I'm all out of faith, this is how I feel
I'm cold and I am shamed
Lying naked on the floor
Illusion never changed
Into something real
I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn
You're a little late
I'm already torn
-Torn by Natalie Imbruglia
It continued to amaze her how one moment, one decision, one mistake, could change her life forever. If she had been a fraction of a second earlier or later, if she had not turned down that one street on that one night at that one instant, none of it would have ever happened. The old phrase popped into her head. The wrong place at the wrong time. Yes, she had been at the wrong place at the wrong time and…and it had destroyed her. It had ruined her life.
But did that give them a right to do what they did to her? Of course it did. She made a conscious decision to turn down that street. She chose her path. She should have known better, should have seen it coming. She shouldn’t have gone out that night at all. But she did, and it was her fault, all of it. That’s what they said. They said it was her own fault.
Ginny finished doing the inventory check for the day. It was summertime in England and she was helping her brothers Fred and George everyday at Weasley Wizard Wheezes. In just the few weeks she had been here she had done wonders for the shop. Her brothers made incredible products and were great salesmen, but they were horrible at cleaning, restocking, or keeping up with the cash flow in and out of their store. It also helped that a lot more male customers visited the shop when they saw her behind the register. Her brothers had been torn between fighting off all the boys trying to flirt with her and using her natural attractiveness and flirtatious nature to make more sales. In the end, they opted for the latter, and had her stand outside the shop in a cute dress advertising their latest merchandise.
Ginny stood up from where she had been kneeling in front of a shelf counting Dung Bombs and rubbed her back with a yawn. Fred came out from the back room with a box full of goods in his arms. “What’s that?” she asked.
He set it on the table. “Custom order. For Jade on the other side of Diagon Alley. She’s working part time at the second hand robe shop.”
Ginny looked in the box. They were WonderWitch products, mostly love potions and Guaranteed Ten-Second Pimple Vanishers. Light stuff. She could carry it easily. “I can deliver it for you.”
Fred glanced out the window at the darkening sky. “I dunno, Gin. The sun’s gonna set soon. You shouldn’t be outside alone.”
Ginny glared at him. For once she wished her brothers would trust her. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be there and back in an hour, promise. I won’t even stop at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor.”
He sighed. For being half of the biggest trouble-making duo in Hogwarts, possibly the entire Wizarding World, he was incredibly overprotective. “Okay, but hurry back or Mum will have my head!”
She was already out the door, the box under her arm. Finally. As much as she loved her job, being stuck in that stuffy shop all day when she could be outside enjoying Diagon Alley and looking in shop windows was torture. Her brothers gave her a fifth of their earnings and she had been collecting it for weeks now. She now had five Galleons, ten Sickles, and three Knuts. It was enough to get some robes at the second hand shop or, she gazed longingly in at Madam Malkin’s, a new dress robe.
Ginny glanced to the left. There was the entrance to Knockturn Alley. She could take a shortcut. It would save her half an hour’s walk and besides, the street looked practically empty. Ginny peeked both ways to see if anyone was around before turning down the Alley. Nobody would bother her, and if they did, she patted the wand at her side, she had a nasty Bat Bogey Hex at the ready.
The wrong place at the wrong time. That was where she was when she turned into Knockturn Alley and decided her fate. She was walking past a tavern when a group of men stumbled out of it. Ginny strode quickly past them, not looking up at their faces. She was just a few more blocks. Were they following behind her? She sped up and so did their footsteps.
“Hey! Weasley!” Ginny stopped at the sound of her name. Should she turn around? Say hello? She didn’t recognize the voice and she wouldn’t be friends with anybody that would call her Weasley, much less hang out at taverns in Knockturn Alley. The redhead resumed her pace. “Weasley! I’m talking to you!” The voice was slurred. She began trotting, then running. That set off the chase.
They tailed her for blocks. She began to feel panic set in. She turned corners randomly in the hopes of losing them until she herself was completely lost. Still, Ginny couldn’t seem to shake them. The men gained on her as she rounded another bend, hoping this one would lead to an exit or at least to someone who would save her.
She stopped, dropping her box and panting for breath. Before her was a wall—a dead end. Behind her the men had caught up, blocking the entrance to the alley. She was trapped. Ginny turned slowly, pulling out her wand.
“Well, well, look what we have here. A little Weasel caught all alone. What should we do with her, boys?” Death Eaters. Four of them. They wore the robes and masks hiding their faces. One of them stepped closer, the one that had spoken, and she backed up, wand raised. “Yes, what should we do with you?”
“Don’t touch me! I will hex you into oblivion! I will yell!” Her voice was shaky and loud. He seemed to consider her threats before he lifted his own wand. But instead of pointing it at her, he pointed it to the entrance of the alley and said a spell she recognized but couldn’t place.
“Nobody will hear you shout now.” He grinned. “That muffling spell will cover this entire alley. And besides,” the man stepped closer, grabbing for her, “I like it when they scream.”
