𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐥 ~ 𝙏𝙤𝙢 𝙍𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚 ✔

ii. acid adoration

                                    [ chapter two : acid adoration ]

                                          { Crucio : "I torture" }

                      [ You crave the applause , yet hate the attention
                                    Then miss it, your act is a ruse ]

  T O M  W O U L D have preferred saying that it had been difficult in getting used to having Rowan around so much , but that would be simply untrue. As much as he would enjoy hoodwinking his senses into believing whatever converse theory his diabolical mind had concocted - a fragment of his conscience knew that in reality he could go almost as far as to say that he liked having her around , that her company was pleasurable and at the very least she made an intelligent companion. Although her ability to filter through his charm irritated him ( for he himself could never crack the enigma that was Rowan ) , he knew that he would miss her presence if she ever missed out on work or left the job. He had known it ever since that fateful day in December five months ago when Rowan did not show up for a week at a go. And although he hadn't really felt the need nor wanted to show her that he cared by owling her - Tom did feel a strange burst of curiousity , one that almost tempted him to write a letter enquiring if she was alright , irrespective of the fact that he did not even know where she lived.

"Down this alley , not very far from here", was all Rowan had told him when he had enquired about her address , as she had levitated the files containing sales and transactions of the previous year to their respective places on the shelf.

Putting away all his sentiments towards her , he focused on the fact that Rowan knew. She was well aware of the reasons that had drawn him towards this abandoned artifacts shop in the midst of the unfrequented Knockturn Alley. She knew of his chase after immortality , she had known at Hogwarts too , but somehow she could see he had had some success in this unholy endeavour. It was as though someone had picked him apart , clawed at the threads that constituted his being until there it was - the shred of the bitter truth hidden under the rocks. And it made him feel stark , stretched out like a painting of lies on a torn canvas , that his very foundation was venomous in intent and that he was nowhere near the flawless boy he claimed to be. Tom Riddle , was a beautiful monster.

And even then , some masochistic part of him felt - something , that someone he knew had atleast tried to unravel , had cared to look under and still say nothing of the horrors they had seen , continue to live life as it had been before - as if they hadn't just been exposed to the feral demons he possessed. Some sickening part of him was hopeful that Rowan cared enough to try to find his true self he had killed so long ago.