Chapter 1 : Broken Doll
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Blood seeps through the teal, flowery dress that is covering the body of a pretty Indian girl, with long, straight get black hair. Her chocolate brown eyes closed as if she was sleeping. Her plush lips stained with the remainder of her cherry red lipstick and her sticky blood runs down her chin. Her lips are closed and her face looks peaceful except for a black bruise on her concealer plastered forehead. Her black hair is half tied in a bun, half hanging over her tan, bare shoulder. Her nails are jagged and bloody as if she had fought with someone and scratched them. Her feet are shoeless and dirty. Her skin is covered in goose pimples and if one was to touch her that would feel that she was cold as ice.
The girl lay outside under the stars on the cold sidewalk outside of a grimy pub in Knockturn Alley. The pub sign reads Dragon’s Breath Tavern. The blood from her chest or it might even be her back, puddles on the cement. Men walk out of the Tavern and look down at the girl, who must be at least twenty-four, so she is more a women, and walk on. They do not even try to see if she is alive they just go on their way drunk and non-caring. They do not need to get in trouble and they could care less about the women lying outside in the cold night.
Some man with a white beard and blood-shot eyes steps on the women’s dress at the bottom and rips in revealing more of her tan thigh. One young man about twenty-five bends down to look at the girl and acts as if he knew her. He even sheds a tear on her behalf, be he walks away from her after putting his brown leather coat over the Indian women’s slender body.
A stray, hungry cat slinks passed and starts to lick the women's face. A couple owls peck at her lifeless body. Still no one has come to take her away from these stop. She had been lying there for ten hours.
Finally, a man walks passed while reading the Daily Prophet and almost trips over her body. He drops the paper on the ground and bends down to take in the lady. He finds she would have been beautiful, had it not been for all the crusted blood, missing cheek, torn dress, and beak prints that are marked all over her body by teeny tiny pools of blood. The man picks the body up and walks with her out of Knockturn Alley and apparates to St. Mungos.
She is dead; no one knows what happened to her. No one know who did this to her. All they know is that she is Padma Patil and she is up in heaven never to walk this earth again and she will never get to go to where she was headed before whatever happened to her, transpired.
She is a beautiful doll, forever frozen in that state.
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