on better with that douchebag than Lisa had, I’ll never know. ” Jen rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe he called you an ass-cancer. ” “Yeah, well. I shouldn’t have told him I had cancer. It just seemed easier than explaining Cystic Fibrosis to a dumbfuck. ” Sarah folded her arms. “I get that, but you didn’t do yourself any favors with your comeback. ” She glared at Jen, who was giggling. I’d told Richie that I’d rather be an ass-cancer than the only black guy at White Creek with a micro-penis, and then came the beat-down. I remembered the ‘fight’ clear as day. I’d lifted my chin, daring Richie and his gang of dickwads to attack. In the moment, I honestly felt like I could take whatever they had to give, but the blows came too fast and too hard. I could hear people laughing, even cheering. My efforts to shield my face were proving pointless as my attackers dragged my body away from the lockers and started stomping my head. It was when I’d started to succumb to the pain that I heard screams and voices coming to my defense. One by one, the attackers stepped off, but before I could start to feel the relief, Richie grabbed me by the hair and blew cigarette smoke directly into my blood-covered face. It was Jenny-Q who’d rummaged in my bag and helped me with my inhaler, preventing a choking spiral that would’ve ended me in minutes. But it got her slapped hard. Through eyes which were rapidly swelling shut, I saw Richie hauling her down the hallway by her arm, railing at her about her lack of respect. “Yo! Earth to Sean! ” Sara said, shaking my arm. “Were you sleeping with your eyes open? ” “Sorry. ” I smiled at Jenny, still feeling guilty that I couldn’t do a damn thing about what Richie did to her after she’d defended me. “I never forgot your courage, Jenny-Q. Hell, I didn’t even get to thank you. Where did you go? ” She shrugged. “I took a little ‘hiatus’ from school. Anyway, like I told Sara, Jenny-Q was a slut with super-short shorts and over-processed ringlets. Now I’m just Jen. ” “I like the pixie cut, ” I told her. “New era, new image, right? ” “Yeah, that, and also I used so much hair product that I gave myself a scalp infection. ” Covering her embarrassment, she grabbed the bed controls and took it upon herself to move my body to an upright position. Her fingers brushed a lock of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I just want to see those beautiful eyes. ” I held her gaze for a long moment, trying to figure out her body language. It seemed like she was being more than gentle—I felt a little like she was hitting on me. Sara glanced back from the muted TV. She’d been surfing the channels. “Jen knows all the cool hospital tricks, like how to get nonfamily into the ICU. ” I grinned. “How come? ” “Her brother died of cancer. ” I flinched at my sister’s total lack of tact and looked into Jen’s beautiful eyes. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. ” “Yeah, Cam died of liver cancer when he was eighteen, and I was eleven. Neither of my parents were viable donors. ” She looked at the ceiling as if looking to God. “I was conceived on the off-chance I could save him. Cam developed tumors in his liver when he was two years old. All my parents’ time and energy was put into giving him a little… longer. ” Sara blinked. “Wow, that’s kind of harsh. I know my mom loves Sean more than me, but—” “Sara, that’s not true, ” I snapped. I hoped she was being sarcastic, but wasn’t sure. Things had been a little ropey between her and Mom for a while. Jen raised her hand. “The point is, Sara, you love him too. It was the same for me and Cam. There’s a story he used to tell me about the day I was born. I was passed off to my grandma because my parents needed to check on Cam in the ICU. Grandma thought it was inappropriate for a new mother to be away from her baby, so she took it upon herself to bring me to the ICU and put me into Cam’s arms. He told me that in that moment he felt like a superhero because he had someone to watch over, someone to love. ” “Yeah, I’ll bet. ” I could only imagine what that felt like, to be suddenly given the chance to be someone’s hero. Part of me wondered, at what point in his short life Cam realized that Jen was born only to serve as spare parts. To me, that would be the most heartbreaking aspect. To know that not only were you destined to die, you couldn’t protect the one person you cared about most. Jen’s voice was breaking. “When my mom tried to take the baby away, Cam cried. He was the only person who ever loved me. The day he died, I wanted to die too. ” I cupped her face in my hands, looking into her eyes. “You’re too beautiful to cry. ” Sara giggled. “You two are so cute together, like something out of a magazine. ” Jen