Not Your Fault

Summary: A long time ago, Nami was raped, by a stranger, while walking home... Everyone said it was her fault... Why was she drunk? Why was she wearing such skanky clothes? Why didn't she scream louder?... Nami thought this was all true, then a stranger told her otherwise...

AN: I can't speak from experience but I know that, it's indescribable; rape, There are many words a person can give but even then you would never fully understand, even if you were a victim yourself. Only you can understand your own pain…

I always saw Zoro as a feminist, because he was friends with Kuina, who was denied her dream because she was a woman. Women aren't the only victims, of course. Men can be hurt as well, by other men and by women. Anyways, please enjoy.

~?~?~?~

Nami frowned uneasily, rubbing her arms as she nervously looked around her surroundings. She was sitting on a bench, waiting for the bus. It was early into the night, the sun setting, and she was hot; it was mid-summer and she was wearing a long skirt and a thick, turtleneck sweater. Nothing was left to the public. She had to protect herself. She couldn't let it happen again. She couldn't.

Nami flinched when suddenly a man took the empty seat on the other side of the bench; she couldn't stop herself from fearfully looking over. The man was tall and broad; built like a tank with deadly guns. He had green hair and a scar over his eye, which was closed. He wore a black sleeveless hoodie and sweatpants; there was a sword case on his lap. He smiled at Nami and she flinched again, looking away while reaching into her purse to hold onto her pepper spray; like it was a security blanket.

The man seemed to get the hint and he looked away. He looked at her again and noted her appearance. "You dressed warmly," he said with a smile, "Gotta keep that summer chill out."

Nami didn't know why, but she answered. "I don't want to give the wrong idea," she said bitterly.

The man frowned sadly. "Sometimes a stranger hears more than a friend," he said simply, before looking back into the street.

Nami flinched, and looked down. She's told before. She told those important to her, those she thought cared for her. People who told her that she could tell them anything. Nami guessed anything meant 'anything that didn't make them uncomfortable'. Nami sometimes thought it was easier to keep it to herself rather than share.

"Well why did you walk home drunk?"

"Why would you walk alone in the dark?"

"Your clothes were too revealing."

"Hell I probably would of done you if I saw you on the street like that."

"Get over yourself. It was probably your fault anyways."

"Where's that bus?" Nami muttered, looking around bitterly.

The man smiled. "The world works in strange ways," he replied. "Maybe it wants you to throw your burden on someone else."

Nami gritted her teeth and her mouth moved without her consent. "Almost a year ago, I was raped," she said.

The man frowned, and Nami was surprised to see it wasn't with pity. "What happened?" he asked softly.

Nami looked away. "It was my fault," she said, eyes narrowing.

The man's face was blank. "Oh?" he asked, playing with the bench's splinters.

Nami nodded, her eyes stinging as she thought of that night. "I was drunk, walking home alone from a party," she said, "I was wearing a mini-skirt and a bikini top…"

Nami bit her lip, closing her eyes. Why was she dressed like that? What was wrong with her jeans and t-shirts that she usually wore? Why did she have to get drunk? Why-?

"What was he wearing?"

Nami jumped, looking at the stranger in shock. "What?" she whispered in surprise.

The man shrugged. "What was he wearing?" he repeated, "Did anyone ask you that? Or why he raped you?"

"I was dressed scantily," Nami argued, "I was drunk! I didn't say no!"

The man frowned. "Women don't dress like 'skanks' as you put it," he said, "They dress in clothes that describe them. Confident, independent, brave. Those are words that should be used to describe the clothes a woman wears."

He continued. "And being drunk, or not saying no, does not mean yes," he said. "You were scared, frozen with fright. You probably were wondering to yourself 'why did something like this happen to you? What did you do to deserve such punishment?'"

Nami stared at the stranger before her. How did he know so much? How did he know how to say the right things?

"Besides," he said, "Why can a man go out and get completely smashed without a care in the world but a woman can't lest she get in 'trouble'?"

"I shouldn't have walked home alone," Nami said.

"Women are told to trust men," the man said, "And yet also told not to trust them. What really needs to be taught is that a man shouldn't rape. That rape is wrong. Period."

The man tilted his head and observed Nami. "You look like someone who used to be so strong and independent," he said.

Nami grit her teeth in anger. "You don't know me," she said bitterly. "Maybe I've always been like this."

"Scared of life? Tense at life's enjoyments?" he asked, then shook his head. "You're right, I apologize. I shouldn't assume anything."

Suddenly a black car drove up to the curve and the man stood. "My ride's here," he said, shouldering his bag.

Nami looked at him. "Wait-!" she said, and flinched when the man turned back. "What- How-?" she couldn't finish.

The man smiled. "I had a friend," he said, looking at her, "She was raped too and lived… Nobody asked her the right questions either…"

The man looked towards the sunset. "I wished I had," he said, then glanced at her with a smile. "I'm glad I got to ask you."

Without another word, the man entered the car and it drove away. Nami stared after it and jumped when the bus suddenly appeared in front of her. Mechanically, she walked onto the bus, taking a seat that faced towards the back. Finally, she took out her phone.

"Operator, I'd like to speak to the chief of police…"

End.

.

.

.

That ending sucked, I'm sorry… :( I really tried to make it serious, to the crime of rape but I didn't mention everything I wanted to for the story. It was such an interesting story in my head too… If only I could of got it on paper.

I haven't said this in years, but no flames please. I know I can't begin to describe such an act but I tried to show the seriousness of it rather than the story that some show.

Til next time,

Ja ne.