Chapter 1—Breathe No More

It was summer, but instead of enjoying the sunshine, Ginny Weasley was inside the Burrow. In previous summers, she had spent a good deal of the holiday outside the house. Yet this year, the summer before her fifth year, she hadn't stepped outside but for the few times her mother made her de-gnome the garden. Ginny stayed holed up alone in her room as much as she could while still keeping her mother convinced that everything was as it should be.

She was upstairs, sitting on the floor of her room that hadn't changed from the little-girl pink since before she had begun attending Hogwarts.

Ginny was fifteen now. It had been just over three years since Harry had saved her from death in the Chamber. Three years since she had talked to Tom in that bloody journal. It was Tom's fault that she stayed inside her room all day.

After everything that Tom made her do, she felt so guilty. She had almost killed people—she didn't mind about Mrs. Norris, and Nearly-Headless Nick didn't count because he was already dead—but if the others had died it would have been her fault. She had been the one to open the Chamber of Secrets, even if it had been at Tom's bidding.

This was the reason she sat on the floor of her room again, staring into the mirror on the back of the door, contemplating her reflection. The Ginny in the mirror looked normal, seemed whole. It was as if her soul was on the other side and all she was left with was an emptiness, a darkness that constantly reminded her of Tom and everything he did and made her do.

The first summer after, her parents tried to make her spend time in the psych ward at St. Mungo's, but knowing her parents had no way to afford the help, Ginny learned fast how to suppress everything and act like she was fine, like nothing had ever happened. The rest of the summer, she tried to go outside and enjoy the sunshine like she did when she was a child, but it was never quite right. She had lost her childhood innocence to Tom and nothing was the same anymore. Yet, she still tried to fight the darkness in those first few years. For her family's sake she tried to be normal.

Now, she had finally given up. It was just too hard to attempt normalcy anymore. She didn't even know what she was fighting for. It wasn't as though her family really cared anymore; they were oblivious to the fact that she was falling apart. They had been for years. Little pieces of her just kept falling away after Tom had shattered her. She couldn't put herself back together because the shards were too small and sharp, but they were still big enough to cut her soul even deeper.

Ginny felt like she was bleeding inside. It was so hard to breathe. She felt so empty, yet the bleeding seemed to fill the void. She had felt this way before. She would feel the darkness begin to take over again. In fighting it, in trying to put the pieces of her soul back together, she would bleed anew.

She wondered if real blood would fill it better…if real blood would help drive it away. She had wondered about that for a few months now. She had wondered for so long that, at the last Hogsmeade weekend, she had gone so far as to purchase a small pocket knife. She had saved every spare Knut and Sickle that came her way, mostly as a tutor to Neville, some other Gryffindors, and even a few younger Hufflepuffs in order to buy the gorgeous knife. The void had become nearly impossible to ignore last year. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were studying for their O.W.L.s and ignored her even more so than usual.

She was studying the knife now. When closed, it looked extremely cheap, barely worth a Knut, just plain, unadorned silver-colored metal. But when she opened it to examine the blade again, she could not help but to admire the carefully and exquisitely engraved wolf's head. She had wanted it since the first time she had laid eyes on it.

At the final Hogsmeade weekend, Ginny had slipped away from her friends at Honeyduke's and snuck into the shop to make the purchase. When the clerk eyed her strangely, she had told him she was buying it for her brother's birthday, smiled sweetly, and ran like hell back to the castle as soon as she was far enough away from the shop to avoid arousing anymore suspicion.

Now, as she ran her fingers over the delicate engraving once again, she wondered if bleeding would fill the void her soul left. She was reminded again of the summer after her first year. Her time at St. Mungo's when the Healers lied to her, the silly little first year, trying to convince her that she had been sick forever, that she had only been having sickness induced nightmares, that everything would make sense when she got better. But after the chamber, Ginny was an innocent child no longer, and she knew better. She knew that no one would ever love her for herself, they would never understand. They could only ever know and love her reflection.

Ginny took a deep breath, pulling herself from her reverie, and tried to draw strength from within. As she did, her thumb slipped along the edge of the knife and a few drops of blood drew up on her skin. At this, Ginny did not flinch. She watched as the blood began to slide to the edge of her thumb. Droplets formed and fell to the floor. It was an interesting sensation.

After standing up for a moment, Ginny crossed the room to her dresser and removed a handkerchief from the top drawer. She then walked back towards the door, and, after a final inspection of her reflection, she turned around and sat with her back to the door. With the kerchief positioned to contain the evidence, Ginny began to fill the void with her lifeblood.