She felt the eyes. She didn't see them, nor did any one else, but she felt them on her. When she went to sleep, she felt them, only when she awoke did she have a moments rest. They didn't come back to her until she left her house in the morning, to make her way to school.
She wasn't an ugly girl, nor was she was especially beautiful. She didn't keep up with the trends, nor did she care for them. She was who she was, and that was always good enough for her.
She went to school everyday, and got rather good grades, an occasional B here or there. Her friends were few, but unique. They were true to her.
It seemed everything was going well for her, her adoption on earth going well. Everything looked up, and she feared nothing, truly.
Until the eyes.
The eyes were the beginning, the feeling of something not right, the feeling of something malicious, of something evil.
One day, she was walking home from a friend's house. She hadn't felt the eyes in quit a few days, but she wouldn't let herself believe that they were gone.
She stopped.
They were on her; she felt them again, as they bore into the back of her skull.
And then she felt the hands. The rough, old, hardened hands on her soft flesh, pulling her back, taking her into the ally.
She didn't scream as he stripped her clothes, as he took away her innocence. She knew that it would do nothing, nothing would help her, and this man had her, whoever he was.
She was taken somewhere. Where, she knew not. And then everything went black.
When she awoke, it was to darkness as pure as anything she had ever known. A pain erupted from her abdomen, and her buttocks, as she sat there, stripped of her clothes and her pride.
Something sliced into her back, her mouth was covered as something pressed in and the skin and pressured out the red.
Her life moments away, violated, those who proarbly read this would feel a touch of erection,
satisfied, even envying the idea that beauty was sexualised.
Untill they read on to find that the girl of blue hair wasn't even a teenager and had a sister who grieved and lost her beauty because of it.
Then they would become revolted but that would not attone for what they wishly desired in their minds, put off by the fact that she was too young to be abused but it didn't mean to say they hated it either. Tenchi hated it but over time even he found that he couldn't change the twisted desire that lurked in the minds of men.
This story serves nothing to highlight a fact that rape would always be a fascinated idea to some, dispelled if briefly only because when they choose to read the detils of the incident and of that victim's age. If tenchi is to be different then that is for his purity of his mind and that is how I see him as.