Ginny had known, even as she had wiped her eyes and told her Mother that she would be okay, that it was a lie. Something was wrong. Even though Harry had destroyed it, had shown her the large wound and bleeding ink, Ginny knew it wasn't over. Because even if the soul was gone, even if Tom couldn't hurt her anymore, he already had. The wounds he'd inflicted on her were still there. His fingerprints were all over her mind. She was covered with inky memories and his whispers in her head. Yes, Tom was gone. But he had left Ginny behind. To become like the diary. To preserve his memory.
Yet, Ginny could understand. Death is terrifying, no matter what form you are in at the time. Once you are dead, you are forgotten. It's terrifying to think that you're so meaningless that you left no mark on anything. But Ginny had been the sixteen year old's piece of clay. He had left his imprint all over her, so that no one ever forgot about him, least of all Ginny.
At first she was okay. Once she was home again, it was like the summer before her first year. The summer before Tom. She laughed again. She felt alive again. Tom was gone. Ginny could breathe.
But he was never truly forgotten. When Ginny returned to Hogwarts, his shadow was lurking on every wall. Every act was dictated by the echo of his voice. His breath was always on her ear, telling her what to think. Ginny thought she was insane. Tom was gone, but she was keeping him alive. Her mind wouldn't let him go. Or was it the other way around?
It became harder to tell what were her decisions and what were Tom's. Did she really mean to slap George for scaring her? Or did Tom say he deserved it?
The worst part of it was that Ginny knew it was all her fault. It wasn't Tom's. Tom was gone. It was Ginny who kept his memory alive. It was Ginny that still took his advice even though he wasn't really giving it to her. It was Ginny that couldn't kill her fears.
She began to resent Harry. Couldn't he have let her die down in that chamber? Was that too much to ask? She didn't want him to be her hero anymore-- to save her like she'd imagined in the summer before Tom. She'd wanted to die right along with the diary. She'd wanted to feel the poison sting her, the fang pierce through her, the darkness claim her. But only Tom was allowed to feel such things. He always took away the things she wanted most. Tom even stole her death. And Ginny was left with what he had truly wanted, hating every minute of it, going out of her mind because of it, wishing to be him rather the soul that held his memory. His living diary.
So that no one would ever forget.