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Word Count - 423
Captive
She didn't realise until it was too late.
She was trapped. A prisoner in her own mind.
She hadn't known what he was doing to her. She'd believed him to just be her friend, a friend that was hers alone. He'd made her trust him. He'd made her love him.
She could feel the movement of her body. She knew he was in control, her conscious was stuck in an impenetrable bubble, and while she fought against the walls, all she could feel was pain. She was a prisoner of her own making; of her naive trust of an object she should have thrown away.
She screamed. She cried. She begged.
Nothing worked, but Ginny could hear an echo of Tom's low laugh, taunting her as tears fell down her pale cheeks.
People were being hurt and it was all her fault. She'd been so scared after the first attack, when she didn't know where she'd been. It had taken a few more times for her to be able to wake up when he took possession of her, and Tom seemed to be enjoying every second of it.
She pleaded with him to stop what he was doing, to let her have control of her own mind again, to stop using her to hurt people.
She'd never wanted to hurt people.
…
He had her now, locked in her bubble. She banged against the walls, wincing when pain shot through her.
"Tom! Tom, please, Tom! Let me out!"
His voice echoed in her mind.
"Just a little while longer, Ginny. We're almost there. It's time for us to end this now."
…
She could feel her conscious flickering. She was so tired. If only she could close her eyes and give into the welcoming blackness that beckoned. Instinctively, she knew that if she did, if she gave in, that would be it for her. She would die, locked here in her conscious.
When faced with the fall out of what he'd made her do, because really, who would believe that she hadn't done it, it was almost a relief to know that she couldn't fight him for much longer.
It was almost a relief to know that he was too strong for her to win against.
And then blackness.
"Ginny. Ginny, wake up! Come on, Ginny, wake up, please!"
She blinked her eyes, the chamber alight in her vision, the odd hexagon shapes in the ceiling confusing her sore eyes. Blinking again, she found Harry looking down on her.
"Ginny, are you alright?"
Written for;
Auction - Hexagon