The title and the quote under this bar is from a song called Paradise by Vanessa Carlton.
Disclaimer: I dont own South Park.
Nothing hurts and nothing bleeds when covers are tucked in tight…
She glided down the halls as an angel would; her beauty was seemingly unmatched by that of any girl in south park. Her pale skin was blemish free and her doe eyes possessed long, curled eyelashes, that, when batted just right, could charm the heart of any boy she knew. She was petite and well mannered; she simply looked so fragile and unattainable that even the most confident of males could hardly muster the courage to speak to her.
Bebe Stevens was truly lovely.
As the girl walked, every ringlet that fell all the way down her back bounced tastefully. You could hear people say she was a beautiful girl. Bebe's world revolved around her and her only, not that she noticed. Why people considered her outward appearance an advantage, she would never know. She could do nothing about it; she could only wear sports bras twenty-four seven and beg her mother to rid her of her long tresses; she detested her hair most of all.
Wendy would hold her hair and caress it with endless admiration; oh, how she wished for her hair to be curly and light. She'd straighten Bebe's hair so that it fell to her rear and would braid it and tie it up in endless styles and tangles. Bebe hated the sting of the roots being pulled and worn until they were close to ripping from her very head.
Bebe wished that her body was not so attractive; she wished her eyes were not so needy, that her breasts were not so large, and that her hair was not so golden and long. She reminded herself of how much she wished this when Clyde was holding her down and doing unspeakable things to her. She need not scream out for help; even though her mother and father were home, nobody would hear her. Bebe could shout at the top of her lungs in a crowded room, with a million people surrounding her, as they praising her for her flawless skin and curly lashes, and not a soul would acknowledge her agony. That is the reason Bebe let Clyde take advantage of her over and over again.
He noticed how she looked so sad. She never seemed as happy as she appeared. He would stop her, confront her, and always end with the same result; a fake laugh and a wave goodbye. He watched as Clyde would take her hand and drag her somewhere; she always seemed reluctant to go. He watched when she forgot to fight.
Bebe wished that she was invisible. She would prey every night until her eyes leaked; she pleaded with the god she was sure existed to take her away. To where he would take her could not mean less to her, as long as she was far from her mother, her father, Clyde, Wendy, her school, her town, and him. So, that one faithful day, when she became invisible, when she escaped, when she was away from all of them and left without so much as a goodbye, it was apparent that god had answered her plea.
And he cried.