Fred glanced up at the clock. Ginny had been gone for three hours now—it was almost eleven. “George? Have you seen Gin?”
His twin brother poked his head out from where he had been rummaging in the fridge. “No. Not since she left.” He too glanced at the clock and whistled. “Mum’s gonna have a cow.”
“I’m not worried about Mum.” Fred stood with a glare at his brother and moved to the fireplace, throwing in some floo. He poked his head in, calling out the name of the second hand robe shop. The place was dark and empty. The customers and employees had long ago gone home. If Ginny had been there, she wasn’t now.
Fred pulled his head out of the fire. George stood above him, a worried look on his face. “Floo Mum. I’m going out to look for her.”
One moment. One mistake.
He took her wand from her before she could hex them. The man broke it into two pieces and then threw it to the ground before shoving her against the wall. She struggled with him while the others looked on in anticipation. Ginny fought the way her brothers had taught her, punching at him with her little fists, but he was much stronger. Even after she poked him in the eye, making it bloodshot and red, he still laughed.
He laughed as he threw her to the ground and ripped off her clothes. Laughed as his friends beat and cursed her. Laughed as he violated her body with his hands. He laughed. He unzipped his pants, exposing himself, and in a last desperate move she kicked him in the groin.
He stopped laughing. The Death Eater was angry now as he shoved her head into the ground. Her vision went blurry and she felt something sticky and hot at the back of her skull. Blood dripped into her eyes. She couldn’t fight back anymore; she could barely keep conscious, as he forced himself into her. “Whoah, boys! Lucky score! This one’s a virgin!”
They took turns raping her. They violated her body, putting their filthy hands on her. They put their phalluses in her mouth as she struggled against them. They enjoyed it, making her scream. Making her cry out for mercy. Making her beg for them to stop.
But they didn’t stop, and it was horrible. Two of them were big, burly men, leaning more to the fat side. They practically crushed her with their obese, sweaty bodies. The other one, the one with the dark brown skin and deep voice, he enjoyed beating her senseless. He seemed to find pleasure in it. But the leader. He was the worst. He whispered things in her ear. Disgusting things. He told her about how he had watched her at school. She always wore those short skirts and flirted with a bunch of guys. She dated five of them in three years. He told her she deserved what she got, acting like a whore all the time.
Ginny believed him. He was right after all. If she hadn’t acted that way, hadn’t led them on…she didn’t even know who they were. They kept masks over their faces the entire time. But his eyes, she remembered those. He had icy blue eyes that stared at her with lust and hate. She could never forget those eyes.
The hours slowly crept by as they had their fun with her body. She thought it would never end, this hell. This torture. Was it her punishment for something? What had she done to deserve this? But finally, finally, it did end. One of the fat ones, he glanced up at the sky. “Boss. The sun’s starting to rise. We better get out of here before the beggars wake up.”
The leader ignored him. He continued thrusting into Ginny, moaning and panting. When he was finished, he stood up, smiling at her. “What should we do with her?” This was the skinny one with the dark skin and deep voice. He was the one that enjoyed beating her and then licking her blood off of her skin.
The ringleader contemplated. “Let’s waste her. Wouldn’t want her to live. That would just be cruel.” She didn’t miss the mocking tone of his voice. “Stand her up.”
One of the fat ones grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. Ginny was too weak to stand on her own, so he held her up by her hair as the boss twirled his wand between his fingers. “How should we kill you? Should we make it quick…or let you suffer slowly?”
Hadn’t she already suffered enough? Hadn’t they put her through enough pain? Obviously not. He smirked and lifted his wand. “Sectumsempra!”
The curse hit her full in the chest. The spell slashed into her repeatedly, covering her body in deep gashes. They stung from the dirt and semen that got into them. The one holding her lifted her up in his arms and tossed her like a sack of potatoes, letting her land in a heap of garbage bags.
And then they were gone, as if nothing had ever happened. As if they hadn’t just stolen her virginity and her life. They Apparated away without a second glance. They left her to die.
She wished she had died.
Harold ambled slowly along the cobblestone path, pushing his shopping cart. It was full of strange odds and ends he had picked up off of the streets and from garbage cans. A teddy bear with one eye falling out, a broken umbrella, a weathered, worn Bible, a chipped china glass. Right now he was looking for food. The hungry beggar pulled his jacket tighter as the rain started and pushed his cart down a deserted alley.
He stopped. There was a lone shoe, one of those ones teenage girls wore. What did they call them? Jane somethings? Either way, it was too small for his feet and without a match it wouldn’t sell. He kept strolling until he ran across a skirt. The old man stopped, bending down to pick the thing up. It was a fairly nice thing, nothing fancy, but still worth a good bit of money.
He looked around the alley, sensing something was off. A broken wand lay in a corner. There was something dark and red on the ground. He dropped the skirt with a gasp.
