You can't rape the willing...

It was rape! It was rape! No one believed her. After all, she was a professional whore. But there's a difference in being willing and being a whore isn't there? Just because she sold her body to countless men and women didn't mean she wanted it from everything that moved. It didn't mean she couldn't be scarred by the act... And it certainly didn't mean she couldn't become pregnant.

She was advised to abort the wretched thing. It isn't like she should lead the same life style while with child, nor would most want her in this state. She would have to suspended during the length of her pregnancy. What she did to earn money in the meantime was of her own business. After all, what benefits would there be for a whore who got herself pregnant AND kept it? And kept the child she did.

Why? Why is what we oft want to ask of such events where the subject reacts in such an unusual behavior. Why does the bird sing the selfsong, why does it make it known to enemies? Why does the wildebeast fight and fight for it child only to loose it in the end and unvaribly be lost from the heard, soon to go down as its child did. No, we do not ask why, we merely except that it was. Perhaps it was because she was lonely, or she felt pity for it. Perhaps the years of selling her body made her want to have some part of it for her own. It merely was as it was.

But to support this child? Was she out of her mind? She was living on the proverbial edge into actual paupency. What would she do with such a thing, when she could scarce feed herself? And so it came to pass, the inevitable. To let the child live, but to totally relinquish it, let go of it. Torture for the child through its ages, but a relief to the mother that would grow uncomfortable over the years.

You never loved me, you never even saw me.

But I, I loved you, for always

"Zaaaffeeeelll... the woman offspring of dirty prostitute." The boy, Roshie, tugged at Zafel's shirt suggestively, tauntingly. His dark auburn hair shimmered beneath the sunshine and for a second his taunting smile seemed almost... pleasant. A blush rose to the young boy's face only to subject himself to more taunting. Tetherie, the strawberry blond with wispy hair began to lift his own shirt. "You like that don't you, little Zaffie?" Roshie ran a hand over Zafel's shoulder and chest. "Don't be so shy, you know what they say, you can't rape the willing." The most sensual smirk appeared across Roshie's face, and echoed on Tetherie's face as well. It always occurred to Zafel that these two were a little too good at playing gay. They made Zafel blush, and at times they could even rise an odd tickling sensation between his legs.

But he knew he was straight. How could he be gay when he hated the entire male race?! He had never in all his 13 years found a man he could trust. The girls he treasured, he could trust. Sure some could be tricky, but they nearly never could begin to taste malice as men did. He liked to look on them too, the way their entire body seemed so supple, like liquid, even in their movements. Their gentle curves guided his eyes naturally over their form. There was so much more to hold on to, to caress and become lost in... Yes, Zafel admitted his thoughts were a little odd for a boy his age, but he had always been romanced and entralled by the females since the beginning. Besides, being teased about your sexuality makes you think on their bodies so much more...

Gay jokes he could tolerate. But their other favorite game he despised. He knew they did it mainly to get a rise out of him, but he couldn't resist. It was his mom they were talking about. A tremor passed over him, a twitch of the eyes, a fist pulled bach and released in the closest one's, Roshie's, face. And as usual, he was dragged into isolation. The adults never understood what was going on, and he was punished in this fashion a numarous amount of times, no matter the truth that Zafel was being harassed, molested.

It got worse. He came back from the playground with cuts, ugly bruises, sprained ankles, and dislocated joints. The adults rarely noticed. Those that did told him to toughen up. All but one that was. She wasn't really an adult though, but just a grown-up orphan herself.

Her name was Rachel and she was the only one that cared for him there. She would wash the blood from his skin, bandage him up, do anything to ease the pain. She even kissed the top of his head and instantly his agitated soul was lulled. Funny thing was she was kin to him. Funny she would admit that even to him. She had come from a prestigous family of high social standing, all of which had been hopelessly murdered.

She was his only companion and she meant everything to him, in a childlike way of merely wishing to please her. But she detested Zafel's mother. Although he played along as she spoke out against his mother, he hid that really it hurt him to hear such things. He loved his mother and no one could ever change that. His mother who named him the ancient word for "woman." In his early years, no matter how they teased him for it, he never had any resentment to the name. It made it easier for him to keep sane, so to speak.

Forbidden thoughts for no one to see,

don't you feel better now, they've been set free?