stuck out her tongue. “Teen Vogue or Hustler? ” “Vanity Fair, at least their gorgeous supermodels keep their clothes on. ” “I can roll with that, but I’ll never be a model. ” Sara rolled her eyes. “I don’t do false modesty. ” “No, really…” Jen lifted her shirt slightly, revealing a large scar on her otherwise perfect abs. “A chunk of my eight-year-old liver bought my brother a few more years. ” I stared. “Wow. That’s quite the war wound. ” “It’s a permanent reminder of how I failed him. ” “You didn’t fail him, ” Sara said. “Medical science failed him. That, and not enough people walking marathons while wearing colorful ribbons. ” Jen covered her mouth as she laughed. “You are so bad, Sara. ” I put my arm around Jen, pulling her close. “Can I touch your scar? ” “Yeah, I guess. ” I slid my hand over her abs, feeling the raised tissue. She released a soft sigh. Taking courage, I moved her hand towards my drainage port, but her hand recoiled. She smiled too brightly and pulled back, pulling her shirt down. “Anyway! I know how to hook up a gaming system to a crappy wall-mounted TV in Iowa, how to sneak a refill of ice chips from the unlocked faculty break room in Nebraska, how to smuggle in outside food in New Mexico, and—most importantly—how to do most of the nurse’s job. ” “Uh… good? ” “And pushing the little red button is a fifty-fifty shot at best, am I right? Nurse call button, my ass. ” I forced myself to laugh at Jen’s joke. It was so cool that she hated hospitals just as much as I did, but I was still stung from misreading her. She got up and headed for the door, all smiles, but seeming like she needed to get out quickly. I slumped in bed, really needing her to give me a second chance. “Hey, do you need to go already? ” Jen smiled. “Probably best if I do right now. I’ll be back. I promise. ” Chapter 2 Jen returned as promised, and for the next few weeks, I had the time of my life. Jen would accompany Sara to the hospital. We would all talk about poetry, philosophy, and why PC gaming was better than any console package the major companies could put out. They would get my homework and help me complete assignments as I slowly regained my strength. “Why do I need four years of math to graduate? ” I groaned. Geometry was a little better than algebra since it was the art of measuring shapes, as opposed to trying to find numbers that didn’t exist. “If I’m passing geometry, then it’s not that difficult. ” Jen walked me through each question, massaging my shoulders, while Sara worked on my English and history essays. “You have to read Romeo and Juliet, ” Sara said, tossing Jen a DVD of the late nineties punk version to put into her laptop. Jen smirked. “I cannot believe you own this movie. ” “It’s the better one, ” Sara pointed out. “Colorful costumes, special effects, and they still used the same script. “It’s frickin’ Shakespeare—they can’t change the script! ” I was out of the ICU, the infection completely cleared. I had my own room in the main pediatric unit, another hospital-survival trick Jen had mastered. She explained that getting the right room was a similar process to getting the best table at a restaurant; if you could convince the staff you wouldn’t be much trouble, you could earn yourself a heavy dose of privacy. Jen and Sara snuck in candy and fast food while Mom sat in a corner, working on her laptop. She would occasionally look up and see the three of us laughing. Whenever our eyes met, I could see her smiling. Most importantly, unlike in the ICU, visitors could stay overnight. Jen often texted her father in the evening: “Spending the night with Sean and his sister. Their mother will be present. ” I thought that was weirdly formal, but it wasn’t for me to say. Jen cuddled next to me in my bed (which was a strict hospital no-no), but Sara was a good human alert system. She was a light sleeper. If Sara detected movement towards our room from any approaching nurse, she’d spring out of her seat, waking both me and Jen. On more than one occasion I would awake alone, seeing Jen and Sara asleep on chairs. There was no way Jen was never caught. So, I assumed my two best friends were just that expertly skilled at talking their way out of incriminating situations. It took me a while to realize that Jen never got any reply from her father. Ever. “I guess I should just take that to mean, ‘whatever, get home eventually, ’ right? ” Jen said as she rested her elbows on the bed railing. “Maybe your texts aren’t going through? ” “You don’t know my father. ” “Ok then, let’s get to know our dads. I’ll start. My dad worked for the Red Cross. ” “Worked? Did he retire? ” “He passed away when Sean and I were three, ” Sara answered. “We mostly know him through photos and stories. I wish I had more