Ginny Weasley: His Favourite Play Toy
The tiniest of smiles spread truly over her face as a calloused finger grazed tenderly along her wound ridden arm. Each of her many cuts and scars told a story of her hurt, betrayal and of the secrets and lies she'd masqueraded behind for the last few years. She let her mind wander to a time when she felt so carefree, so alive and so innocent; she was innocent. She'd been only eleven years old; an age where one is still so young and pure. It wasn't very long after that that everything had been turned upside down and her world was changed...
She couldn't waste time thinking of that. She wouldn't think of that. That was probably the main reason why she was doing this now. Why she was lingering on the brink of death. If only he hadn't ruined everything that day when he had first touched her then maybe things would be fine. Just maybe. A sardonic laugh rose from the pit of her stomach. Of course it wouldn't be fine! She taunted herself. You'd still be you; an ugly little welt of a girl who had no hope in the battle of prettiness. She clenched her fist tightly inwards and sighed pitifully. It doesn't matter now, she thought miserably, soon nothing will matter again.
She unclenched her fists and pressed her palms firmly against the cold concrete floor of the astronomy tower, willing herself to get on with what she had planned. Her hand brushed against something sharp. Her fingers fumbled around, carelessly clasping what she now realised was a shard of a broken mirror. She peered intently into her reflection. She could see only her eye. The eye which had once been filled with untainted ambition and unlived life, now had a pained look dwelling inside of it. She could see so clearly how living in an adult's world opposed to a little girl's fairytale had changed her so much. She found herself wondering if others had seen it or if they were still pretending to be so blissfully unaware. She could see all their hurt. All their torture and misery which lingered just below the surface of their skin, so why couldn't they see hers?
She held tightly to the shard and dragged it roughly along her left wrist; cutting deep into the already marred skin. She'd do it this way too; just in case. When she felt a steady flow of blood oozing around her fingers she swapped hands so that she could imitate what she had done to her other wrist too. It wasn't long before she felt the familiar feeling of warm blood trickling down her palms on both hands. She smiled once again to herself and staggered over to the window ledge of the tower building. She was already feeling quite fuzzy minded as she raised herself to a standing form on the edge of the tower. 'This is it' she mumbled to the bitter bite of the morning air before she stepped gracefully off the tower edge and fell into oblivion with nothing but the trickles of blood following her fall.
She felt a blunt pain to her body. Then nothing. No more memories of hands running over her young body or of pain which was so deep that it was indescribable to her. She could feel nothing now, and for that she would have been grateful. As she was falling she could have sworn she heard a distant screech yet it didn't matter now, this was the end for her.
He stumbled into the tallest tower room a moment too late. As he raced over to the window, screaming hysterically, she had thudded to the ground. The tears that were beginning to fall were not because he was sorrowful at having lost his only sister or for the pain he knew his family would endure when they heard. No, the tears that fell were for himself as his favourite play toy had just tumbled to the ground; broken.
