You think that is funny? You think it is funny to laugh at a girl's misfortune? What the hell is with you lately? Since when did your penis become the center of your intellectual thinking?
[Ken: All of these questions. Jeez…why do have to take things so seriously?]
God! Ignorance is the plague to the human existence.
[Ken: What the hell is wrong with you? I was joking around.]
Oh so, sex is a joke to you. It is even better when a girl is taken advantage of. Well, let me tell you something asshole - it is no joke to me.
[Ken: Lighten up.]
I've never told anyone this before. Maybe if you can open your mind for a minute you'll understand why I am so "sensitive."
Remember I told you that I was in dance lessons when I was a teenager? It was a prominent studio in the neighboring town that I dedicated fifteen years of my life to. On the night of my final exam, five of us were driving home, as we usually did, late at night. We were at the top of the world. Although a chapter of our lives just closed, we had all reached our goals with the completion of the three-hour ballet exam. When you're a little girl, you look up to the senior dancers and dream that it is you are them. I had reached the top of my mountain, which automatically looked like a pebble in the giant terran that life represents. We were young. We were carefree. We were innocent.
As young people do, electronic thumping shocked the car as it made its way down the highway. The girls in the back just happened to be yelling out of the window. An innocent act except when it is directed at the wrong person. A white Honda pulled beside us, providing an equal ratio of girls to boys. We thought they were just out for fun and stupidly did not think they would be drunk. Damn it! What fucking fools we were. Of course the bastards were drunk - the bars had just closed on that Friday night and nobody handles a car like that on purpose.
They pulled up right behind us and blinded us with their high beams. It was impossible to out run them - and that would be our fatal mistake since Lori missed a turn and we ended up in a cornfield. We thought they were helping us out of the car because they were advocates of humanity. Lucky for them that we were all right - fatal for us. That is the last memory I have of all of us being together that night.
I tried to convince myself that I provoked this. The screaming, the make-up, my dress…Just out of high school and entering a world of independence. I was not ready to die. Not now…not now…
His legs were made of steel and mine of jelly as I tried to escape my fate. Looking into his eyes I saw the blue stones of the devil. Fucking bastard. Why couldn't he had stayed in the car? Why couldn't had kept his psychotic fucked up thoughts to himself. He didn't know me. I was no longer a person but an object - an object that he thought he had ownership of. Before I knew it I was on the bitterly cold ground where the dew matched my tears. My shrills were of no help. They matched my friends' and nothing could disrupt the bastard's quest to destroy me. His ice hands were touching me. He couldn't and wouldn't leave any area unexplored. The knife chanting: "be a good slut." He took forever to quickly rip and tear away my only protection. My emotions were murdered…completely helpless under his vice-grip. How could this be happening? Please God…what have I done to displease you? Why here? Why now? There was no end…
The bastard was sloppy. Not only did he pass out, but he left his weapon in reach. Everything now was happening in slow motion. The fuck would pay. The fuck did pay. They called it self-defense in a state of duress. They would have never tried for automatism and why should they? I knew what I was doing. Blood had never felt so good on my hands. Nobody has to know the real story and that it happened after his robbery. Pay-back's a bitch.
Pretty funny, eh? Being taken advantage of is quite entertaining. The next multi-million dollar comedic movie. Oh Ken…lighten up.
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