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We weep for them; you don’t have to. The slaves, the victims, the pretenders. When they breathe deep, their lungs expand, and break. So they don’t breathe deep. They limit their breathing. And when they eat, the disgusting condition of the food makes them throw up anyway. So they hardly eat.

Save the pity, save your anguish. They don’t need it; it can’t save them. Don’t give them your money, or your “help”. They don’t want doctors, analysts, or therapy.

They know it’s over, they just want to be left alone. Don’t glance at them longer than you glance at anyone else. They’re people, too. Abuse is tragic, but life goes on. They ignore you - you would do best to do the same.

Sleep tight, don’t left their horrific nightmares intrude on your less-than-perfect life.

After all, rape is exaggerated.

Who really cares if girls get beat, crushed, destroyed, taken?

Certainly not you. But it’s okay. They don’t expect you to care anyway. They expect you to pretend to care. So they can pretend too. They’ll pretend to improve.

You smile in her face, and she smiles back. Pretending not to know versus pretending to be sane.

You know - the worst rape cases aren’t the ones were the girl gets killed. No, it’s were it happens over and over again, and there is absolutely nothing she can do about it. She’s weak, defenseless, insecure. She wants to go home, to be stronger. And then, there are the stupid ones. You know the ones I’m talking about - the ones who fight the whole

time. Those girls are just beaten in submission.

Nobody expects perfection - but you knew the whole time. It’s not like you watched, but you weren’t affected. You could have said something! Anything. Why didn’t you? Why did you stand there, in the shadows, and pretend? He didn’t threaten you! He didn’t threaten all you loved! He didn’t even know you. You could have helped her. You could have saved her from what she is now: Alive, but very much deceased.

You saw her, before and after. You saw her piece herself together bit by bit. You couldn’t have thought they were both faking it - you aren’t that stupid. You knew, God you knew. You’re a sick bastard.

Did you think it didn’t hurt? It hurt. It hurt everything. Spirit, body, pride. Don’t smile at me, you fucking scumbag. You’re just as sick as he is, you know.

Both of you. You did it together sometimes, didn’t you? You can go to hell.

You saw it! Everyday, you saw it. The lifeless eyes, the fading energy - you never saw the bruises, but that’s just because your friend, your sick, twisted friend knew how to cover his tracks. He wasn’t stupid - you weren’t stupid.

Only I was.

God, how could I have been so stupid?! How come I didn’t see it? Why did I think it would away?

Wha- What are you doing? No. Stop it. Go away. Stay the hell away from me, you fucking creep!

No… I swear to God, if you even touch me I’ll blow your fucking brain--