Not About Angels (A Tom Riddle Story)

Chapter 10

Thomas Lind stared at the girl, eyes wide open. 

Abigail saw it all. 

Tom Riddle tied to the bed, his limbs strapped down by leather buckles, needles in his skin, his face distorted in pain, his screams penetrating her bones. His face was pale, his cheeks drained of all life.  

Thomas Lind watched her, both scared and excited. 

Abigail was shaking, from head to toe. 

She had no idea what she just did. 

She had made an almost inhuman noise, filling the whole room with her scream. The sound waves shattered the windows, cracked the walls, and hurt Thomas Lin's ears. When she saw what she saw-Tom Riddle, tied up, tortured, on the brink of death, her powers overtook her. She couldn't control the energy using through her veins. She could not hold back the power racing through her blood. It exploded, in an atomic, catastrophic burst, shattering all fragile items in the room. 

Thomas Lind's smile darkened. So Tom Riddle wasn't alone in his strange powers. This little girl, the one that should've died-but did not-shared in this unnatural ability.   

Tears fell down her cheeks, she felt so scared. 

Thomas Lind back away, exhausted. He'll let them go today, but next time, they won't be so lucky.  

" I'll tell Mrs. Cole." Abigail said, shaking with anger. 

Thomas Lind laughed, shaking his head. 

" I'll tell her what you've been doing to Tom!" She threatened. 

He waved it aside. 

" Tell her then. Its useless. Who will believe you? Tom won't tell, will you?" Thomas Lind asked the boy. 

Tom Riddle gritted his teeth and gave a muffle "no." 

"Good boy." Thomas Lind said, leaving the room. 

Tom Riddle struggled to push his heavy body off the bed, his every limb pulling apart and griping  him with pain as he did. 

Abigail rushed to help him. 

His skin was scorching hot, naturally warm with the high voltages of electricity. 

His skin was bruised, etched deep with purple marks that covered his arms and legs. 

Every step he took was like walking on the edge of a hot knife, a thousand degrees of pain rushing into his body with every move. 

Abigail held him, supporting him, walking with him. She held his limp body close to hers, trying to get him out of the dreadful room.    

Her heart bled for the boy. What did he ever do to deserve this torture? 

She listened to his heartbeat, fast, slow, then fast again. He shivered, collapsing in her arms. She couldn't hold his weight, going down with him. They fell to the floor, the small girl wrapping her arms around a thin boy.  

They fell together, breaking each other's fall. 

She wanted to protect him, she wanted to hold him. His face held a vulnerability she had never seen before. 

In that moment, he was not Tom Riddle. He was lost, never to be found. Never loved, never nurtured, never sheltered. He was a just a boy with no where to go and no place to call home, with no one to care for, and nothing to live for. 

Silent tears rolled down his bruised cheek, defeat at last. It was the only time he ever allowed himself to cry in front of another living soul,  and the last. The tears, like droplets of crystal, trickled gently down his cheeks and onto his chest, staining the wounds, stinging with their saltiness. 

She wanted to protect him. In that moment, Abigail decided that she was going to protect this boy for the rest of her life, no matter what it cost her. She wrapped her arms around him, giving warmth to his cold body. She clutched his shaking shoulders, calming him.

Silence. Wetness. Salt. 

He liked the warmth.  

Snowmen needed the cold, but some things are worth melting for. 

The warmth spread to the outer edges of his glaciers, encasing them in a pleasant stroke of sunshine. So this is what it felt like, to be held. 

" Why?" He asked her.  

She was crying too. 

" Why did you come here?" He said, looking up at the face so close to his own. Wet eyes, red lips.  

" I was looking for you." She told him. "But I couldn't find you anywhere else." 

He stayed silent for a second, collecting himself. She wiped the tears off his cold cheeks. He flinched, but then accepted it. Her soft hands glided-like smooth butter-across his freckled cheeks. Her hand was so warm, so full of pulsations, life in its vibrancy and fullness.  

" Stupid girl." He said, wiping the tears off her cheeks. 

"Stupid girl. Do you know what you just got yourself into?" He asked her, his eyes catching hers. 

" No-no." 

" He's going to hurt you. He saw what happened." Tom Riddle told her. 

" But he was going to kill you." She said. 

Tom Riddle smiled. " You can't kill someone who's already dead. Not even Thomas Lind can do that." 

"NO! you're not dead. You're alive." She told him, crying a little more, her heart breaking to pieces for him. 

She broke into sobs, her shoulders shaking, her tears never stopping. 

" I'm going to protect you." She said, holding him closer. 

" Silly girl. I don't need you to protect me." He said, patting her back. 

" I don't care! They're never going to hurt you again."She said stubbornly, refusing to let go of him. 

He laughed. Tears as he laughed, cries as he smiled.  

He held her closer, desperately grasping, holding, ravaging, onto every bit of heat he could. Somehow, if he held onto it, he would't feel so cold anymore. 

She was just like him. 

Freaks, outliers, prodegies. 

They could do things no one else can, wether for better or worse.  

They were just two kids, holding on to each other on the cold concrete floor. In a world with no empathy, no fervor, no compassion, no love, they had each other.  

Maybe one day, he'll remember this. 

Maybe, when it comes time to destroy her, he'll think of her promises.

And make it less painful. 

Maybe not.