Another year went by, and the quarrels with the boys got worse. Zafel was tired of being harrassed; he fought back! But he wasn't the only one to toughen up. Full-blown fights, a whirlwind of fists, often occured before a supervisor would break them up. Zafel began to spit profanities and threats at the boys even as he was being dragged off to isolation. He had had more than enough of these brats. Why couldn't they just leave him the hell alone?!

He sat in the isolation room, which locked from the outside, and slumped against the wall, trying to settle his nerves. He spat out a tooth, luckily it was one of the few baby teeth he had left. He wiped at his eyes, willing himself not to cry. He was tired of this place, this place where one day couldn't go by without him being harrassed. It made him feel weary, feel old. He buried his face in his grimy, dirty, and somewhat calloused hands, exhausted. He was bleeding from his arm and nose, but he didn't really much care. Cuts and pain were a part of his everyday life.

Slowly, he heard the door unlock. He tensed. Soft footsteps. A pair of hands set down a bowl and glass of water before him. He looked up and smiled bitterly. It was sister, his affectionate name for Rachel. She gave him a gentle smile and began to gingerly wipe the dirt and blood of his skin for bandaging.

Meanwhile, Roshie sat in his room at the windowsill, unpunished. Tetherie sat nearby, sensing something was wrong with his friend. "Roshie?" He asked softly. The auburn haired boy remained silent. He closed his eyes and saw the vurnerable light blond boy, Zafel. He had been having so much fun today, why did Zafel always have to take his fists up against him? It isn't like Roshie ever started the fights. He never harmed Zafel but out of self-defense. Roshie ran a hand through his hair frustratedly. Why did he care that Zafel got into scraps with him anyway? He deserved to get his ass kicked, didn't he? The little gay in the making. The blond always tried to hide it, but Roshie saw that he still cried from being hurt. Even in the middle of a scrap, there were tears in his eyes. He didn't keep them in for later. Roshie always knew that. And maybe that was why he was so relucant to fight the boy.

Roshie had spotted Zafel as he came outside to have his lunch. Zafel sat there on the steps to the playground. He looked so alone as he sat there watching the other kids play. Without thinking, he found himself making his way to the blond boy. He sat next to him, and immediately Tetherie sat on his opposite side. Tetherie never questioned Roshie, only followed.

"Whatcha doing over here all on your lonesome?" Roshie could not keep the taunting tone out of his voice. It was habit. Zafel twitched and said nothing. "I'm sure you'd like some company... of your own kind." Roshie smiled broadly and wrapped and arm around Zafel, leaning his head on Zafel's shoulder. On the other side of him, Tetherie did the same and lightly touched his nose to Zafel's neck. Zafel tensed up. "Come on, why don't you relax, Zaffie? Just because your mommy's probably killed by some bum by now doesn't mean you can't have a little fun." Roshie teased as he began a slow teasing massage down his back. Zafel bit his lip and sort of growled, not wanting to admit that the massage was pleasant.

"Aw, how cute, he's getting feisty." Tetherie teased in his girlish voice and began to nip lightly at Zafel's neck. "You really know how to turn a guy on," He continued, hoping to strike a nerve in Zafel. Roshie glared at Tetherie. He had not wanted to get into a fight today. Tetherie gave him an innocent look that said "What?" But still Zafel let the torture go on. He didn't really feel like fighting either. So he just shoved them off.

"Leave me alone," He said trying to not make it sound like a whine.

Roshie chuckled, "Oh, look, he speaks now to pretend like he wants to resist us. Come on, Zafel, no reason for games. We know you like it." With that he squirmed his way onto Zafel's lap and kissed his neck playfully.

"..." Zafel stared down at Roshie in shock and disgust. Roshie looked up to him, his light brown eyes shining. In Zafel lap, he looked so small and defenseless. Almost cute. Tetherie looked on, puzzled at Zafel's lack of response. Roshie took the oppurtunity to slide a hand up under Zafel's shirt and tease his chest. There was a grin on Roshie's face, his tongue lingering over the corner of his lips.

"I knew you'd give in eventaully, Zafel, after all sluttiness is in your blood." That brought Zafel back. Pow! A punch to his jaw, sending him flying off. Tetherie grabbed Zafel angrily and pushed him to the ground and began pummeling him.

"Why- can't- you- just- keep- your- hands- off- of- Roshie- for- once?!" he yelled with each punch. Zafel kicked him off and puched him hard in the face.

