<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/7e/Ginny_07a.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Virginia 'Ginny' Mary Lou Whateley<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Whateley Family<br/><strong>Date:</strong>July 18th, 1874 (Two years before game start.)<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Late Evening, One hour later<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Basement of the Sheriff's Office<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Closed, John Templeton<br/><hr/><br/>It was funny.  Ginny had never thought of herself as a very religious person.  Sure, she attended Mass every Sunday and even went to confessional once a month like a good girl but she wasn't all that willing to buy into the thought of a higher power.  In her experience, people tended to do what they wanted and would suffer the consequences of their actions.  No, church-going was a means to an end; after all, she had appearances to keep up with in town to some extent.  When her mother came visiting, Ginny didn't want to find herself in the unenviable position of needing to explain why she had been foregoing her devotionals.  That and it was fun to dress up on occasion and parade around for a few hours in the finest of silks while twirling a little parasol before going back to her comfortable cowboy duds, gambling, and drinking whiskey.<br/><br/>I mean, a girl needed something to confess, right?  Otherwise, she'd imagine it would get quite boring for the priest listening on the other side.<br/><br/>Yet her mind was whirling, recalling a familiar and loved passage of Scripture known by the devout everywhere.  As the knife came out and she feared for her virtue and perhaps her life, Ginny recalled the first line.  It was something her mother read to her before she went to bed at night while she was still living in Georgia.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><em>The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want...</em></span></span><br/><br/>She felt the cold steel against her chest, her skin prickling, as it tore apart her chemise like it wasn't even there.  Exposing her fully before the beast before her.  And Ginny resisted the urge to scream again as she bit her bottom lip.  After all, who would hear?  Townsend was right; no one was going to be coming to her rescue.  She was down in a dark pit, far away from the protection her name afforded her.  Chances were she was about to be raped and if she were lucky, that was the worst thing that would happen to her.  Yet while she understood that, the verses came racing through her mind like a babbling waterfall.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><em>He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters...</em></span></span><br/><br/>And as John Templeton stabbed down, Ginny froze in fear.  Certain that he was intending to cut her.  But no, he was just making it so she couldn't close her legs against his unwelcome intrusions even as she felt her undergarments tear.  The punch to her exposed midriff was enough to double her over as she opened her mouth as a gasping cough escaped as her bile rose, but then the torn and wadded garments were shoved between her lips.  Letting her taste the dirt of the floor, her sweat, and her fear.<br/><br/><em><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake </span></span></em><br/><br/>As the belt was tightened around her face, cutting a bit into her jaw, the tears began to come.  At first, they were a tiny trickle, a small crack in that confident demeanor, as they filled her large green eyes.  Then, they began to trickle down in big, fat drops, staining her cheeks as she gave a muffled sob between the makeshift gag, turning her head to the side.  Trying to get away from Townsend as he began to grope at her exposed breasts.  As she felt him trace down her taut stomach.<br/><br/><em><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.</span></span></em><br/><br/>She could feel his callused hands tracing her soft, pampered skin.  Skin which was quite inexperienced when it came to the matters of the flesh.  Because for all her bravado and bluster, Ginny really didn't know much.  After all, she had been saving herself for marriage like any other woman would have done in this day and age.  She tried to clench her thighs, but couldn't, knowing that the cold steel was close as she freshly sobbed some more as her nose also began to run a bit.  Her head was beginning to freshly pound again as she felt nauseous, but she didn't dare get sick, realizing that it would not end well for her, gagged as she was.<br/><br/>Instead, she simply prepared herself for the worst.  Even as she uttered a wordless prayer to God, a god, any god, to come and save her from this hell that she found herself in.