EXILE | TOM RIDDLE

17. Snake in the Grass (I)

The school moves on from Finn's death too fast, in my opinion. If someone had died back home, we would go into mourning for weeks, at least, if not a month or two, adorned in only black and praying every day for their souls to find their place in Heaven.

But there is no black dresses, or praying. There is a funeral, and a wake, though I find myself feeling awfully out of place amongst his Gryffindor friends. Alphard does not attend, too heartbroken to bring himself to say goodbye to his lover for the final time. I do not blame him. There are few things worse in the world than a final goodbye.

Classes go on as usual — I am paired with Abigail for most things, not finding myself able or willing to speak to Tom. What had occurred between us in the hallway has finally settled in me, the fact that he had touched me in such an intimate way, and worse, that I had let him. I had liked it.

I wish I could find it in me to be disgusted with him, but alas, I am only saddened by how easily I was tempted. It is difficult now, to blame Eve in the garden for tasting that apple, now that I have had my own taste of pure, unrelenting sin.

Perhaps I am ashamed, embarrassed, but that is not the main reason I have avoided Tom like the plague. Instead, it is because I know if he touches me in such a way again, I will be pudy in his hands, more than willing to be manipulated to his wishes.

However, it seems as though Tom is just as hooked to me as I am him, as I find him staring at me in classes, eyeing me up and down as though he is plotting the best way to trap me. Little does he know, I am already caught in his snare, unable to escape. Not wanting to escape.

"Rebekah," Tom calls my name after a particularly grueling History of Magic class, in which the ghost professor droned on and on for a solid two hours on a subject I have never heard about, as I came before when it occurred.

Abigail, who is at my side, glances at me with raised eyebrows. "What does he want?"

I shrug, gulping as I feel my knees go weak. "I do not know. I will catch up to you later, okay?"

"Kay, but don't be too late for lunch. I heard they're serving lasagne — your favorite."

She skips away without another word, rushing to catch up with Alphard, who is mid conversation with Druella and her brother, a boy called Evander.

"Hello, Little Bird," Tom greets me moments later, his hand atop my shoulder, nails digging into my skin in a way that has my stomach doing backflips.

"What do you want, Tom?"

Even though I am not looking at him, I know he his grinning, as his hand moves from my shoulder to cup the back of my neck, underneath my hair. "Come with me."

"Why?" I ask simply, my breath hitching in my throat.

"Are you afraid?" Is all he responds with, his own question rather than an answer.

I say nothing, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my admission. I am afraid, afraid that wherever he leads me to will be where my life ends, but I will not say as much. Instead, I will keep my head high, and if I die, I will die with dignity.

"I want to show you something," he continues after he realizes I have no intention of speaking, his fingers still dancing atop the back of my neck. "I think you'll quite like it."

"Will it result with a knife against my throat?"

"No," he says simply. "I've got little use for you dead. No, I need you alive, for now, anyways."

"How reassuring," I respond, my tone thick with sarcasm.

The grip he has on the back of my neck tightens ever so slightly, irritation growing in him. "Why don't you trust me?"