This story… is going to start out a little messed up. I wouldn't read if any of you are sensitive on this subject.
Why am I writing it? It's part of writing-therapy to deal with a fear. Virginitiphobia- for those of you who don't know what it is, look it up before you continue reading, then decide if you can handle reading this. I won't go into detail- being a bit squeamish- but it's going to be more psychologically sensitive.
Basically, I figured if people write fan-fics based on their fantasies (meeting favorite characters, living the plot of a movie, shipping their OTP, etc.) …why not write a story based on their fear and how they overcome it? This was how this story came to be.
At first I didn't think I could do it, but drew some inspiration from Shirohime's-Shizaya-stories' "A Single Touch". It's very emotional and well-written in my opinion.
Well, let us start, shall we? It's not too late to turn around if you don't want to read. If you do read and feel uncomfortable, I apologize but it was your choice. If you are not uncomfortable and find this sort of experience part of some entertaining fetish… go light yourself on fire.
Also, as a disclaimer, I do not own any upcoming characters in this story. I will also list where the character's come from so you have an idea.
Go ahead and read… but don't say I didn't warn you.
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Cold.
Dead.
That's how she felt right now.
But she wasn't dead.
She wished she was, though. She wished she was dead.
She wished she had died before this happened. Getting hit by a truck. Shot. Stabbed. Poisoned.
Any of those sounded better than what just happened.
But she was alive.
She didn't feel like it though.
She was cold. Wet. It had started raining moments ago.
She was too numb to notice.
Why?
That's all that entered her head.
She wanted to fall unconscious, wake up and believe this was just a nightmare.
It wasn't.
Even if she fell into a coma and woke up ten years from now, she would know it wasn't.
It happened.
She never wanted it to happen.
Why?
Why did it have to happen?
Was it part of God's plan to test her strength?
Did she do something wrong?
If so, what?
What caused her to fall into such a fate?
She felt dead.
She wished she were dead.
Her heart was still pounding in her chest.
Raindrops covered her. Some getting in her eyes, making her blink.
She tried to move, to lift her head…
It was no use.
She was in too much pain.
They really damaged her…
…
Who were 'they'?
There were three of them…
They jumped her while she was walking back to the hotel.
She winced.
This was supposed to be fun.
Go on vacation, relax, have some time to unwind and feel good.
She'll never feel good again.
Never.
Not after what 'they' did to her.
Who were they?
She didn't recognize her assailants as some enemy.
She wished she were dead.
Cold. So cold…
Why?
She couldn't remember their faces.
Except one. She remembered seeing his eyes…
He looked scared.
The others were laughing.
They liked seeing her scared.
They took pleasure out of her pain.
They used a syringe on her so she couldn't fight back.
It wasn't morphine.
If it were morphine, she wouldn't have felt anything.
But she felt everything.
She couldn't forget.
She couldn't move.
…
She couldn't keep living.
Why?
Why didn't they kill her afterwards?
Was this their game?
To hurt someone this badly, then leave them to deal with the aftermath?
The rain continued to pour.
She was so cold…
*pat, pat, splash, sploosh, pat, pat*
Her ear was to the ground, hearing approaching footsteps.
Her other ear caught a shout.
"I-ZAY-AAAAAA!"
Sounded furious.
There was laughing.
Voices shouting at each other.
She couldn't move.
Otherwise she could have checked it out.
Not that she would have to move.
They came this way.
They didn't see her…
*Thud!*
"Oomph!"
…until one of them tripped over her.
She managed to regain the rest of her senses long enough to get a glimpse.
One was a black-haired man wearing a black coat with a bit of fuzz around the collar and cuffs.
The other was blonde, wearing sunglasses and a bartender's outfit… and looking pissed.
At least, until he saw her.
"What the hell…?" he gasped. He looked over. "Oi, Izaya! This another sick game of yours?!"
The other man, Izaya, sneered. "Don't be ridiculous, Shizuo-chan- why would I make a game where I'd trip over a naked girl?"
She began to tremble, her eyes drifting over.
Her clothes had been torn to shreds. Even her favorite Affliction© jacket. Her cap was lying far away.
"Hey… she's still awake!" Shizuo knelt down beside her. "Oi! Can you speak? What happened?"
She continued to shake. Raindrops were mixing with her tears.
"Isn't it obvious, you protozoan?" Izaya scoffed, covering her with his jacket.
She still felt cold.
She would never feel good again.
"She was raped."
She wished she were dead.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Next chapter: A view of some friends, and the reveal of the victim's identity. The truth may just shock you.
For those of you not scarred and wish to continue… go on.
Cameos:
Izaya and Shizuo-Durarara!