OF SERPENT AND ANGEL ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎➝ tom riddle ¹ | ✓ |

FIFTY

Eternal darkness. That is all Eliza had known for weeks, maybe months. When Tom had revealed that he knew about her exploration of his quarters, she had expected him to explode with anger, to hurt her worse than he had ever before. But instead, he left her alone in the dark, freezing cold room, though not before he had snapped her wand in two right in front of her eyes. Before he had always come to check up on her, to comfort her or to taunt her further. But not this time. This time he just left her there.

The hallucinations had peaked and she had no way of knowing whether they were due to the mandrake roots or just the isolation. But at some point, the ghosts or demons or figments of her imagination of all the people she had killed had eventually stopped visiting her. Or maybe they were there the whole time. But she could not see, she could not hear. She didn't know.

She didn't know when she had slept last. The absence of light had thrown her into a deep sea of fear and isolation, and though she tried, she could not drown in it.

"Will you let me out? Please?" she asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper but it sounded like someone was screaming to her ears. "Please, will you let me out?"

Tom crouched down in front of her, wiping her hair matted with dirt from her face. "Yes," he answered. "Though you are about to enter a very different kind of consuming darkness."

Eliza did not know what he meant, she did not care either. She had no will nor energy to think about his words. She fell to the floor, unable to keep even her upper body up. "Thank you," she whispered quietly, crying tears of pure relief.

Because her body was barely alive at all, Eliza could not move it. Therefore, Tom picked her up, scooping her into his arms like she was light as a feather, and carried her toward the open door. Eliza rested her head against his chest. Even he felt warm in comparison to the concrete of the room.

"You should close your eyes," he said quietly. "The light may hurt them."

She did as she was told without question. Though it was night-time and only a few candles lit the corridors and rooms, it felt brighter than the sun itself to her. After giving her water to drink, Tom bathed her, washed her hair, and dressed her in a clean set of robes. When he was done, she looked brand new, aside from the void in her eyes.

Then he carried her down the stairs and to the dining room, where he seated her down at the empty table.

"I am afraid it's time for you to sleep, Eliza," he told her. "You see, it is time for me to truly begin my revolution, time for me to focus on creating the new world which I have envisioned for years. I, simply put, no longer have time for games and playdates anymore."

He was going to kill her. He would finally let her die, let her sleep forever. Eliza had never in her life felt more thankful.

Tom took the seat beside her, reaching out to cup both sides of his face with her hands almost like a lover. "Make no mistake, Eliza, I will always find you. You will never be safe. You will never be free. There is nowhere for you to run, nowhere for you to hide from here I could not find you. If you go to Hell, I will come there just to find you." She had no more tears that she could cry, but she would have cried them if she did. "You understand this, yes?"