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She’s Been Smashed Up Into Tiny Pieces
There is a murder case of a teenage girl in Tokyo, Japan in 1989 who was raped hundreds of times by four teenage boys and their gang member friends that I occasionally think about.
They kidnapped her one evening after she got off from her shift at a part-time job.
They dropped weights on her.
They used her as a punching bag.
They mutilated parts of her body.
They put her in a freezer at night or put her out on the balcony in the winter of ‘89.
They stepped or jumped on her head. They stuck needles into her body. They tore off her left nipple. They starved her. They urinated on her. They forced her to dance for them. They burned cigarettes on her. Her nose bled because her internal organs were damaged to the point when breathing through nose hurt; she had to breathe through her mouth as a result.
I don’t blame this girl’s mother, upon hearing all the gruesome details of her daughter’s torture and eventual death, for going crazy.
The girl’s mother spent her remaining life in a mental institution.
I imagine her hitting herself and wondering why her daughter was hated so much that she had to die a horrible death.
