God does not shine upon you. He could still remember the children that cuddled together in a useless attempt to keep themselves warm, dead the next day. You didn't even know who was dead, they all looked like corpses when they slept. Their chests barely heaving and their malnourished bodys mangled together. He remembered the dark basement where the feeling of watching eyes had never seemed to leave. Tom thought of the words Mrs. Cole had always told him in there. "God does not shine upon you, Tom Riddle." ... May all of them burn in hell...