Author's Note: A one-shot (divided in two parts) where I pushed myself really far, I hope that you'll see what I saw in these words. I hope you'll like it, because I pushed myself into this. But, however, I'm happy and proud of this result as it is, even though every critic is welcomed. I have to say that I wrote this, or actually I started writing this just after having read Hurt a fanfiction by cravenroad7. Don't ask me why I wrote this, but the importance of Hurt, the themes that are mentioned in that fic, made me trying to push myself into this. I'm crazy, I know. But it's how I write, I usually do to celebrate something, maybe a film, a book, a fic I liked as it happened with Hurt. Now I'll shut up. Read and enjoy!
Advertisements: This piece of fic contains themes that are not adapted to a sensible reader. If you're disturb, don't read.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters and I'm not making moeney by writing this story.
Fragility
Behind the hardest aggressiveness, the greatest fragility is hidden.
How did I arrive here? - She asked herself pulling two fingers out of her throat. How did she arrive to hurt herself, to not care for her body nor for her soul?
A single tear left her eyes, gently falling to the ground. It hurt, she felt pain, everytime she provoked herself vomit. It was destructive but she felt the urge to do it, even though she knew it wouldn't have taken her anyway.
She tried to stand up, but her legs were shaking hardly, she couldn't control it.
She could feel her hair sweaty for the effort of emptying her stomach. She could imagine her harsh voice if she had tried to speak. She could imagine her red eyes, her broken capillaries brighten in the green irises of her.
Her whole body hurt, badly, her soul was crying, crying because her conscience knew this wasn't right, but at the same time, this was what she needed to feel better. Every time she emptied her stomach and she felt the pain, something inside of her was happy, she had inside herself more strength to face life.
Nobody would have ever imagined what was happening to her, nobody. She was the perfect girl she has always been, nothing in her behavior ever changed. She just stopped longer in the bathroom; she was only a bit thinner, nothing else.
Maybe it was a desperate call she did to her parents, to her family to be noticed. She was the younger, she was the "baby". But nobody looked after her, nobody looked at her, nobody said "You made something good, Ginny." There was no time for her, she had to be patient, she had to wait, she had to listen, but nobody ever listened to what she had to say.
When they were eating, the unique moment when they were all together, as she tried to speak, somebody began to talk over her. And she didn't protest, because they were all people she loved. But did anybody love her?
They haven't noticed she was anorexic yet, how could they love her? They just didn't want to see something they didn't like, and probably she was one of those things.
"Ginny, have you finished?"
Charlie's voice came out of the blue, the girl forced her body to stand up, cleared her throat twice and then replied. "Yes, just give me one minute."
Washing her face, cleaning all the bad she did, she stared at her reflexion. She had grown up, or maybe her expression seemed more mature, too mature for her age. Her eyes weren't innocent anymore, there was an heavy truth inside those green irises, a truth unknown for everybody apart from her. Nobody saw her, nobody looked at her as a human being, so why did she have to possess a body? Why did she have the slender and long twin arms? And what about her legs? She was nothing, she was...
A knock disturbed her thoughts. "I'm waiting!" exclaimed her brother impatiently.
"I'm coming...!" replied Ginny a little angered. Did anyone respect her?
"Finally!" commented the boy before entering in the bathroom. Will they ever understand?
Slowly she went upstairs, ready to refuge herself in her room to think.
There's was fog outside, a deep blanket covered the scenery of which she was so in love with. It was cold, she froze shivering as she felt a gust of wind from her bedroom. Merlin, she had left her window opened! Autumn was slowly approaching, the summer was dying and school would soon begin again. Nothing worse could ever happen.
When she was in others company, she was completely different to the "good, childish, normal" Ginny her family knew. She had learnt to build a barrier, a cold screen behind which she hid perfectly. It was a screen of confidence, of anger and aggressiveness that covered her fragility. She searched for every company she was able to find so she was called "bitch" by her classmates. But they couldn't understand, she needed to be like this, otherwise she felt ripped apart. Experiencing shock feelings was the only way to keep herself alive.
