SWAN SONG; tom riddle

𝖛𝖎

dear tom,

i finally decided what i'm going to do to you for the remainder of your dreaded life, tom.

          i'll toy with you, darling.

i'm going take the enrapturing mind i fell in love with, the one-of-a-kind brain in that lovely head of yours, and i'm going to fucking destroy it.

just as ophelia was driven mad by the death of her father, i will somehow find a way to drive you mad from mine.

i joked with you once before that if i died by your hand, my soul wouldn't rest until it drove you to insanity.

if only you knew it was anything but a joke. much more than taunting pillow talk exchanged between lovers post-fornication — if you could even call us lovers.

before, i only wanted you. your hands, your lips, and everything in between. i still want those things, so badly it hurts. but those desires have been overshadowed by an image that snuck its way into my twisted brain.

would you like to know what i see every time i close my eyes?

it's you, of course, but not just that.

i see you, still beautiful as ever but haunted and broken beyond recognition. you could stand before your followers, before me, and no one would recognize the shriveled up, hollow shell of a boy who used to be great.

but that's not all. i also see your head banging against charred walls, painting the walls red in ways jackson pollock would kill to accomplish. i dream of the walls splattered with your blood as you tried to rid the image of my lifeless body.

now that i've undoubtedly planted the horridly cruel image in your mind, do you feel it yet? your mind slowly unraveling and your beautifully sinister brain being devoured by the same maggots that reside in my shallow grave?

a little request from the dead: if you're going to kill me, please do my corpse the common courtesy of digging a deeper grave. the animals have feasted upon the remains of my heart, though you didn't leave them much of my heart, did you? no, you stole the majority of it so it could hang on your mantle, a trophy that reminded you of your success in ruining the one creature on that miserable planet who loves you.

look what you have done to me, the one thing in life i prided myself upon was being kind. i suppose in death i'll be known for my merciless nature. maybe they'll fear me as i feared you.

maybe you'll fear me.

          i previously stated that i wanted your hands and your lips and everything a naive girl who sees a handsome boy wants. but don't misunderstand me, tom. there is finally, finally one thing i want more than all of those things.

your blood on my hands and your skull beneath my foot.

i hope you sleep well tom. dream of me as i dream of you.

yours,
florizel