Scream (1996) was a token part of my teenage years. This might sound strange or even pathetic to some, but just like yesterday there is a memory of sitting in my room, glued to my small television set in awe of the opening sequence. Who could believe that Drew Barrymore was not going make it through in the entire film? The opening scene even ranked in Bravo’s 100 Scariest Movie Moments at number 13. And despite the number of horror films I already viewed at my young age, I can still remember yelling at my television that Jason Voorhees was the killer in Friday the 13th along with Casey Becker. The correct answer of course is Mrs. Voorhees, which made me feel like a complete idiot. I got a horror trivia question wrong and played right into the killer’s hands!
Let me start by saying that the trauma I speak of is not really trauma. It is a complete exaggeration of my inner thirteen year old who would highly disagree with my definition of trauma now. In fact, my inner thirteen year old feels insulted I do not consider seeing the film Wild Things with my father trauma. If you have seen this film you have probably tilted your head and feel like I made a typo. I have not, but without further adieu here is my story. Continue reading “Twenty years of the traumatization of an inner thirteen year old”