Not About Angels (A Tom Riddle Story)

Chapter 12

Love me like I loved you, save me like I would have saved you......

...................................

"Lie down." Thomas Lind whispered, his mouth stretched into an  eerily excited smile.  

Abigail glanced at Riddle, who averted her gaze.

"Okay." She said, lying down on the white sheet. 

" This is just going to sting a bit, sweetheart." Thomas Lind told her, holding up a needle.

Abigail shirked at the sight of it. She jumped off the bed, and cowered into a corner.

" C'mon, be a good girl now." Thomas Lind said, approaching her slowly. 

" No." Abigail cried, shaking her head, tears pooling her in large eyes.

"I'm going to be very angry, if you don't be a good  girl now." Thomas Lind smiled.

He grabbed her arm, as she cried, he stuck the needle into the delicate flesh of her arm. Blood gushed out, a harsh red line drawn mercilessly across her pink skin. 

She cried, tears rolling down her pale cheeks.  

"Tom. Tom, help me." She said, her voice faint.

Riddle couldn't look in her direction. There was a girl who was so innocent, so pure. There was a girl who suffered because of him. For him. Perhaps it was that moment that marked itself in his mind, that she was something. Something worth fighting for. Her pleading eyes, her tears, her bruises. Somehow, that all creeped through the cracks in Tom Riddle's cold walls, and somehow seep through to his heart. 

You coward. You fucking coward. He told himself.  

He turned around. 

" Stop." He said. 

Thomas Lind looked up, rising an eyebrow. 

" What was that, Tom?" he asked.

" Stop." He said again, the menace in his eyes piercing Thomas Lind's skin. 

" Don't be ridiculous, Tom." Thomas Lind warned, though deep down he was a little afraid of this strange boy. 

"I'll do it." Tom Riddle said, offering Thomas Lind his arm. 

"Tom, no...." Abigail cried. "Please." 

Thomas Lind patted his arm. 

" Sit, boy." 

.................................................. 

Abigail waited outside, her arm still bleeding. She could hear it. His pain, his screams. She sobbed, wishing she could do something.  

Bur part of her felt warm. Warm, that he would do this for her. It pushed her a bit more over the edge. She didn't understand love, but all she knew was that for him, she would do anything. 

The door opened, and out came a broken boy. 

His face was pale, bruised, still.  

He took her hand, and together, they walked away from that monstrous place. 

"Let me see your arm." he said, his voice cold, but weak. 

"Tom, are you-"

"Let me see your arm, Abigail." his tone was firm. 

She held out her arm. Dried blood etched into her skin, fresh blood still oozing from the wound. 

"It needs to be washed." he told her. He filled up a bucket of water, and with a towel , washed the blood off her arm. He was gentle, yet effective. 

She still flinched at the pain, but his eyes told her to stay quiet. 

"why did he want us?" She asked. 

Tom Riddle raised his dark head. 

" Because we're different. Abby. we're not like the others." 

"How?"  

" We....we have special talents. We can do things. Bad things to people, and he wants to know how. He wants to use it. But don't worry, Abby. I won't let him bother you again." 

She looked up at him, the way she always did. 

" Promise me you'll always be here." She said. 

" Of course not, Abby. This place is awful. I'm going to leave." he paused, smiled as he saw the scared expression on her small face. " And I'm going to take you with me."