Me
Fanfiction.Net Past
My Livejournal

Obsession
Donnie Darko
---->Cellar Door
VNV Nation
---->VNV Lyrics

Friends
Verdi [Britt]
---->W.I...D.....E.......R
Crimson Obsession [Tif]
Super Deluxe Toast [Kim]

Other
Pitas.com

(ok, put your other stuff below here..like bio/other links.
carry over that little dotted line above this, between
every new category) Relative "But its all relative, even if you don’t understand. Well its all understood, especially when you don’t understand. Well it's all just because, even if we don’t understand. Let’s all just believe." -Jack Johnson It was dark for the longest time. Not that his former world wasn't, but this was a different kind of darkness. He floated inexorably trapped between one world and the next, in this dimensional form of purgatory. Nothing accompanied him, here- no light, no one, not even a molecule of air shared this world with him. He didn't mind sharing. On days when he could think clearly- when something unseen and unheard allowed him to grasp this world- he wondered how it was that he could be here. How it was that he couldn't breathe, but still live; couldn't function, but still think; couldn't feel, and yet felt everything that was lonely and wrong about this place. He didn't do much except for wondering nowadays, and even that ability wasn't granted to him often. Most of the time the world was hazy, like a dream that didn't seem to exist until he could wake up and think back to it. Most of the time he didn't wake up. Most of the time it was as if this place never existed. All his senses were stripped from him, and it seemed a justified punishment for past ocurrences. He didn't know if he was meant to be punished this way, or if anyone else knew what his punishment was. Maybe they would be glad to see him like this. If it could grant her a smile, then so be it. He was dead on the surface. Inside, his mind still raced and dreamt; his heart still beat and wrenched in an awful pain whenever he thought about the events that had sent him here; his eyes still saw the neverending darkness that wrapped itself around him, coiled around his body like a snake, hugged every corner and nook and then choked and ate away at him until he wished he really could die. It was dark, and cold, and lonely for the longest time. Until, one day, someone came along and freed him. -- Ginny thought of him every now and then. It felt like blasphemy the first time she did it, the first time she thought about him after the incident in the Chamber. She wasn't supposed to think leisurely about someone who had decieved her so easily. But time had passed, and the extent of his wrongdoings didn't seem so wrong. So she thought of him, not in the same way she though of him four years ago, but in the way one might think of an old aquantaince- a memory. She was thinking about him now as Snape asked some question likely relative to the lecture she wasn't listening to; the Gryffindor fifth year Prefect, Sebastian Seicraft, raised his hand for the fifth time since class started. Snape sighed wearily, ignoring the young Prefect's hand. "Does anyone know anything about Potions?" Sebastian waved his arm frantically in the air as thought it weren't completely obvious Snape was ignoring him. When no one else responded and Snape returned to his lecture, he lowered his arm in disappointment and sat attentively, waiting for the next question. Tom was a lot like Sebastian. He was a Prefect in his day, too, and knew a great deal more than anyone, even going as far to annoy some of his teachers with his overextensive knowlege. Tom, she remembered, never seemed to tire of learning everything there was about magic, and every time she'd asked for his help on a potion or a spell he would explain it far more extensively than her teachers ever would. The thought of Tom was brief. When Ginny bent her head to take notes it left her, as though it never even existed at all. -- "Who are you?" "...I don't remember." "Why have you come back?" "I wish I knew." "Are you still the way you were before?" "Who was I before?" "Do you remember anything?" "I remember darkness. Coldness. Lonliness. And whenever I tried to close my eyes, there was always you." "Do you remember who I am?" "No, I don't." "Do you recognize me at all?" "No, I don't." "Good. Very, very good. I think you are ready." -- It should have made her a recluse. It should have caused her to curl up into a ball and open up only when strong hands pried her open. It should have made her stronger, more aware, more unwilling. But it only made her desperate. Her experience with Tom made her want another "Tom" all the more. Not the type of Tom that had been with her in the chamber, nor the one possessing her, forcing her to do all those terrible things. The Tom in the beginning. The charming Tom. The Tom who had built up the trust, feigned kindness, filled her with that warm sense of having worth- having purpose. She hadn't found another "charming Tom", but she sure had found enough of the others. Her Tom that possessed her came in the form of a third year who had talked to her for a week straight and then ignored her everyday thereafter. Ginny was strong enough to cry and move on, but not strong enough to avoid making the same mistake twice. Next was another third year, a Slytherin. He kissed her and touched her for a night, and the next day he was already advancing on another girl. She didn't scream or throw things at him like she'd wanted to. She just smiled, nodded, and left him. No matter how many boyfriends she'd had, none of them were "her Tom". It took her until her fifth year to finally realize that the only one who could fill those shoes was Tom himself. She should have given up altogether. But the idea of having, for just a moment, what she had with Tom four years ago kept her trying. And one day, finally, she finally met a boy who fit the criteria. She finally met her Tom.