Burning Obsessions : Tom Riddle

22: Prisoner of Riddle

[Victoria's pov]

The next few days go by in a blur. I sometimes dream of Serenity's ghost dancing in the snow, before I'm bluntly awakened by a jolt. I can't decide which is worse: the fact that I'm dreaming of her corpse, or waking up to realise it's just a dream and she's really gone.

I think back to her grave. How lonely and abandoned it looks and the snow falling over the slab on the ground that read, "the brightest wallflower" in the middle of a thestral residence. I conjured her flowers and kissed the cold ground where her soul would forever rest...

The next few days, one noticed her disappearance. Not even Druella, who's enjoying the rest of her Holiday with the Blacks. No one seemed to notice Riddle and I making our way back to the castle after I paid my respects. Riddle merely watched with no reaction. It must've been his first time at a burial, despite all of the people he's killed. I know he has seen more than just blood in a person's hand.

Riddle was of more help with the blood that stained the snow. He melted the small field opening and moments later, a new layer of snow had fallen in place.

Thankfully, not many were residing in the castle, as my neck was still horribly bruised and purple. It caused a strain on my voice and I wore turtlenecks for the next few days. I couldn't produce any spells. It was as if my ability to use magic had almost died.

I haven't left my room since that night. Three days later, Riddle began to bring me food from the kitchens. Not as an act of courtesy, but almost like a peace offering. A slow move to get me on his side.

Today, he brought me a couple of sandwiches, a warm mug of hot water, and a slice of gooseberry pie. He neared my bed and sat beside me as I faced him, laying on my pillow. We didn't say a word to each other, neither did I lock eyes with him but I could feel his gaze.

"Your power will weaken if you don't eat something."

"What do you care about besides power," I said. "You've got plenty."

He tilted his head slightly, amused. "You do not know power then."

But I sat up and positioned myself to give him more room. He set the tray on my lap and faced me, waiting for me to take a bite, but one thing was on my mind.

He could read my expression.

"It's not poisoned," he said, grabbing one of the sandwiches and tearing a bite of it. It was my first time ever seeing him eat anything–doing something so normal. It could almost change my perspective about him if I didn't know any better.

I gave in and took the other sandwich for myself. We both ate in silence and I stared down at the mug, realising the odd bubbles fizzing.

"It's a tonic to help you sleep better," Riddle mentioned. "Can't imagine how easy it is for you to sleep after losing someone."

His comment may have not been to intentionally hurt me, but it made me realise how many times he's probably done this. How many times he's manipulated others over a tragedy and I was just another one of those victims.

I swallowed hard.

"Get out," I said orderly. Riddle hesitated and didn't move.

It made me fume.

"I'm not going to be another one of your victims, Riddle. Leave."

He stood up silently and made his way towards the door. He paused, his back away from me, then said,

"You're no victim of mine, Victoria."

For some reason, it angered me to the point I threw the plate towards him. He shut the door and the plate shattered against the wood. I removed his stupid ring around my neck and threw it towards the door as well. I heaved lightly and his words sank in.

He was right. I wasn't his victim. I was his prisoner.

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December 11th, 2023