Her father paid no attention to her tears, but turned his back, heading towards his closet, which stood positioned in the corner. Through her tears, Ginny watched, struggling to sit up. Slowly she spoke, still not knowing to stop. Did she ever know when to stop? "D-Daddy?" She said one last time, blinking rapidly to clear the tears, to clear the image, and to clear the pain. Maybe she would wake up and her parents would be pounding on her door, screaming and yelling. She and Evie would look at each other, before getting up, completely used to it. Because words could hurt. And they did, frequently. But fists, and violence? That was a first.
Again the man ignored her, as he carefully scanned the contents of his closet, before selecting an object and taking it out. Walking back over to his daughter, he started to idly fold it around his hand, a kind of sincere smile beginning to flicker on his lips. "Now this." He spoke quietly, kneeling down next to the crying girl. "Might hurt just a little." Ginny's eyes widened more, starting to shuffle quickly away from him, her hands moving urgently to try and propel herself away from him. And the object in his hand. A belt.
"Stay still, you little shit." The man snapped, flicking his wrist, causing the belt in his hand to fly out, hitting the girl squarely in the face. Crying out again, Ginny fell back to the ground, rolling onto her stomach and she cried freely. Growling slightly, the man flicked the belt again, hitting her between the shoulder blades. Ginny screamed, but wasn't allowed time to settle before another blow came, and another and another. Pain echoed around throughout her small body, blood starting to drip from the endless cuts that were being created on her back, her arms, her legs – anywhere that the belt could reach. Scream after tortured scream echoed throughout the little girls' mouth, her cries sticking in the ever-growing lump in her throat, as the blood dripped onto the carpet below, leaving marks that would surely stain forever. Blow after endless blow, hitting her writhing figure with more fury and strength each time. So much pain. Would it never stop?
The man let out a low growl, and threw the belt to the side, curling his hand, before allowing it to drop, connecting with her face with a fierce passion. Smack. Again and again. Smack. The crack of Ginny's nose breaking. Smack. The sound of teeth cracking beneath the blow. Smack. The cry that echoed out as the child choked on the blood filling up her mouth. Smack, smack, smack.
Finally, after what seemed hours, years, decades, the man stopped, sinking back on his heels to look at his handiwork. The broken, bruised, bleeding girl lay; curled into a ball, sobbing, even her tears causing pain to wrack through her entire being.
Her father stood up, giving his daughter a swift kick to her ribs before walking out of the room without a glance backwards. Moments passed where Ginny simply lay there, sure she was dying. Had to be dying. Wanted to be dying. Soon she felt a figure by her side, small hands going to Ginny's forehead, trying to figure out what to do, trying not to touch any of Ginny's cuts. Evie. "Ginny." Evie whispered desperately. "Ginny, what can I do?" Both the twins where crying now, though for faintly different reasons. "Ginny." Evie murmured again, sobbing softly, "Ginny, what happened?"
Ginny's body shuddered, as a ripple of pain shot through her, and more tears ran down her face, mingling with blood. She didn't respond, at first, trying to see if she had the strength, if she could even manage to respond. Finally the words came, the little girl whispering with all her strength.
"Daddy had a bad day."