Not About Angels (A Tom Riddle Story)

Chapter 3

"Tom, now-" Mr. Lind said, trying to hold they boy down. 

" I am not crazy!" Tom yelled, kicking the chair to the wall. His eyes were burning, filled with an intensity and anger no child of his age should possess. 

" It's only a shot. It will make you-" 

" No." Tom said firmly, staring at Thomas Lind square in the eye. Thomas Lind backed away.  

" Oh, Mr. Lind! You must attend to her immediately." Yelled Mrs. Cole, bursting in from the halls, opening the door. She carried Abigail's limp body. 

" Good God, is she dead?" Thomas Lind asked. 

" No, not yet. Still breathing. Don't let her die! If she dies, we'll lose even more funding!" Mrs. Cole cried, frantic. Not that she cared too much for Abigail, but what a shame it would be, to die so young. More importantly, if word gets out, the orphanage will lose funding.  

Tom observed the girl. It was the little girl he had seen earlier, knocking in the snow. A pale, almost blue creature, usually small for her age. He had heard whispers about her, the prostitute's abandoned daughter. 

Thomas Lind laid her down on the small bed, and examined her pulse. Weak, inconsistent. 

" She'll die." He told Mrs. Cole. "It's too late. She's burning up with a fever right now, there's no solution." 

" Are you sure?" Mrs. Cole asked. 

" I am not. It's all up to fate, isn't it? What happened, anyways? Was she left out too long? Did she try to run away?" 

" No. She slept on the floor. Girl decided she was too good for the bed."  

Abigail laid there, her skin almost blending with the grey-white sheets. Her cheeks held no color, her face was characterized by a sick pallor. Her fingers twitched, occasionally, followed by a pained whimper. Mrs. Cole shook her head. But alas, if she was meant to die, she will. 

"Lord have mercy on her poor soul." Mrs. Cole said quietly. 

"Watch her, will you? Tell us when she-uh-you know." Mrs. Cole asked Tom, while she walked Thomas Lind outside to discuss other, more pressing matters. 

Riddle watched the girl. On the brink of death, almost silent, almost gone. Others would've been scared, others would've backed away. But he saw a certain beauty. A unique, grotesque beauty in pain, in suffering. Who can avoid certain death, after all? It was man's greatest weakness, his morality and his pain.  

Abigail felt hell in her bones. She was cold, but burning at the same time. She was going to die, she was sure. Maybe her mama'll pray for her if she's dead. Maybe Miranda will miss her. Maybe not. 

She opened her eyes, the images were blurry at first, then they slowly dilated into focus. A figure sat beside the bed. He was beautiful. He looked like a statue in the faint sunlight, reflecting off his temples. HIs eyes looked like two black stones, focused, not on something, but somewhere, somewhere only he knows. A few freckles sprinkled across his cheeks, over a slender nose and pink lips. There was something, perhaps in her fever, wonderfully inhuman about him. 

" Are you an angel?" She asked. Surely he was. Miranda told her about the angels. They were beautiful creatures who lived in heaven, only to be seen by those who died. Miranda also told her that they were both destined for hell, and will never see an angel. But she didn't believe Miranda. Her mama was a kind woman, surely they belonged in heaven. 

But where are his wings? She couldn't see them. Maybe he had no wings. 

Tom Riddle laughed. Angels? He never believed in such fantastic things. Angels never existed. Only monsters and devils. 

" No." He replied gently. 

" Am I dead?" Abigail asked, almost sure of it. 

" Of sorts, yes." Tom Riddle told her. 

" What?"

" You're trapped." He said. 

"Oh." 

" So I'm alive?" She asked again. 

He didn't respond, but instead gave her a smile. A smirk, more of, but from Tom Riddle, that was considered a smile.  

She smiled back. He was the first person her to give her a smile. A half-smile, granted, but a beautiful one.  

Mrs. Cole came back into the room, ready to call the gardener to bury her.  

"Oh-Abigail! You're alive!" Mrs, Cole exclaimed. 

" Of sorts, yes." She replied.