GOD KILLERS. Tom Riddle

08. Mutilation

CHAPTER EIGHT
MUTILATION

BLADES FEEL BEST WHEN THERE IS A BURNING FEELING AT THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH. It's what Augustine thought anyway as he held the blade firmly in between his long fingers. Scars lay white against his pale skin, from times of practicing, times of cutting into animals.

The burning feeling, Augustine thought would have died down by now, into a simmer of sorts. However he was wrong, it burned and bubbled until it turned to acidic bile in his throat. Suffocating until all he could think of was him.

He felt it rise through him as he sat in the common room, engulfed by darkness as the rest of the Knights slept soundly upstairs.

He was waiting for Tom and Holly to arrive from their prefect shift. Then he would do it.

He would cut her to bits whilst Tom watched.

It hadn't taken long for this very idea to be set in his mind. After they had gone off together, leaving Augustine to eat dinner with the rest of the Knights, he thought, as he cut into his steak, how it would feel to have the blood running from her neck and down onto her white school shirt, just like how the steak's blood had done the same to his plate.

Tom had betrayed him, so this was perfect. It would remind Tom that only Augustine could have him, could know him completely, not Holly. Holly would never know who he truly is.

Tom would see what Augustine would do for him. He would kill whoever was necessary to show the other boy that.

And when finally, after another hour, the pair waltzed in, with Holly giggling girlishly at something Tom had just said, Augustine rose to his full height, causing Tom to stop in his tracks, and for Holly's smile to falter.

"Hello Augustine," Holly said first, breaking the silence that had rested over the trio.

He pressed the knife into his hand, shielding it from view, "hello Holly, had a good patrol? Find any wrongdoers?"

She laughed softly, though the smile that rested on her lips didn't reach her eyes,"unfortunately it was a quiet night,"

"I bet it was," Augustine replied, eyes trained on her throat, waiting for the moment he could slice it.

"Didn't you say you were tired?" Tom perked up turning to Holly, a light smile tugging at his lips. She stared at him confused so he continued, "you have your apparition test tomorrow, don't want to accidentally splice yourself, do we?"

She nodded and smiled, "I guess not," dusting her pristine clothes, "I'll see you in the morning,"

Holly kissed his cheek, before skipping off towards the stairs, not without giving Augustine an awkward glance.

Augustine frowned, well this wasn't going as planned. Now he couldn't even stab Holly.

Once she left, Toms smile dropped almost instantly.

"What's wrong with you?" He sneered out quietly as he made his way over to where Augustine stood.

"Ooh I don't know! Why did you lie about Olive?" Augustine questioned madly.

"What did you want me to do? Tell everyone I did it for you?" He asked raising a brow, stepping close to him, his tone condescending, "for a stupid boy? What would people think of me?"

Augustine shook, his hand clasped the knife firmly. "But you didn't do it for her, you did it for me,"

Tom shrugged nonchalantly, "you can believe that if you want,"

All it did was make Augustine angrier, so Tom continued, "but Holly will know, she'll know I did it for her,"

He took a step closer, his breath hot against Augustine's skin, "just for her," he was trying to spur Augustine on. He knew it, he could feel the idea forming, twisting his mind an ugly colour.

And then Augustine nodded, the anger suddenly dying down as a new idea entered his brain as he realised it. "okay," he said softly, taking in the way Tom's face looked in the dark, with only the fireplace illuminating his skin. He looked perfect.

Not for long.

"Okay?" Tom asked suspiciously, a dark eyebrow quirked upwards in confusion. He'd been expecting Augustine to do something. Anything.

He nodded, "yes, okay," then, his thought turned to the blade in his hand. Ready for his new plan.

Twisting it lightly, he pushed it forwards, sending it deep into Tom's side.

A gasp left Tom. Not loud enough for people to hear. Probably something Tom hadn't expected Augustine to do.

"Shh," Augustine whispered cooly, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Tom, who had been trying to pry Augustine's hand from his side, stuttered, surprised that Augustine would do such a thing.

Augustine forced him down onto the floor, his other hand pressing him down roughly. "Don't worry," he whispered, "it won't kill you, I missed your vital organs," it wasn't as if he was going to kill him. He just needed to teach him a little lesson, that was all.

He pulled the knife from Tom's side, inspecting his work; Tom sprawled out onto the floor, hands going for his side trying to stop the stream of red running down his skin, staining his school shirt.

Sighing, slotting the knife away for a moment, he ripped Tom's hands away from the wound, and pushed them into the carpet above the boy's head.

"Now," Augustine instructed, "I'm going to show you that you're mine, no one else's, alright?"

Tom, pale faced and slightly sweaty from the blood loss, nodded.

Taking the knife from his pocket, Augustine slit his shirt open, he was too lazy to unbutton it, and this way was so much more fun.

He looked at the wound, eyeing it with intent eyes before slicing upwards diagonally from the horizontal cut.

When he'd finished, he smiled, "there," it came out in a whisper, eyeing the new scar that would stay there until Tom died — a long ugly scar.

"Now, whenever you look at your body, or let's say, whenever you decide to try and find somebody else, you'll be reminded of who loves you most," he pressed his hand into the new cuts, watching as Tom winced and hissed loudly.

"I love you," he whispered his hand, which had still been keeping Toms hands captive, tightened before he leaned over him to kiss his forehead. "And no one will know you like I do,"

"remember that." He finished, lips still close to Tom.

"I-I will,"

an/ the way none of Augustine's plans r never carried out properly ... improvising king