Oh, Ophelia | Tom Riddle

Misery

"I could put you out of your misery," said Tom coldly, looking over at the shaking Spencer-Moon heir in the foyer of the Riddle Manor,

"Wh-What?" Asked Carl, coughing and feeling the metallic tang of blood on his tongue,

"End this all for you," said Tom, turning and twirling his wand between his fingers, "Make sure you never think about her golden eyes ever again, take away your pain. Merciful really,"

"You want to kill me?" Asked Carl, trying to stand up and reaching for his wand but Tom summoned the stick and snapped it magically before dropping it on the floor once more,

"I wouldn't say kill, I would say... Grant the sweet release of death," said Tom, "Of course your current behaviour with your family means they won't know your dead for months maybe even years, so I'm not so worried."

"I don't want to die," said Carl,

"Don't you?" Asked Tom, licking the man onto his back and standing over him, "Knowing you will never be able to trust again? Never be able to love. Never understood. You met someone who understood you, someone who believed in you, someone who loved you didn't you? Well you thought you did."

Carl groaned inside the floor, his vision beginning to blur as memories flooded his mind. Seeing the pretty blonde in his favourite diner for the first time. When she noticed his script and read lines with him. When she ran into him at the movie theatre, their first date, first kiss, other firsts. The morning glow on her skin, the way she called him English,

It all came back.

The betrayal when she left him. Tom was right. No one ever would understand him, or love him, because the one person who had, well that was all a lie wasn't it?

There was no Poppy Amara.

No happily ever after.

Carl used the last of his strength to look Tom Riddle in the eye,

"Do it." Said Carl, and Tom grinned,

"This wasn't my original plan, you know?" He asked, "I was going to force you to watch her wed another, but Lord Voldemort is a merciful master,"

"What?" Croaked Carl, his vision blurring and he tried to stop the memories from coming,

"English? English, wake up. It's your Birthday isn't it?"

"My love," he said, pulling her back into bed with him, she laughed, and placed her head on his chest, "Come back to bed,"

"But the breakfast I made you is in the kitchen, and there are a great many things I am willing to do in bed, but eat food isn't one of them," said Poppy, and he laughed,

"Fine. If you insist," he said, as she got up and pulled him out of bed,

"I do,"

She had been conditioning him from the get go to want to marry her, to want a life with her, the pain only grew in his heart,

"I want to hear you say it," said Tom, his hands clasped behind his back, his head cocked to the side,

"What?"

"I want to hear you thank me. I want to hear you thank lord Voldemort," said Tom,

"English, don't go." Came her voice and he saw her at the end of the room, she wasn't really there he knew Poppy was just a figment of his imagination,

But there she was in her waitress uniform,

"I need you to stay away," he groaned,