Disclaimer - I don't own anything. JKR does.
This chapter is dedicated to Scubarang because I love her and her pushy ways!
Death.
It was something she had wished for every minute of every day since she had been taken. She wanted to be six foot under, with a small granite headstone letting people know that was her resting place. She wanted people to grieve for her but know she was in a better place. She wanted to see her family and friends again. See how they looked upon the living and join them as they hoped and wished for a better life for the future generation. To her, death would be a sanctuary, away from pain and suffering. Death was a placed to be cleansed and purified, away from the dirt of the world. To her, death would bring new beginnings and adventures.
But she wasn't allowed to die.
She had to withstand pain and torture that was unfit for animals, let alone humans. Trying desperately to keep the tears inside, she gripped onto the stone wall, feeling the sting of her skin breaking and her nails peeling away. She didn't want to fall; she didn't want to bow down to them. She would not bow down to them.
Agony washed through her body and she shuddered, and suddenly the pain was gone and the door to her prison was bolted firmly closed. She was blissfully alone again with only her whimpers to comfort her. She let herself fall into a shivering heap on the cold, damp floor and waited until it was time for her to stand once again to receive the beating she so rightly deserved.
There were no windows in her cell and she couldn't see anything apart from the deep shadows in her mind. This was a hell unto itself. Her mind played tricks on her; she swore she could see pale yellow lights dancing in front of her face. Sometimes she would talk to them, hesitantly at first, but then she would tell them everything. They were her friends, her angels, and they had come to save her from the darkness and take her into the light.
She told the angels about her family and friends. She spoke about the war and how Voldemort had beaten their only hope for a better world, of Harry Potter and how he had been viciously displayed for all to see, floating high in the air, his lifeless body controlled by his murderer's wand. Everyone had stopped fighting. She still remembered the shock that had rippled through the crowd. People werefalling down in grief and weeping in anger at the sight, but the fight had continued with renewed vigour.
She explained how the the Order of the Phoenix fought back with sheer loathing and vengeance whilst the Death Eaters had been ruthless and brutal to such an extent that the battlefield became an ocean of red. People fled the grounds of Hogwarts in terror, retreating from merciless torture and death. Their beliefs and freedom diminished with each anxious step they took as the Death Eaters gained control of their lives.
She admitted to her angels that Voldemort had truly won.
Night after night she spun the familiar tale about life after Harry's death. The new regime was dated; it felt like they had moved a back a few hundred steps in time. Lord Voldemort's views were narrow-minded and selfish. He fed his huge ego and status with new laws and a class system, fully re-instating the pure-blood hierarchy. He was now completely untouchable.
He appointed Lucius Malfoy, the purest of all pure-bloods, as Minister of Magic. The blond wizard was merely a puppet in a world where Lord Voldemort was the puppet master, controlling the strings from above. Malfoy was to be the "face" of the "New Code" and spokesperson for his master, as the ruler in question was still vain enough to know his body and looks repelled the people whose lives he now dictated.
Pure-bloods were treated like royalty, and the new law decreed that they be treated with the utmost respect and courtesy as they were high-class citizens, given the most freedom. Half-bloods, although they were middle-class, could not be discriminated against because of their bloodlines, a selfish law made by Voldemort to benefit himself. The half-bloods had the least changed lifestyle of anyone; some became profitable business witches and wizards by using the class system to their advantage, setting up small boutiques and using their skills to charge an extortionate amount of money for their goods and services.
Muggle-borns, or Mudbloods as they were called, were treated like criminals. They had to go through a string of tests to ensure that their magic was not "stolen" and that their magical abilities were valid and strong enough to compete in the wizarding world. Most Muggle-borns returned back to the non-magic world, signing magical contracts that stated they would have nothing more to do with the wizarding world.
Witches and wizards, although they were free, still lived in fear. The Death Eaters filled the streets, in their black robes emblazoned with silver Dark Marks, making sure nobody broke the rules, keeping a tight rein on anything suspicious.
After three quiet years, Voldemort's little world had been perfect. That was, until she came along to disrupt it all. She started a rebellion, gathering followers and growing stronger every day. They all had one thing in common—determination. She had been a fantastic leader. Strong, fiery, she had the fierce determination of a true warrior.
She remembered vividly the fast duels between her rebels and the small group of Death Eaters Voldemort had sent to capture her. She had been daring, and she knew now that she had pushed the monster too far by sending him an owl one hour after his followers left his compound to notify him that she had taken them hostage. Voldemort was obviously furious that his specially trained Death Eaters had been outsmarted by a blood traitor.
Her face had paled at the sight of an even smaller team of Death Eaters; she knew, deep in her heart, that these men were not like the last group. They were organised, quick, and even more powerful than expected. They were the elite mercenaries she had heard about through passing rumours. These men were ruthless, cold-hearted, and skilled to the highest degree.
She watched, frozen to the ground in horror, as they killed her friends one by one. She didn't put up a fight when she was grabbed from behind; believing it was her time to die, she went willingly. But when the bloodstained gloves of the mercenary grabbed her face and forced her took look as Luna, her best friend, was savagely tortured in front of her, she snapped out of her frozen stupor. She struggled in his steel grip and cried and screamed. She pleaded and begged him to kill her instead; she did not want to watch or hear the suffering of her best friend.
"Shut up or I will make you kill her," he told her viciously.
Taking out his wand he looked her in the eyes as he pointed it directly at Luna. His prisoner continued to plead with him, offering to do anything. He gave her a smirk.
"I can make you do anything I want. So be a good, quiet little witch and watch the show, sweetheart. It's going to be magnificent."
Her voice had gone; he'd silenced her without using his wand or murmuring an incantation. His magic was strong, and as she clutched at his robes, silently begging him, he lowered his head so that his breath whispered against her neck, causing her to close her eyes as unwanted chills ran down her spine. He Apparated her away as soon as Luna's last howl of pain died into soft whimpers.
When they Disapparated, he lifted her up into his arms; she could feel his strength as he held her tight against his chest. She continued to clutch at his robes, soft cries for help breathlessly leaving her lips as pain and anguish curdled within her.
The Death Eater stopped walking when he reached the entrance to a dark room. He carefully pried her hands from his bloody robes and gently pushed her down onto a cold stone bench.
Pushing her hair away from her face, he stared at her from behind his silver mask. His grey eyes were cold and lifeless but enticingly beautiful. Unaware of what she was doing, she raised her hand to touch his mask, causing him to jerk backwards and let go of her face.
Giving her one last glimpse of those disturbingly striking eyes, he left her in darkness, left her to succumb to the black obscurity that was now her home. At the beginning they had brought her food and warm water to wash away the mud and the blood. But she refused to eat, determined not to give them a chance to kill her. She would die her own way; she would not submit to their commands.
She had no family and no friends. She was alone.
But Ginny Weasley still had her pride.
A/N - Okay...*crosses fingers* I hope you guys liked the beginning of the new improved Wicked Insult. In the next few chapters you will probably notice bits of the story stays the same and others drastically change. Hopefully you will enjoy re-reading this and I would be ever so pleased if you could review to let me know if you do like it...or hate it!
Big thanks to Mamacita my beta. She's wonderful!