memories of him. So, what does your dad do for a living? ” “Both my parents are in real estate. ” I noticed that occasional, somber expression taking root once again. “Always? Since the dawn of time? ” Sara joked. Before that, my father was in the military. ” “What did he do in the military? ” “I don’t know—the usual soldier stuff. ” Clearly, there was more to the story. Was he disabled? I knew that wasn’t any of my business, but she was pretty open about her brother’s death. I grabbed her phone and hit call. Jen grabbed it back and smacked me in the face. “Ow! ” I touched my sore eye. “Was that necessary? ” “Be grateful you’re already in the hospital. ” “Are you seriously telling me I can’t call your dad? ” Jen fiddled with her screen and then pulled up a picture. “This is my father, Master Sergeant Diego Miguel Quinto. ” Sara made her way over. “I want to see! ” Jen’s father was a muscular man with a tattooed chest. His dark eyes looked directly at the camera with an intimidating gaze. I blinked. “Woah. He’s… he’s not very… small. ” Sara laughed. “He’s not that scary. He’s actually kind of hot, like Benjamin Bratt—muy caliente. ” Jen scrubbed her face like she was trying to soap the image from her eyes. “That’s my dad you’re talking about. Oh, by the way, caliente means spicy, so unless you want to eat him—” “What if I do? ” Jen shook her head as she put her phone away. “You two are a bunch of children. ” I had to agree with Sara; the guy was good-looking, clearly the source of Jen’s good genes. She had his dark eyes, slender nose, and high cheekbones. They even had similar lips. Part of me wanted to meet the guy just to see if he had Jen’s smile. The days went by quickly with my two best friends by my side. I was healthier than I’d been for a long time. The doctor even authorized the removal of my neck trach. When I wasn’t trying to catch up with work from class, I enjoyed a little downtime with Jen while Sara caught a few zees on the mattress in the corner of the room. Jen and I liked watching movies on her phone. One evening, we were following a television show where contestants had to make meals out of a random section of items, like hot dogs with caviar and cotton candy. Though my cystic fibrosis usually did a number on my appetite, I watched the chefs at work, marinating and grilling. One chef even wrapped his cut of meat in puff pastry. I was becoming genuinely hungry. On another preparation table, the contestants were forced to cook bison with quinoa, saffron cookies, and guava. “Sean, if you stop drooling on my shoulder, I’ll get you a candy bar. ” “I want to try bison someday. I think it would be like beef but better. ” “Same here, except that I hate the idea of death; I hate giant roasted animals—” “What, like blue whales? Mammoths? ” Jen rolled her eyes. “No, I mean whole chicken, whole fish, or whole anything-that-looks-like-a-corpse. I love how dead cow is called beef, and the dead baby cow is called veal. Helps us humans forget they were ever living creatures, or that they’d ever experienced thought or emotion. ” “Fish is fish and chicken is chicken, ” I pointed out. “And thanks to you, I’ll have to fall asleep contemplating the deep thoughts of farm animals. ” “Sorry, not sorry. ” “I really want to try bison. How are you with steaks? ” Jen smiled. “Okay-ish. I guess I’ll take a vow to eat bison with you someday. ” She ran her fingers through my hair. Jen’s face was already so close to mine. She turned and our lips touched, once then twice. I closed my eyes. I had kissed a lot of girls, but Jen was different. Her touch was pure love. “Open your eyes, Sean, ” Jen whispered, caressing my face. “I want to see those beautiful eyes. ” I obliged, cupping her face as our lips met for one long sexy kiss. Jen pulled herself onto my lap. She slipped her hands down my shoulders as we made out in my bed. Her abs tightened as I caressed her waist. My hands looked huge on her body. Suddenly, Jen grabbed my wrist so hard I jumped. “Did I do something wrong? ” “No, no but…” She started to cry. “I can’t do this yet. I’m so sorry. ” Not knowing what to say, I pulled her down to lie on the bed with me, her body resting on mine as she sobbed into my shoulder. “There’s something I have to tell you. ” “About Richie Cross? ” I asked. Jen nodded, but didn’t say anything more. I cleared my throat. “You don’t have to explain anything if you don’t want. ” “I… I do. I need to. ” I gripped her hand, and then still for what seemed like an age while she described how the guy had made her life a living hell. By the time Jen was done talking, she was hoarse and I was struck dumb—dumb enough to manage little more than a vague wave when she hopped off the bed and said she was going to get a drink. Sara