EXILE | TOM RIDDLE

13. ...If One Of Them Is Dead

If Tom is a plague, then I am a peasant from a small village, fleeing across the country to avoid his touch from infecting my lungs, from rotting my mind and body in one. It is a difficult task indeed, avoiding the man who seems to have a fixation on me, but I am doing a surprisingly good job of it.

I rarely leave my friends sides, be it Abigail or Alphard or even the ever grumpy Finn. Being alone puts me at risk for Tom and him cornering me, which he seems keen on doing, his eyes always locked on me during classes and meals.

"What's with him?" Abigail points out on Halloween night, nudging in Tom's direction without actually looking at him. We are seated in the library, pouring over our homework, where he just so happens to be as well, observing us from his table. Not us — me. He has not a care for Abigail Butler.

"He's been staring at you for weeks. Months, even," she continues when I say nothing, my stomach churning so much that I worry if I open my mouth, I may throw up. "Did something happen between you two?"

I shake my head. "No, nothing happened between us."

"I can tell you're lying," Abigail singsongs, a laugh slipping from her lips. "What happened, Beck? Come on, you need to tell me. I'm your best friend."

"Nothing," I insist. "Nothing happened. We just...I just...decided it is better I do not speak to him as much."

"What, you finally realized he's a proper weirdo?"

"Something like that, yeah," I scratch the back of my neck. "He just...was rude to me. So I have decided not to speak to him anymore."

"Good for you," she reaches over and squeezes my shoulder, grinning at me through her pearly white teeth. "You deserve better than that arsehole."

"What arsehole?"

I gulp, not needing to turn around to know who is hovering behind us. Though I do anyways, collecting all my pride and moving so I can stare at him, at his perfect body and handsome face that masks the Devil himself.

"Your mum," Abigail snorts, earning a fiery glare from Tom, though he says nothing on the subject, instead diverting his attention towards me.

His eyes are narrowed as a smirk slides onto his lips, and his head tilts to the side. "Rebekah, may we speak on our own for a moment? I have a question about History of Magic, and I know you're the best in the class."

My gaze flickers to Abigail, who is staring at Tom with disgust. "Why can't I listen to it?"

"It is fine," I interject before Tom can come up with an excuse. Rising to my feet, I turn to Abigail, giving her a nod. "I will be right back."

"Don't take too long," she calls after me, learning a loud shush from the librarian in the corner.

Tom leads me out of the mostly empty library and into the void hallway, turning down the corner and eventually settling on a door that I know leads into an abandoned classroom. "Ladies first," he begins as he opens the door, flashing me a horrifically charming grin that has my stomach churning once again and bile rising in my throat.

I oblige, stepping through the door and allowing him to close it behind him, locking us in. Trapping me.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked him this the day I overheard his conversation with Slughorn, yet I ask again, needing to know.

He shakes his head, taking a step towards me. I should feel relief, but all that consumes me is anxiety, as his body nears mine, to the point where my back is against the wall, and his chest is nearly pressing against me. "Why would I kill you, Little Bird? I need you."