His Story {Tom Riddle}

Chapter 1

'Oy, Cleo! Get your arse over here!' 

I stop daydreaming about a topless Timothee Chalamet and look at Pam, my best friend. We're late for class... again. As if the world should stop turning if we missed PE. 

'For fuck's sake.' I mumble while Pam pulls my hand forwards and starts running to the field. 

I miss the days when Pam and I had all our classes in common. Now that year 12 has started, we're not preparing for the same A levels. She's doing maths, physics and French (insane, I know), and I'm studying English lit, Art and media studies. Nothing too fancy, no, not where we're from, but still broad enough so that I don't have to make a career choice right away. 

I'm not that stressed out about the future, I know somehow things will fall into places. I'm not super smart, nor completely dumb. I'll manage. 

Couldn't say the same for Chris Thompson. The prick is already picking teams for our mixed netball game. I know he's going to put Pam and I in different teams on purpose. The guy hasn't stopped bothering me since year 9. At first, I thought he had a crush on me but I soon put that idea aside when I started talking to him a bit more. He's a complete idiot, there is no other explanation for it. 

'So we'll make sure the two lesbos are not on the same team. We don't want their snogging to disrupt the game, right?' Chris starts mocking us with his group of friends. 

The other boys snicker, I'm sure every single one of them is picturing Pam and I making out right now. They look so stupid, standing in their little lad group, ready to get sunburnt from the few rays of sun peering through the clouds. 

'Why, are you jealous?' Pam asks. 

'Yeah baby, the though of you keeps me at night.' he replies, imitating oral sex with his fingers and his mouth. 

I cringe, that's too much. But I never was the confrontational type, maybe that's why Chris keeps bothering me. I just pray for this game to be over soon, and join the other team for the game with a sigh. 

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Focused on my English lit work, I don't hear my mum coming home and her voice makes me jump. 

'How was your day?' 

'Fine, nothing special really.' 

'Did you get any results back?' she asks 

I tense up, I know what she wants to hear. I am trying to get into a newspaper summer programme and I desperately need good marks for that. But it's October and school has practically just started! 

'Not yet, I've only had two tests yet anyway.' I reply, softly. 

'Okay, just let me know darling. I'll let you work.' she closes the door behind me. 

I'm an only child. Which can be great, don't get me wrong, I get to be spoiled by both my parents and I'm their little princess. But it also means all the pressure and tension falls back on me and me alone. I can't rest, can't breathe. My parents' have great expectations for me. And I'm so scared to disappoint them. Well, half of the pressure I feel comes from me, I know that. Dr Philips knows that too. That's why I take my meds every day, to calm myself down and be able to relax from the bad thoughts invading my mind. 

I finish up my work and strip down to get into the shower. I stare at the mirror in the bathroom. I look tired, as always. Numerous insomnia nights have left their imprint on my face. Dark traces circle my green eyes. My brown hair looks duller than usual, and when I try to smile it feels fake. I don't even try to analyse my body because I know I won't be happy with how it seems to me anyway. Without any makeup or proper clothes, I actually look as sick as I feel. 

It's been a couple of months now, started right before summer last year. It was just a sort of general dissatisfaction and weariness at first. And now the routine and same old faces and places have gotten to me. I don't enjoy the things I used to anymore. I stopped listening to music, don't read for pleasure, but because I have to. And I forget the films I watch as soon as I watch another one. Pam knows, but even when she tries her best she can't really get to me. It's like I'm living life on autopilot mode. 

So much for being mummy and daddy's little smart girl. Now I'm just a fucking 16 years-old mess on antidepressants.