[ WP ] Each village has a designated `` scapegoat '' that everyone takes their issues out on . Write about the life of this person .

`` You like that you fucking whore?'' 
 
 Jessie stared lifelessly into the ceiling. Sometimes it helped to try and count the ceiling fan's rotations, other times it did n't. Some men ignored her eyes rolling inadvertently, following the blades. Others gave her a firm smack across the face for her insolence. Her aggressor pounded vigorously into her -- tearing her even wider with each thrust. It would be over soon, judging from the quickening rhythm. 
 
 `` Look at me you cunt!'' The aggressor barked, doling out a viscous backhand. 
 
 She knew it. Jessie looked into his raging eyes and felt the familiar quiver. The attacker let loose a disgusting groan, spending his seed inside of her. 
 
 It was over quicker than she expected, but being the village scapegoat, it was of little matter. The next angry citizen could come in a day, an hour, or be rapping at the door within seconds. The men mostly raped, or beat and raped, or a combination of the two. The only refuge was the occasional `` lover'', who offered to take her away. Rescue her. Marry her. She was obligated to refuse, which ended in beatings or rapes. They were the quickest. 
 
 The women were just as savage. The scarring from fingernails raked across her eyes was always a fleshy pink - and stung a bit, too. Or the gash from a heel dug into her breast, which felt like a bruise eternal. 
 It was easier to remember what the women were raging about - always a cheating husband, overlooked for a promotion, or general dissatisfaction of their drab housewife lives. 
 
 In a way, it was an easier life than any of theirs. Her soul was nothing more than a husk, made to house the subtle, and some not so subtle cruelties of life. For this, surely she could gain some forgiveness, and have a better life dead.
