The news-piece regarding the gang-rape of a seventeen-year old girl filled me with such revulsion as I had never felt before. The revolting thought of inhuman monsters who walk amongst us, feigning innocence, concealing their wicked, lascivious designs on every passing woman with a civilized veneer, always looking for the opportunity to force themselves on a defenseless fellow-being - a woman who must have been someone's sister or daughter- sent a shudder through my whole body as if I had just touched an abhorrent reptile.
I tried to imagine how the rape must have taken place - faceless monsters defiling the body of a young woman, ripping the clothes off her, touching her in places that are forbidden to everyone but lovers and husbands; a stranger drooling over her, thrusting his organ into her, sliding in and out, while a man kept her mouth covered to stop her frenzied screams, another man holding her legs fastened to the ground as they flailed and tried to hit them with the little strength she had against her masculine violators. I wonder how she must have felt - Oh God! When is this nightmare going to end !Those creatures appearing to her as figures silhouetted against the sunlight, blotting out the sun as if cutting off the last remaining rays of God's grace on this earth, leaving a planet that is desolate of humanity.
For her remaining life, if she didn't end up as a vegetable living on tubes and syringes, she would be haunted by those figures that had reduced her to an object of lust, the basest instinct of men, which is so easily unleashed on weak, lonely women.
For her remaining life, if she didn't end up as a vegetable living on tubes and syringes, she would be haunted by those figures that had reduced her to an object of lust, the basest instinct of men, which is so easily unleashed on weak, lonely women.
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