Not Broken, Not Yet | Tom Riddle

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

It had been several months into her captivity. Into her torture. Those very first days had been ones of fear, but also, hope. Hope that her father would come back to her. That he would save her from the wretched place that had become her own personal hell. In her dreams she saw him on that very last day. Saw him turn his back on her as he walked away from the house. In every dream he stopped, stopped a few feet away from her, back still turned to her. She screamed for him. Begged him to turn around. To not leave her there. Begged and begged and begged.

But he never turned around.

And as the days passed, and then the weeks and then the months, the young girl came to realise that he never would. She was alone, left. Forgotten in this place of suffering. Accompanied only by the man and woman in white coats and the ever sounding scribbling of the woman's pen.

It had not even been more than a year, but she was already so tired, so drained. So... done. Her life was one of darkness and pain and for every day that passed she felt the darkness growing stronger. Pulling her away from the light that was the memory of her life before that hell. Memories of her mother, even of her father. A time when all she knew was love. A time when she was still able to smile.

The scars on her body spoke of pain beyond human imagination. It spoke of things no child, or adult, should ever have to experience. Scars, burns and bruises covering pale arms that had not seen sunlight in months. Oh what a sight she was. This girl of darkness. This girl of suffering.

It wasn't before him that she had found hope again in her dark little corner of this world. An equal.

"Don't be scared." Had been her first words to him, this fragile boy of only five. His blond hair was dirty with blood already, his brown eyes terrified.

"I want my mommy." He had whispered, looking up at the older girl, seeing an adult where there was only another child. He clung to the bed next to hers, body trembling as he looked around the dim room. Like her he was wearing white garments.

The young girl mustered a weak smile. "What's your name?" She asked, realising how hoarse her voice was she cleared her throat. "My name is Amberly." She said softly.

"Julius." He whispered, still looking around the room with wide eyes. "I want my mommy." He repeated.

"Do you like cats?" The girl tried, overlooking his pleads. She quickly walked over to one of the walls, legs shaking under her as she tried to not cry in front of the small boy. "Come here, Julius." She said, nudging the boy over. He followed tentatively.

"Look at these cats." She said, pointing at the cats she had drawn over the wall. "This is Arthur." She said and pointed to a specific one that had a bow around his throat.

"Who's Arthur?" The boy asked curiously, tears starting to dry on his cheeks as he looked at the drawings.

"My cat."

"You have a cat?" He asked incredulously.

"No." She admitted, starting to blush. "But one day I will have one. And I'm going to name him Arthur, after King Arthur."

"Who's that?" Julius asked, awed by the older girl's knowledge.

"My father said he was a king that lived a long time ago, Merlin himself helped him." The girl said importantly. "He won many battles."

"Oh." Julius whispered.

"He's going to be brave, my Arthur." She said, smiling at the cat. "Braver than everyone."