An arm, a small hand attached, stuck out of the garbage heap. Harold hobbled over to it on shaky legs. He pulled off a trash bag, staring in horror. The girl’s face, she couldn’t be any older than a teenager, was covered in blood. The old man couldn’t bring his eyes down to look at her body, but he could guess she was naked from all of the clothes strewn about. She was also covered in a bunch of cuts and bruises.
He crossed himself and backed up. Harold wanted nothing to do with this, nope. This kind of thing would get an old beggar like him in trouble…but still, should he tell an auror where the body was? Wouldn’t they ask questions then? He would be fined for digging through the garbage to say the least. And if they thought he was involved…?
He heard a soft moan. The beggar glanced down at the girl’s face. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly and she made the painful noise again, wrenching at his heart. “My God,” he whispered, “you’re still alive.”
Molly Weasley sat at her sons’ table worriedly, her hands folded in her lap. Fred or George, she wasn’t sure which, tried to offer her some food but she felt too sick to eat. She had already tried praying, for an hour she had sat there and prayed, something she rarely did, but still she got no answers.
Her daughter was missing. Her precious baby girl. Arthur, Fred, George, and Ron—all had been out in the streets searching for her little girl. They had turned up nothing. They had filed a missing person’s report with the aurors but had yet to hear back. They had even flooed all of their friends in the vain hopes that Ginny would have run away for whatever reason.
Nothing. Everything they tried led to dead ends. She had never felt so helpless in her entire life. Molly bent her head and began to pray again.
There was a knock at the door. They all scrambled to their feet and raced for it at once. Arthur reached it first, yanking it open so the handle came off in his hands. “Hey!” Fred complained. “You better pay for that.” Her husband’s sharp glance at their son made him quickly shut his mouth.
At the door stood one of the Ministry officers that patrolled the streets keeping order. Molly remembered speaking to the young man earlier when he questioned her as to where her daughter may be. He had a grave look on his youthful, inexperienced face. “Miss Weasley, Mister Weasley, you need to come with me to St. Mungo’s immediately.”
“Did you find her?”
“Was she hurt?”
Molly pushed past her three sons and husband and grabbed the boy’s collar. “Where is my daughter?!”
His face looked shocked at her tight grip. “At St. Mungo’s, ma’am. A beggar found her and brought her there. He…she…she’s been…”
“What?! She’s been what?! Spit it out!”
He gulped. “Raped, ma’am.”
Ron felt numb as he stood in the hospital, staring at his little sister’s lifeless body. They hadn’t been allowed to see her for hours while the mediwitches and wizards tried to save her from death. They said after her attackers raped and beat her they cast Sectumsempra on her and left her in the trash to die.
The doctors had healed all they could, however they couldn’t get rid of the deep gashes the spell had left behind. They said that because the wounds hadn’t been treated immediately with dittany, they would leave horrible scars.
Ron thought of his father’s reaction. The anguish in his voice as he yelled at the doctors. “You mean she’s going to have a constant reminder of what…of what those men did to her?!”
“Yes, sir, we’re sorry. There is nothing more we can do.”
Ron rubbed his forehead tiredly. His little sister slept on; she had been unconscious for hours. The doctors believed she would wake up soon. Ron remembered what the doctors said when he and his family rushed in to St. Mungo’s looking for her. A mediwitch approached them stiffly, holding a bunch of papers under her arm.
“Mister and Misses Weasley, please, come with me. You’ll have to sign these forms granting your permission to do a routine rape procedure on your daughter.” She handed them the forms as they paced down the hallway, towards Ginny’s room he assumed.
“A what?” Molly Weasley looked confused.
The nurse was patient. “When a rape victim comes into our hospital, we do a procedure, with their permission, to gather evidence of the rape for a trial. We also prevent the victim from getting diseases or becoming pregnant. However, because your daughter is underage and unconscious, you have to sign these forms granting permission to do so. You can, of course, refuse, but we highly recommend it.”
“What do these procedures include?” His father asked warily.
“We do a test of any spells that were cast on her or that she cast in the past 24 hours. Also, we take photographs for evidence.”
“Photographs?” Arthur looked appalled.
“If there is a trial there has to be evidence of what was done to her. It is standard-”
Arthur stuck his face in the mediwitch’s, their noses touching. “You mean other people are going to see what happened to her?! Do you have any idea…the humiliation…” He seemed unable to speak in his anger.
“That is what I mean, sir.”
They stared at each other for a long time, Arthur’s face filled with ill-contained rage, the nurse’s cold and blank. Like she was used to this reaction.
“Do it.” He finally relented.
The nurse nodded and headed off to tell the doctors trying to save Ginny, or so Ron guessed.
And now here he stood, staring at his sister’s sleeping face. It didn’t look right. Usually she was so alive, so vibrant and happy. To see her lying on this hospital bed, her face pale and what he could see of her body covered in wounds…it was just…wrong.
But he knew somehow it would be even worse once she woke up.