went with her, trailing behind like she didn’t want to leave Jen alone, but didn’t want to crowd her, either. She’d woken up while Jen was crying and heard everything. The whole story made me feel sick to the gut, even sicker than the cheaper-than-shit jello in the tiny pot by my bedside. She’d taken a risk sticking up for me on the day that Richie and his crew tried to beat the last living daylights out of me, and the risk had cost her dearly. I had no idea what I’d done to earn her trust. I didn’t even know what to feel: relief that she didn’t blame me for Richie’s treatment of her after the day she’d stopped him from beating me, or guilt for my part in making the asshole turn on her the way he did. She hadn’t dumped him. That wasn’t an option; she was scared. Her association with Richie had driven away pretty much anyone at school who might rescue her from him. Nobody wanted to experience his rage after the example he’d made of me. She’d played meek-little-mouse to keep him happy until the inevitable escalation occurred; he sexually assaulted her and dumped her off on her parents’ lawn. I closed my eyes, as if that would erase the mental image of her being pitched out of a car, unconscious. It didn’t work. Not even fantasizing about hiring a hit man to beat eighteen shades of crap out of Richie made me feel any better. “Sorry to disturb you, honey. ” The soft voice made me jump. A blood pressure cuff started tightening around my bicep. I looked up to see the night-shift nurse giving me one of her pitying smiles. I quirked one back at her and pretended to try to go back to sleep, just grateful she didn’t ask why I was upset. After a few moments, her footsteps retreated. I clenched my fists under the blankets. Following the assault, Jen’s father had tried to do what I wanted to do so badly—smack Richie in the face. He’d confronted the asshole, taking him down with a punch and then busting Richie’s car up a little, which simply led to Richie’s parents filing counter-charges for assault on their son. Telling me about her father’s response to the situation, Jen had been so venomous about his actions that I was almost a little scared at her anger towards him. I couldn’t blame her for being mad that he’d nearly undermined the investigation into Richie’s assault on her; she needed those charges to stick. If her life was ever going to be the same again, he had to be identified as the guilty party and removed from school. In the end, it was Richie who shot himself in the foot. Confident that the investigation into him had gotten nowhere, he posted the video of them having “sex. ” When that video hit social media, I was still out of school, recovering from Richie’s beating, so I never got to see it. Thankfully, not too many other people did either, because he was reported by another member of his supposedly closed group and the film was taken down and saved for evidence within a couple of hours of being posted. The time stamp on the video matched up with Jen’s account of the assault, confirming his guilt beyond a shadow of a doubt, but no charges were ever pressed. Jen’s mother had accepted a six-figure hush payment from Nathan Cross while Diego was away on business. Fast, loud feet stamped across the tile floor in my room, startling me. The girls were back from the cafeteria and it looked like they’d been fighting. “What’s up? ” I croaked. Sara looked indignant and shocked at the same time. “I somehow made her mad. ” “Somehow? ” My mouth went dry watching the two of them getting louder and louder. I swallowed to get spit back in my mouth. “Guys—” “I just asked Jen why she was so pissed at her dad when it was her mother who accepted the payoff. ” “This isn’t rocket science, Sara. He let my mom take a payout in exchange for Richie’s full exoneration. How did that help me? My folks got the money, but I got to remain the school slut. And you know what’s just as bad? Richie still has a clean record. He could go to college and do this to another girl, and get off—again. ” “You can’t do anything about that—” “But my parents could’ve done something! Dad should’ve made Mom give the money back. ” “Well… you did say your mom was kinda forceful. ” Jen slammed her coke can on my bedside table. “That is so not the point! He wasn’t even around to stop this whole pay-off shit from happening. I was in the hospital for a whole week after what Richie did, but Dad only visited that first night when I woke up. Where was he after that? On some ‘urgent’ business trip, that’s where. ” “Well, maybe he urgently needed to tell his senior people why he needed time off work, ” Sara pressed. “Some employers are jerks. You have to shove police reports in their faces to make them understand there’s a crisis. ” “He’s in real estate, he works for himself! ” “What about his clients? He has to keep the business going, right? ” “Oh, just… don’t! ” Jen paced the room, her fists clenched. For a horrible second, it looked like she was going to storm out and not come back. As much as I loved Sara, sometimes she didn’t know when to quit playing Devil’s advocate. I cleared my throat and fixed Sara with the calmest gaze I could manage. “It’s her situation, Sis. She knows more about it than we do. ” Sara shifted from foot to foot. