At Nights...

At nights I can still hear him.

As the wind blows and the tree next to my room scratches noisily against the small house, I can hear his deep voice going, "Ginny! Ginny! Don't you love me?" And then it will fade away, but I will not sleep for the rest of the night because I know he will come back. Come back and hurt me again.

Often now my face is wan and pale, my eyes puffy and red, purple bags decorating my eyes from lack of sleep, but no one bothers to ask what's wrong.

They never did ask what happened down there in the Chamber. No, it was just, "Harry, are you all right?" or "Harry, you are so brave! How does it feel?" or "Harry, you're looking tired, come down to the hospital wing with me and get some chocolate!"

They sent me to the hospital wing and laid me in a bed, gave me a potion and told me to go to sleep. I was never asked if I was okay, or if Tom had touched me. I wonder if they knew to ask or if they wanted to ignore it, pretend it never happened. They did cover it up, you know. Dumbledore wouldn't let the newspapers write anything about it, just hushed everything up and told me to keep my mouth shut and not tell anyone a goddamn thing.

So I have kept my mouth shut, kept it closed for years and years. I never told a soul about what happened down there. I can only shudder and imagine what their reactions would be.

Mum: "He did what? Are you sure, Ginny Weasley? Are you lying, young lady? You better not be..."

Dad: "Oh. But you're fine now, right?"

Ron: "He did what? That little ass, wait until I get my hands on him..."

Ron would probably be the only one who would care enough to do something about it. He didn't even know and he suggested I go to a therapist and talk it out.

Dumbledore frowned on that notion, saying that "that is not a good idea, Miss Weasley, for if the therapist were to tell...." Dumbledore didn't even know what had happened. I guess he never thought that such an awful thing could happen to an eleven year old, but anything can happen in your darkest hour...

Even if I hear the name Tom, I shudder. I convulse until someone asks me if I'm cold and then I pull my lips apart and say, "Yes, I'm fine, I think I'll go get some fresh air." Then I walk out of the room and run outside and throw up. I always throw up because he makes me sick, that awful creature who is now known as Lord Voldemort.

Or if someone says, "I remember my first year at Hogwarts. Such a lovely and grand old time it was..." I feel faint. I concentrate on a piece of furniture, and sometimes it explodes. I wish it were Tom's head exploding.

The most often thing that happens is that someone mentions Harry Potter.

Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful that he went down there or else I'd still be lying down in the Chamber of Secrets, cold and limp. A corpse.

But sometimes I hate him. I owe my life to him, I am forever indebted to him because he saved my life. Now if he is ever in trouble I have to risk my life to save him or else Ron will say, "Ginny, you ungrateful twerp! Harry was in danger, he saved your life you should have saved his..." or someone else who knew.

I don't think he really saved my life.

By the time he got down there with Lockhart and Ron, it was too late.

Tom had already killed my soul and now he was just waiting for the rest of my strength to flow into his ghoulish self.

When I think about what happened down there, I shake and shake and I vomit. Crystal tears roll down my face, the last remainder of my innocence, for when I was down there with Tom, he raped me.

I can still remember it.

"Ginny, come here," he ordered snapping to me.

"No! I won't!" I shouted hoping that maybe someone will hear me.

"Get over here, little girl!" He moved his hand and somehow I was being dragged over there, an invisible wall was pushing me, pushing me towards that monster...

He shoved me down on the ground hard, and suddenly he was pulling off my skirt and unbuttoning my top and yanking off my tights, my underwear. "I love you, Ginny," he whispered stroking my chest with cold hands. "And I want to show you that."

He undressed himself quickly and the next thing I knew he was on top of me, his mouth on mine, tongue searching for something...but what? His hands were stroking my body, and I...I didn't like this. "Get off of me!" I screamed, trying to shove him off.

He laughed like a lunatic. "You can't stop me! I will always win, Ginny..." And then....my innocence was gone.

"Stop! Stop!" I screamed.

He grinned. "Ginny! Ginny! Don't you love me?"

"No..."

"You bitch!" And then he was rough and he hurt me, and suddenly it was over.

He stood up. "Get yourself dressed," he commanded, and I did so, my clothing soiled from the remains of my virginity..

After I was dressed he put his head on my head and suddenly the world was a swirling, darkening blur...

That's all I can remember of my time down in the Chamber of Secrets except for when Harry showed up.

I am now in my seventh year of Hogwarts and still Tom Riddle haunts me. I knew him for one year, and yet he affects me in every sort of way...my days, my nights, my dreams, my life...and I hate him with the burning of a thousand suns. If I could kill him thousands of times I would not feel satisfied, I detest that awful being so much.

Mum said not to hate but to love but she does not know. When I tell her I hate Hogwarts and can't wait until I graduate from the horrible place that holds too many memories, she frowns and tells me to shut my mouth, that "that is a good school, Ginny Weasley, and you're lucky you can go there."

But am I lucky? Am I really lucky?

No, I am cursed to have had the opportunity to go to that school. I was cursed ever since I had grabbed the letter from the sleek Hogwarts owl and torn it open quickly, screaming, "Mum! Mum! I got in!"

Perhaps it was my destiny to go through such an ordeal, to have been through the pain and the suffering, knowing that if Tom Riddle has succeeded, Lord Voldemort would have returned on account of myself and my ignorance.

And now when the old oak tree sways in the wind and it s long, gnarled branches brush against the peeling house and I can hear Tom saying, "Ginny! Ginny! Don't you love me?" I silently whispered, "No, Tom. I never loved you. And I will never ever love you."

And you will never win.