Well, here's the next chapter. I was hoping to have posted it a little bit sooner than what I did, but... Oh well. Please review at the end of the chapter. ^.^ Please. No one told me if they liked the first or third person better so I just wrote this in first person as well... If you liked the thrid person better please, oh please, oh please, tell me! Ok?

I do not own Harry Potter.

When I woke up I was in a room full of light. I quickly came to realize that I was in the Hospital Wing. Luckily, Tom was nowhere to be seen. My head hurt. Not as much as it did, but there was still the shadow of pain in the back of my skull. I sat up. Madame Pomfrey wasn't anywhere to be seen either.

If I was going to escape this… hell… right now would be the time to do it. Everyone was probably in class right now. I know that before the school had been taken over, Snape had gone back to teaching Potions and we didn't have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now that the school had been taken over it was most likely to become a Dark Arts class. The teacher would undoubtedly be Tom. Tom had wanted that position. I could remember him telling me that he wanted to teach when he wrote to me in the diary.

Now would be the opportune moment to leave. I stood up, shakily. I looked down and realized that I was in hospital attire. I found my regular clothes near the bed. They probably weren't expecting me to be awake for a while so they carelessly left my clothes there.

I changed into them. My wand wasn't there. Tom probably kept it just in case this did happen. I couldn't dwell on it for long. I had no clue as to how long I had before this class got out—if I was correct in assuming that classes had started. I had to get out of there.

I ran from the infirmary. I had almost made it outside. The bell rang. Apparently class was in session. I checked the door beside me. It was a broom closet. I stumbled in. There were lots of voices.

This was just my luck. Of course the moment that I was so close to freedom that I could almost taste it, the bell rang. What would I do if I was caught trying to flee the castle? Better yet, what would they do to me?

I shivered at the thought of having Tom torture me again. He knew how to torture me in ways that only I would know. He could manipulate my mind and destroy all happy thoughts. Just like a Dementor. He would use Unforgivables, which I almost preferred to him reminding me of my first year.

He made me wish for death.

I have to get out of here. If I don't, I'm going to die.

The bell rang again, telling everyone that they needed to go back to class. I almost let out a sigh of relief. One crisis averted, but they had probably noticed that I was gone by now.

I tried to open the door to the broom closet. It was locked. I closed my eyes tightly. Who in their right mind makes broom closets lock things in instead of out? Obviously someone that's not in their right mind. It was probably a prank. Or a way to scare people that ended up shagging in broom closets.

I suddenly felt unclean. Then I went back to wondering as to how I was going to get out of here. Obviously, I didn't have my wand. I couldn't try to get anyone's help because I could get someone's attention that I really wouldn't want. I could stay here until I died, but that wouldn't really get me out. I could try to break down the door.

I looked at the hinges. They were rusted and the one looked like it wasn't even attached anymore. Breaking down the door looked like it could work. Maybe. If I succeeded in knocking down the door, I would have to thank the years of Quidditch.

I backed up as far as I could and ran into the door. It hurt my shoulder, but it didn't give. I looked at the hinges again and the one that looked like it was in decent condition looked worse for wear now. I tried again. The door still didn't fall, but it looked close to it. I tried again.

The door fell down with a loud crash.

"Somebody probably heard that," I said to myself.

I didn't wait for someone to show up to see what had happened and ran out of the doors and into the welcoming arms of Tom Riddle.

"Hello, Ginevra. Taking a stroll are we?" he asked me, giving me a disapproving look.

"Of course." I responded in a monotone. I didn't dare speak his name. With him there, the name was just too… real.

He grabbed my wrist. "What did I tell you about lying to me?"

"Not to."

"Very good," his grip on my wrist tightened, it was painful enough to almost bring tears. "So, Ginny, what were you doing?"

"Don't call me Ginny. Only my friends can call me Ginny."

"If I remember correctly, I was your friend at one time, besides," his grip got tighter as he spoke, "I'll call you whatever I want, Ginny."

Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain, but I ignored him. I wouldn't acknowledge him while he used my childhood nickname.

"You are so immature, Ginevra. Trying to ignore me just because I call you Ginny?" He lessened his grip on my wrist. "How should I punish you this time, because obviously the chamber wasn't enough to get it through your head that I am in charge of what you, and everyone else here, does? What do you think, Ginny? I'm thinking public humiliation."

"What do you want from me?" I asked. I was already growing tired of his arrogance. What made him think that he was so much better than me? That he could control me? Was it because he could manipulate a naïve first year?

"You know what I want. What happened to the obedient little first year that would do whatever I told her to do without question?"

"She died the day you made her open that chamber." His grip on my wrist tightened again, even worse than before. Tears fell because of the pain. I was definitely going to have dark bruises from his hands.

"Do not. Disrespect me. Understand?"

I didn't respond. He released me and raised his wand. "Crucio."

Excruciating pain ripped its way through my body and I fell. It felt as if each cell was being torn apart. It felt as if flaming needles were being stuck into every nerve in my body. Then, it was over. Only a ghost from the pain lingered in my system.

After the spell was released, he grabbed my wrist again and dragged me back up to my feet. "Do you understand?"

"Y—es." My voice came out raspy. I could taste blood in my mouth from where I had bitten my lip to keep from screaming out in pain.

"At the rate that you're learning your place, you're going to have felt lots of pain before the year is up. Be in the Great Hall during dinner tonight. You'll show the rest of the students what happens to those that question me." He turned around. "Oh, and before I forget, ask Malfoy for your new time table at lunch. Then you should probably go to class." And with that, he left.

This year is going to be Hell. I wonder what he has in store for punishment.