destruction | t.m.r

chapter fifty one.

There was knocking on the door. Tom Riddle knew who it was even before the knocking came. He knew everybody and everything in his manor, but that couldn't be said by his followers.

With a swipe of a hand the door opened, it still took time for magic to work without the wand, but he is getting better at it. "My Lord." His most faithful servant bowed, deeply. "There are spys circling our quarters." Abraxas said to his Lord, trying not to break under his glare.

"You and others can deal with it, can you or can you not?" Toms cold voice that was nothing more then a whisper asked. That same voice brought terror to millions, to his followers, to everybody. "Of course My Lord, but we-" Abraxas was silenced as his Lord looked upon him again.

He bowed and left the room.

Tom knew how to strike terror and dispair into a person. He did it so effortlessly it came naturally. He sighed deeply and his finger went over a pale place over his finger where once the black ring stood.

The world ripped away, his vision blurred and the stone walls of his room turned into wood. He was not Voldemort, the name he goes now by, he was once again Tom Riddle, a boy trying to find meaning in life through killing.

Tom was standing in common room, the light so dark you couldn't see the thing in front of you, but he knew she was next to him.

He knew her blind.

He knew the sound of her breaths, of how her heart beated inside of her chest.

He would know her at the end of the world, in death.

"Myra." He spoke her name, it was like slik coming from his lips and in return the girl hummed.

He hater her, because of what she did to him. Myra. He hated her name, each single letter, he hated it. But how could he not when she made him feel things.

"I miss you." He told her everything, because this would maybe be the last time to do so. "Don't be silly Tom. You can't miss somebody you don't love." She laughed at him, he could picture her smile as he has seen it thousand, million of times.

He wanted to yell at her, because how can she say that, how can she hurt him in a way he hasn't been hurt before. By not believing. "Fear. I fear spiders Tom." Myra said out of nowhere, it took Tom couple seconds before responding, "spiders are scary, yes." He didn't fear them, it was the thought of them having something in common that made him say it.

"But you don't fear spiders Tom." He went to protest, but Myra stopped him.

"I know you don't, because I know everything about you. You kill people easily, with no regret, how can you fear spiders when you don't fear death when it's in front of you."

"That's not true, I think that you-"

"I don't care what you think. Even if you kill people like bugs, look down on them everyday day I know what makes you sick. A feeling that makes even the greatest villains weak. The hideous, disgusting thing that if it's discovered by somebody cunning can became a fatal flaw. It's love. And you Tom Riddle are terrified by it. That is the thing you fear."

He stopped breathing. Her face came in view, she was beautiful and he knew it from the moment he looked at her. Everybody saw it.

But not everybody saw the potential, the madness behind those eyes.

She was fearless, except for spiders and the fear of failure.

"I am not." He said and she straight out laughed at his face.

"Then say it, say that you love me." She breathed right into his face.
Her smell overpowered his, she became his air to breathe, his water to drink.

She. Was. Everywhere.

"You can not."

"I can't."

She put her hand on his cheek, wiping away a tear that slipped unnoticed by him. He was truly terrified by love.

The world once again started to ripple and there he was. Older, the name of who he once was ringing in his ears and utterly, alone. The room was cold, the wand was heavy in his pocket. The wand that killed thousands and will kill thousands more.

A breeze could be felt coming from the open window, the sky was starting to become gray, not by the sun leaving, but from the storm coming. A perfect time to get his feelings up, a perfect day for killing. Tom or better to say Voldemort stood up, his black clothes made his movements look elegant, nonexistent, he was floating through the room.

Flying the door of his room open he was meet with an empty hallway. The mumbling stopped downstairs, the silence that was no way comfortable was overpowering the manor.

While he escalated down the stairs he could picture her beside him. Having a smile on her face, shining around him, being a star to his darkness.

Tom Riddle wanted to bash his head against the stairway.

While the man had melancholy thoughts about the girl, she was down there where he left her off. In the Black lake, drowned, her only company was the giant squid, and even the hideous monster didn't like to go that deep into the water.

The girl was under the water for 12 years and Tom couldn't forget her, couldn't heal from her.

But think of it, what if all Tom needed in order to heal was the realisation that he became a different person because of her. Think what would happen only if he understood that sooner.