As she reached the upper floor a voice called her. "What do you want, Ron?" she replied indifferent.
"Tomorrow Hermione and Harry are arriving," said her brother "Tidy up your room, Hermione is going to sleep with you."
Anger burnt inside of her as the boy closed the door in front of her face. What was she? An object? No, Viktor Krum's model was better treated.
She slammed the door of her bedroom, falling on her bed and silently crying. Frustration fell on her, almost suffocating her, tears were so dry it was painful to cry. She had cried too much in the past.
She could feel the cold outside freezing her soul, she didn't close the window, she didn't want to. The wind was embracing her like nobody ever did, neither her numerous lovers embraced her as the wind did. She remembered Dean, Ron's classmate, Roger Davies, Cedric Diggory too. But there were others, Blaise Zabini from Slytherin, George Warrintong and Draco Malfoy too. There had been so many people that had violated her soul and her body she couldn't even remember. She had lost the count, if she ever counted them, she needed to be used, she needed to be violated to stay alive, she needed those great painful feelings to prove herself she was a human being.
A sob escaped from her lips as her hands tightened on the cushion. She wanted to cry, she wanted to cry so hard that her voice would have ripped apart, that the all world would have heard her screaming, but no sound escaped her throat, not anymore.
Like always. It had always been like this, and always will remain.
A week had passed from that horrible afternoon but nothing had changed, she was the same transparent Ginny and her family was the same blind family she was so used to.
"Will you help me preparing the table, Ginny?" asked Molly Weasley while she was cooking a big turkey.
"Yeah." replied humbly the 18 girl. She would have liked to shout at her mother, refusing to do everything she was told to do, but the words never came out. And so she prepared the dishes, she counted the glasses and she prepared every single fork and knife they needed. Sometimes she felt the urge of hurt herself, physically, with more than the vomit. The knife's tip brightened inviting her to use it, but she forced herself to think to something else.
"Good girl, Ginny." said Molly with a smile. It would have been better for Ginny that her mother had never done that comment because she felt so stupid, so unuseful and so bad she wanted to put two fingers in her throat and vomit her whole being.
"You need to prepare another place, Ginny." Molly advised the daughter taking care of the turkey patiently.
"Why?" asked the girl harshly.
"Remus is coming tonight," simply replied Molly.
Ginny prepared another place, one place more, one place left, what was the difference? There was not any difference, it was all the same to her, and to everybody too.
"Where are Harry, Ron and Hermione?" asked then Ms Weasley.
"I don't know!" exclaimed Ginny frustrated. "Why don't you call them? I'm not your slave!" she cried with all her voice.
"Ehi little girl! Watch your tone!" exclaimed Molly Weasley staring at her daughter who slammed the kitchen's door behind herself. She glanced once more towards the door, the image of Ginny still lingering in her mind, was something strange?
No.
She replied herself shaking her head and paying once more attention to the turkey. Ginny was always the little good girl she has always been.
Ginny stopped in front of the stairs, looking intensely upstairs. The voices amazed of Harry, Ron and Hermione were echoing in her mind, tediously repeating in her ears. Were they laughing? Were they having fun? Yes, they have. Alone. Only the three of them. She was not one of the Trio, she was the little humble Ginny. Anger burnt inside herself, as she ran out of the house, her legs were shaking as they tried to run as fast as they could.
Born to be alone. She had no friends, and even though she had have, it would have been any difference, every man live and die alone. Nobody will have ever understand her, so why did she have to find someone to call "friend?".
Some times she had tried to speak to Hermione, she was the person for the most similar to a friend. But it seemed the strength left her just as she reached Hermione's room or someone just stepped in the room and interrupted them. Ginny had tried, maybe could have tried more, but she had lost any faith she ever had.
There were clouds at the horizon, big, gray, stormy clouds. They were roaring, threatening to discharge every single drop of rain they contained. Ginny stared at them. There were birds that were flying fast in the gray sky, shouting with their little verse so unintelligible to her. The wind was strong, the noise of the autumn's leaves was everywhere around her as she stopped running. She was still in the garden of the Burrow.
