A Woman Can Be This Cruel


I had only seen one side of a woman i.e. love, until I met this depressed and suicidal bitch. I used to feel so hard to describe what my soul and body went through being with this whore who faked as someone wanting to have a life and family with me.

Thankfully, a movie I recently watached describes my pain of being with that stupid woman who always victimises herself in front of other men before making the new one another sob story to sell to her next victim.

This movie’s name is Rebecca (2020) and here are some of the dialogs that describe very well how I felt being with this zombie-type of individual;

(Just replace the names of Max with me and Rebecca’s name with that suicidal and whorish bitch)

Max: It’s over. She’s won.

Mrs. de Winter: Who’s won?

Max: Rebecca.

Mrs. de Winter: If that’s her body they found, who is it you buried?

Max: I don’t know.

Mrs. de Winter: Maxim. The truth.

Max: I don’t know. I swear it.

Mrs. de Winter: How did she drown?

Max: She didn’t.

Mrs. de Winter: Don’t lie to me.

Max: She didn’t drown. She was already dead. Her boat was damaged. I damaged it. Deliberately.

Mrs. de Winter: Oh, Maxim.

Max: You didn’t know her. Nobody did. She told me on our honeymoon how it would be. How she would keep her flat in London. Her parade of men. Even her own cousin.

Mrs. de Winter: Please, Maxim!

Max: She relished it. Playing the part. The perfect wife, knowing that I would never divorce her.

Mrs. de Winter: ‘Cause you loved her.

Max: I hated her. Hated her cruelty. I hated my cowardice. Knowing that I wouldn’t divorce her. Knowing I could never do that to our name.

Mrs. de Winter: How did she die?

Max: When she came back from London, she told me she was expecting a visit from Favell. When I got here, she was alone. She looked different. She was pale. She’d seen a doctor in London.

She said, “Imagine if I had a child, Max.
You could never prove it wasn’t yours.”

See, it wasn’t enough
for her to take my pride.

She wanted to take
my name, my home, everything.

And she said, “Go on, Max, do it.”

“All you have to do is pull the trigger and you’ll be free.”

Bullet went straight through her. She didn’t fall right away. She just stood there. So calm. Almost relieved. And then she was gone.

Mrs. de Winter: All this time I thought you still loved Rebecca. Why didn’t you tell me?

Max: I couldn’t. I was so afraid I’d have lost you.

Mrs. de Winter: Go to the police, tell them everything. You didn’t know. Nothing’ll happen to you.

Max: I understand if you want nothing more to do with me. That’s your choice.

Mrs. de Winter: You made a mistake… identifying the body.

Max: It was the grief, the trauma. Nobody knows but us. Nobody will ever know.

Mrs. de Winter: No, she hasn’t won, Maxim. She hasn’t won. We won’t let her. You don’t have to speak to them.

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