They say a picture is worth 1000 words. This one is. Indeed, it speaks volumes and it is magnificent in what it conveys. There is not just a moment, but a novel in this image that speaks of not only the now, but her past, present, and future. Look at it and understand its truth.

A simple glance looks like some slut is just having fun with some boys, a wild night of drinking and debauchery. But that would be a lie to see it in so simple a way. Let me break it down for you.

Four men, excited and eager, have their hands on her. They paw at her with the desperation of youth. Another watches back in the distance. This moment will become fixated in their minds for the rest of their lives. They will brag about it tomorrow in hushed whispers or braggart tones. Even though it will be something unlikely to be repeated for them, a singularly amazing experience, they will still embellish it. And that story will only build and expand in time as they age. When they are seventy, they will still jerk off to that fond and distant memory. That one time they ganged a nasty slut who begged them all to use her, her smiles and need. It’s all a lie though. Not that they will know that in the past, the now, or as they think of it for the final time.

Now, look at the girl. There is a sixth person there, sex unknown, holding that camera or phone. Chronicling the events that will happen that night. You might think it will be a night of regret perhaps, or a night, like the guys, that will be fondly remembered.

She won’t remember it at all. Look at her. It’s not a special night, she’s not drunk or high. For her? It’s just Tuesday. Or Friday. It’s just another day. She looks bored at best, resigned, not angry but not happy either. It’s just a reality to her. It’s something that just happens right? Guys get grabby, they get demanding, and you simply just go along.

That girl? She’s been going along with things her entire life. You can see it, plain as day. She’s not into it, nor is she fighting them. It just is. It’s the look of someone who has been in enough similar situations for it to become routine. Normal. It’s just how guys are and what they do. Water is wet, the sun is bright, and that’s just how things work.

She’s had men touching her all her life. Not violently. Perhaps an uncle, a family friend, maybe a father figure. Maybe they’ve told her how pretty she was, how much they loved her, how what they do is special. Maybe she even believed it for a time. You can look at her now and tell, she knows whatever words they gave her were a lie. A lie probably started young, young enough to become accustomed to such things. To accept it, process it, and just decide the best thing is to let them have their fun and ride it out.