How she wanted to be outside! How she wanted to be one of those birds! Or, why not, one of those clouds, full of emotions, full of freedom...
She reached a thorny bush and cut her wrists on a sharp thorn and she felt the warm hot blood descending on her arm. It was alive, more alive than her soul. She touched that red liquid and she shivered. Then she felt something in her heart, something heavy, something painful and she started crying with no reason.
Half an hour later, Ginny came back in the house, she hadn't healed her cut, she wanted it to stay there, to remind her of her suffering. Maybe, unconsciously she hoped someone noticed it.
As she entered in the house, she noticed Ron and Harry who were playing chess, while Hermione was reading book.
"Ginny!" exclaimed Ron as he saw the sister. "Were have you been?"
"None of your busi..." she started replying.
"Ginny," interrupted Molly, "Look at Hermione, she's reading a book, you should do the same! That's why you never get high marks at school!" said Molly reproaching the daugther.
"I will," replied Ginny knowing that she would have never done something like that. "I'm going upstairs, I need to rest a bit." she announced moving towards the stairs.
"In one hour dinner will be ready," said Ms Weasley advertising the little Ginny. She shook her head and started going upstairs.
Embracing herself she prayed, she prayed things to be different. She felt sometimes as if it were all her fault, as if her family wasn't responsible. They loved her, they have always tried to make her feel comfortable, they had given a lot, despite being so poor. But why at the same time they were so terribly selfish? How could they not see what was happening inside herself?
It was not how things had to be.
She shook vigorously her head, trying to forget, trying to become normal. Her bed was waiting for her, waiting for her little body to embrace, and so she spread out on the bed, feeling comfortable, feeling free.
Loneliness was the key of her life. The more she stood alone, the best she felt. Life was too painful to be lived. Even though, pain was the only thing important in her life. It was for the pain she lived, it was to feel that ache in her stomach that she provoked herself vomit, it was to feel the pain on her wrists, the blood on her arm, on her hands that she cut herself. It was like, escaping pain, it was the only thing she could find.
In a fetal position she closed her eyes, embracing her knees with her arms, feeling so ripped apart that nothing, nothing in the world would ever be able to make her feel normal, happy.
Had she ever felt happy in her short life? She thought back to her childhood. She still remembered her father, when he embraced her and put her up towards the sky so that she pretended to fly. She could still feel his great, warm, secure hands on her waist, and she could still see the smile on his face. Why didn't he smile to her anymore?
Had she done something wrong?
"Why...?" she whispered in the silence of her room. "Why!" She shout knowing that nobody would have ever listened.
She stood up, walking towards the mirror, staring carefully at her figure. "You're worth living." she said herself looking exactly into her irises. "You don't deserve what you're doing yourself." she pronounced forcefully. "You don't deserve this." She said looking at her wrist's cut. You don't deserve pain... You didn't anything wrong.
Her serious face stared back, didn't anything else, just stared were high voices downstairs, she had to go.
Tonight she would have been different, she would have been kind, gentle, well disposed towards everybody, she would have helped, she wouldn't have thought, she would have just acted "normally".
With anxiety she went downstairs.
"Things at the Ministry...?"
"...Yeah, me and Harry are thinking to become Aurors, you know..."
"...No, I don't think I'll follow Ron and Harry, I'd like more to work at Hogwarts..."
Voices, voices as whispers continued to pass through her mind. There were so many people at the Burrow and nobody really meant something to her. She stepped in the kitchen, as a ghost, without a body, but she did have a soul.
"Dinner's ready!" exclaimed Molly capturing the attention of everybody.
Fred, George, Charlie, Bill, Ron, Harry, Hermione... Her father, Moody, Remus sat down, admiring the perfect inviting food Molly had cooked.
The only sight of food made Ginny sick. She swallowed. She was strong, she could face it.
But why was her heart pumping so hardly in her chest?
"Oh, Ginny, you're hear...! Please take the turkey and put it in the center of the table, then dear," Her mother said with a smile, "Could you bring me some leaves of the plants outside, please?"
Ginny breathed quickly, she closed her eyes, once or twice than nodded obeying to what her mother had asked.
