When the sorority needs a laughingstock male, they know they can indulge their silliness and despise me and not want to look, later, at the bad impulses brought to the surface because i came voluntarily to let them act out on me.
Every kick bruises, each step on my flesh -- they never go as far as i would be unable to stop them from going -- squeezes dignity out of me.
They laugh, and then, when they're tired, tell me no one who isn't filth and a pervert would allow them to go ahead with what they've just done, and i'm expelled, dirty, into an evening.
Hurt. Shame. They're right.