"Why don't you keep your hands off of me?! Zafel growled, only to get his butt kicked more.

Roshie now pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them close and buried his face between them. Why did he feel so horrible? Zafel was just a playground enemy. Why should he care.. that he got so close.. and yet ruined it all? He hid the rising blush, curling up on himself even more. The memory of Zafel's face as he sat in his lap would not go away! What was wrong with him?!

Tetherie scooted closer to him and lightly touched Roshie's arm. "What's wrong?" He asked tenderly in his girlish tone, without meaning to. Roshie looked up, tears in his eyes and his face pink, with a look of confusion.

"Why do you care?" he asked him bluntly, upset.

"Well, I am your... friend... am I not?" Tetherie's voice remained in tenor. What was wrong with him that he was using the same tone with Roshie as he did when teasing Zafel.

"Is this some kind of joke?!" He growled.

"N-no.." Tetherie offered weakly.

"Then why are you speaking to me this way?"

"What?" he asked confusedly.

"Your voice, why are you acting gay to me?"

Tetherie realized his mistake. In his concern for Roshie, he had forgotten to mask his voice as a regular guy. He looked down, ashamed. What could he say? That all this time he had been following him around, it was because he just wanted to be close to Roshie? That he wasn't as "normal" as Roshie had originally thought? Tetherie's happiness was about to be cut short.

What bitterness can escape the soul?

A bitter heart earns no friends

"Why?!" Zafel sobbed against her shoulder, the only comfort he knew. "Why does no one like me?! Why the hell should it matter who my mother is?! We're all orphans here, it isn't like most of them even know anything about their mothers! They could be just like me! At least I know something about where I came from..." Rachel just held him close, running a hand lightly through his hair. Her "little brother" held so much bitterness and hurt in his heart. She knew little of what she could do for him but be there for him. "I hate them all, they're all hypocrites! Even the ones that don't pick on me, they ignore me! They think I'm some sort of beast and I'll just crack at any moment and hurt them! Does no one see that I always get beaten up the worst, that I'm the victim, the wimp here?! Why can't they just believe in something other than rumors?! What the hell did I ever do to them?! To anybody?!" He sobbed against her shoulder, long and hard.

"They just don't understand my little Zaffie... and please stop using such profanities, it doesn't suit you..." She said softly, running her hand through his hair.

"Uh-huh.." he sniffled, only agreeing on the outside. He hated them all, all of the boys there. They had to be pure evil... The way he was treated was so inhumane, even by the people that ran this place. Rachel was all he had, but if he had the chance, he'd leave this place in a heartbeat. But this, this was to happen much sooner than he had anticipated. There were just some things in which changed you so ultimately, hurt you so voilently, nothing could stop you from running as hard as you can.

Dirty lies, Lullibies

who would want your dirty eyes?

"Teth?" Roshie couldn't believe it. He had not once seen this boy cry before in their seven years of friendship. Well, except when he got that really bad head injury... but otherwise.. "Tetherie?" he asked, but again no response. When Roshie approached him, Tetherie flinched and ran for it. "Tetherie!" What was his problem? Roshie decided to let him go. Already his thoughts were wandering elsewhere.

Zafel. Why could that guy not leave his mind? He sighed and stretched out on his bed. Upon closing his eyes, he saw the image again. Zafel's face above him, a hint of a smile, his hair brightly highlighted in the sun and his hair gently tussled by the breeze. Why did he think of him so? Suddenly, he was angry. That perv was changing him, or tricking him at least! To think that boy had tempted him, made Roshie think he liked Zafel, even as a friend! But what was more, these images of a pleasant Zafel couldn't be healthy. That seductress, just like his mother, trying to work his magic on him! No wonder he cried, he really did want Roshie all along! That gross jerk, he never thought Zafel was actually enjoying all those taunts. It had all been a joke to Roshie, he never thought Zafel was actually gay! And now, Roshie felt so tainted for feeding the fire of Zafel's desire so long. No wonder he got so mad at Roshie. He wanted more than play-teasing! He almost felt bad about what he'd done to Zafel. Almost. He brushed his teeth and set out to end this.

Lift the mask, so the people can see

what you have become

.;! Insano !;.

.;end ch.1 Hope you enjoyed it.;.