"Hi father," Ginny whispered looking at her father as Arthur was talking to Moody about something "important" that had happened that morning at the Ministry.
Arthur smiled back.
"So, how are things at Hogwarts, Ginny?" asked her a deep voice as she was turning to sit down. She searched for the speaker. It was Remus.
"Just say that holiday is always better than school," said Ginny with a sad tone in her voice.
"You never want to study!" Molly reproached her, "If you were like Hermione..."
Ginny glanced angered at her mother, she almost felt hate towards her, almost.
"Oh, I'm sure Ginny thinks as every other teenager of her age," replied Remus with a smile towards the little red head.
"Yes, surely," replied Ginny seriously, "But I'm not supposed to be as every other teenager..." Her comment was a whisper, meant not to be heard by anybody, but Remus caught it, his expression changed suddenly. No one else noticed it.
"What do you think, mum?" asked then the twins "Could we go back to Hogwarts to greet our old teachers?"
"They might kill you, boys." Replied Arthur.
"Oh, come on dad!" exclaimed Fred with a smile, "I'm sure Piton would be really happy to see us." he said laughing.
"Yeah, just before to have an heart attack," interrupted Ginny smiling slightly.
"Exactly what I would like it happened!" replied George glancing a complicity look. "I'm sure the students would pay us millions of Galleons if anything happened to Piton..." commented Fred thoughtfully.
"That's sure," said Ginny feeling more comfortable.
There was a beautiful calm atmosphere which was loved by Ginny. It was as if she were came back to the times when she felt good, inside her body, deep inside her heart, with no thoughts, with no preoccupation in her mind, with nothing else that passion towards the life. It felt good.
"I'm sure you're exaggerating..." commented Remus, "I don't want to imagine what you were saying about me while I was a teacher." said with a veil of preoccupation in his voice.
"Come on! You were Professor Sweety!" exclaimed Ginny and Fred at the same time.
Remus almost suffocated himself with the piece of turkey he was eating. Suddenly he started coughing, his face becoming red. Every body who looked at him was laughing, and since so much time, also Ginny laughed, a genuine beautiful laughter.
"W-what was I?" asked Remus as he stopped coughing.
"I didn't know anything about this nickname!" protested Hermione glancing towards the Twins and Ginny who were smiling happily in front of the funny discomfort of the teacher.
"That's because you spent your time studying and you don't do anything else," replied dryly Fred.
"Anyway, we called you Professor Sweety because you were the sweetest teacher actually." explained George serious.
"I'm sure, Remus they were joking, now, Fred, George, Ginny," said Molly harshly, "Say excuse to Remus."
"Molly, I don't care," replied Remus smiling to the red-heads.
"Come on, mum!" protested Fred "We weren't the ones to invent it..."
"I don't care, you should have not called him that way." she continued rigidly.
The smile on Ginny's face had disappeared. Rigidness, maybe that was that made her life so painful. Maybe she should have left immediately. Merlin, she hated her mother. Why she had to act so?
Her father incited them to excuse towards Remus who was so embarrassed of the situation. Her father, probably she hated him too. He was so weak.
The conversation began again, but she had lost her strength, her purpose and her wanting of acting normally had died, immediately, suddenly. She just heard the other speaking, but she didn't spoke anymore, refuging in a world of her own. Suddenly all she had eaten weighed on her stomach like a stone, and she felt the urge of emptying her stomach.
"Stay here Ginny," said Molly "We haven't finished eating."
"I..." tried to say the girl.
"Sit down." insisted her mother pointing the chair left.
"I need to take a bit of fresh air," protested Ginny.
"Sit down," continued Molly.
Without answering, Ginny left the room, exiting in the garden.
She felt rage, and hate inside of her, she wanted that equilibrium she had felt talking with Fred and George, and Remus and Moody, she wanted to feel that comfortable feeling that she was able to sense only when she was far away from a family. She didn't want a family anymore.
Merlin...
Had she really thought to leave her family? The people that most of all loved her? So fool she was. She loved Molly, she loved Arthur, hating them at the same time. But she knew she would have loved them always.