Not About Angels (A Tom Riddle Story)

Chapter 4

On her first night there, Abigail passed through the gates of hell. Standing on the balancing point of life and death, she pulled herself back. She had accepted her fate. She was so alone in this world, with no place to go, and no one to call home. Even in her young mind, she knew that no one wanted her.

Years after, Abigail often wondered, if she had died then, would the world be different? Would he be different?

Mrs. Cole directed Abigail back to her room, with Penny and all the others. They looked at her, but didn't talk. Lillian looked as if she wanted to speak, but one look at Penny told her to close her mouth. Penny crossed her arms, sitting on her bunk. It was a top bunk, of course, and she had it all to herself. If She felt shame, she did not let it show. The others, however, at least managed to look a little sympathetic.

" You-you can share my bunk." Lillian said softly, breaking the edged silence.

"Oh. Alright." Abigail nodded. Too young to understand hate, all was forgiven.

Penny said nothing, going back to her drawing. She drew pictures of the ocean on pieces of scrap paper. After all, there was not much to draw around there.

Abigail had spent three days in the nursery, where Thomas Lind lived. It really wasn't a nursery anymore, since the place no longer had infants. Thomas Lind was a most curious man. He spent his days scribbling on pieces of paper and adjusting strange instruments, occasionally feeding Abigail a cup of warm tea, or some bitter-sweet tonic. They said Thomas Lind was Mrs. Cole's lover. He stayed in the orphanage, as a doctor (though it was evident he was no doctor) and conducted his strange business inside the abandoned nursery. Abigail stayed mostly silent, and Thomas Lind had no indication of interacting with her. His vocabulary for the three days mostly consisted of "good morning", and "drink this".

Abigail silently wished for the boy to come back, but he never did.

Dinner time rolled around, and she, along with others, were called to the dining hall. To call it a "hall," was really an overstatement. It was just part of an old seller they had reconstructed by placing long tables and chairs, though not enough to sit all the children. There was, however, a fireplace, and all the children fought to sit near it. Abigail trailed silently being Penny and her entourage, looking around at everything in curiosity. She searched the crowd for his eyes, but found nothing. Maybe he was an angel. Maybe he was part of a fever dream, a vision in her sickness.

"What are you gawking at?" Lillian asked.

" I'm looking for someone." Abigail replied.

" Someone? who would you know?"

"I don't know his name."

Lillian's short-spanned attention was then directed to Penny's telling of some seemingly hilarious story. Abigail tried to sit, but Penny slapped her away.

"Penny-" She began.

Penny shot her a harsh glare and said, " I don't want to sit next to you."

Abigail felt stung. She thought that the girls had accepted her, after the incident. She then turned around to sit next to Lillian, who glanced at Penny, and shooed Abigail away. Penny's hold on the others were firm, and she would not let a newcomer be welcomed warmly into their circle. Abigail did not understand Penny's distain for her, but Penny did.

It wasn't Abigail herself, of course. She had done nothing wrong, after all, just a child of four. However, the situation gave Penny a rare chance to wield her power. Penny was, of course, and orphan herself. Her father died in the great war, fighting in the trenches of France. By this, Penny held herself to be superior, and by this superiority, Penny cajoled and bullied the girls in her room to be her allies. She often reminded herself that she was the daughter of a hero, while the others were not. Not only that, she was also the oldest, marking her out as an obvious leader. Being a penniless orphan, Penny's power did not extend far beyond the cracked walls of room 22, but with any rare circumstance to exercise it, she would. Just when her hold on the girls was starting to loosen, Abigail came.

Poor, small Abigail, such an obvious target. The youngest, weakest, and newest, the Prostitute's abandoned daughter.

Penny desperately needed this kind of confirmation, so she sought it in Abigail.

When the girls came back to the room, Penny confronted Lillian.

" Lily?" She asked.

" Yeah?"

" Did you see the mark on her arm?"

"What mark?"

" It is red. I believe it might be the sign of some disease." Penny told her, even though she knew it was obviously a birthmark.

" Ew!"

" Exactly. Don't let her bunk with you, unless you want to catch some whore's disease?"

Lillian looked terrified.

" But we can't let her sleep on the floor anymore.......Mrs.Cole will be angry." Lillian said.

"Mrs. Cole won't know." Penny assured her.

" But if she gets sick again. Even the thought of that sight gives me shivers. "

" Then take out Bridget's mattress for her." Penny suggested, a cruel smiled on her face.

Lillian looked horrified, at the mention of the name. Bridget Tanner died a year ago, on that mattress.

"I don't wanna touch it."

"Well I ain't touching it. So you either bunk with her or give her the mattress."

" Oh, alright then." Lillian agreed.

That night, Abigail slept on the dead girl's mattress, but of course, she didn't know. She was grateful that they didn't make her sleep on the floor again. Halfway through the night, she dreamt of Miranda. She wept silently, wanting to be in warm, welcoming arms again.

Abigail heard the faint sound of footsteps outside the window, she rose up, and walked to it. It was a beautiful night, the moon gliding just above the pitch-black ocean, illuminating with with its light-yellow glow. The place could be so beautiful, if one finds the heart to look.

She climbed up and opened it, not caring that the harsh ocean wind stung her skin under the thin nightgown. She walked on to the dock, a part of the Orphanage where no one really goes, mostly because it was always wet and moldy. 

She saw a figure, illuminated by the moonlight, sitting at the edge of the dock. It was him again, the prince in moonlight. He sat there so quietly, his eyes staring into the vast black ocean, his feet dipped in its ice-cold waters. He needed no wings.

" Hello." Abigail muttered, waving to him.

Tom Riddle turned around, looking at the small girl. 

" Go inside." He told her.

" Then why are you here?" She asked.

" Because I like it here."

" So do I. Its so pretty, isn't it?"She said, sitting down next to him.

It was an unusually clear night, with a thousand stars sprinkled across the night sky.

Tom Riddle did not want to talk. He sat there, and looked at the moon, then at her. Her teeth chattered in the cold, she wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm.

"Go inside." He ordered.

" Will you be my friend?" Abigail suddenly asked. This place was so lonely.

" I'm an angel, I don't exist, remember?" He said.

" I know. But it'd be nice if you could talk to me."

Riddle laughed. She amused him.