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just… I know what it’s like to not be able to help someone as much as I want to, and I figured he probably felt the same way when trying to deal with wealthy shitbags like the Cross family. ” Jen caught her anxious glance, and released a long breath. She then made one of those exaggerated “om” gestures with her hands. “I’m really sorry, ” Sara insisted. “I was just trying to help you see that maybe your dad didn’t want to neglect you. ” “All right, ” Jen finally said. “I wasn’t trying to rip you a new one, but I need to ask you a favor. Just… remember that I’ve seen every side of my father. You’ve never even met him. ” “Sure. ” Sara looked contrite. “I get it. ” As the girls sat down together, sharing cautious smiles, I swear my blood pressure came down about twenty points. I grinned at Jen. “It’s not Sara’s fault she likes Diego so much. She’s depraved and lusts for anyone who looks like Benjamin Bratt. ” Sarah slugged me in the arm. Jen finally cracked a smile. “If anything, he looks like Al Pacino in Scarface—if Scarface were a disabled vet who worked out nearly every day. ” “Your father is disabled? ” I asked. He certainly didn’t appear disabled. But then again neither did I. Especially on my good days. “A war injury, ” she explained. “He gets really bad muscle spasms in his back. ” Sara looked to Jen. “But he’s able to work out? In that picture he looks ripped. ” “The more he maintains his strength, the less his body deteriorates. ” I held Jen in my arms. “Jen, I love you. I still want to come to your house and meet him for myself. ” Jen shook her head. “It’s not my dad I’m worried about. He knows how to turn on the charm when he has to. It’s my mom. She’s… she hates anything with a dick. ” “As the only person in this room with a dick, I’m insisting you explain that statement. ” “She hates my dad, that much is certain. And although she hated Richie, she was more than happy to sit back and watch things go wrong, just so she could call me a disappointment. And then there’s your disability. ” “Your mother hates disabled people? ” I asked. “After my brother died, she just lost it. She’s in mourning every moment of the day. I can just see her taking one look at you and feeling threatened by your looks, your talent—all despite your illness. She’s going to try to knock you down just to prove that she can, and I don’t want to witness that. ” “I’ve been knocked down plenty of times. ” Jen looked up at me. “If you guys want to push into my private life—” “I’m not doing that. ” “Not taking ‘no’ for an answer is pushing, Sean. ” Jen huffed a big breath and looked back at me. “If you want me to let you in, then you let me in. ” I frowned. “I have been. ” “What did Lisa Anders do to you? ” I felt a shiver down my spine. “You know what she did to me, the whole school does. ” “Yours is the only side of the story I haven’t heard. ” part 2:.
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Saint maudit. Saint maud trailer 2020. Saint maud movie/ music/ artists. Saint maud 2020. Saint maud movie trailer. Saint maud plot. Saint maud reddit. Bandes-annonces Casting Critiques spectateurs Critiques presse Photos VOD Blu-Ray, DVD noter: 0. 5 1 1. 5 2 2. 5 3 3. 5 4 4. 5 5 Envie de voir Rédiger ma critique Synopsis et détails Maud, infirmière à domicile, s’installe chez Amanda, une célèbre danseuse fragilisée par la maladie qui la maintient cloîtrée dans son immense maison. Amanda est d’abord intriguée par cette étrange jeune femme très croyante, qui la distrait. Maud, elle, est fascinée par sa patiente. Mais les apparences sont trompeuses. Maud, tourmentée par un terrible secret et par les messages qu’elle pense recevoir directement de Dieu, se persuade qu’elle doit accomplir une mission: sauver l’âme d’Amanda. Distributeur Diaphana Distribution Récompenses 3 prix et 2 nominations Voir les infos techniques Acteurs et actrices Casting complet et équipe technique Dernières news Si vous aimez ce film, vous pourriez aimer... Voir plus de films similaires Pour découvrir d'autres films: Les meilleurs films de l'année 2019, Les meilleurs films Thriller, Meilleurs films Thriller en 2019. Commentaires.
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