Not About Angels (A Tom Riddle Story)

Chapter 21

"I sorry, Abi. You don't know just how much I've missed you." He said, burying his head onto her thin shoulders. "Forgive me. I never meant to be so cold." 

"I forgive you, Tom. I forgive you." Abigail muttered, breathing in the soft, pleasant scent of his dark hair. 

"I've missed you." He whispered again, this time pulling away, taking a long, deep look about her. 

"You've grown." he said, a famous half-grin etching across his face. 

"So have you. I can barely go up to your shoulder now." She said. 

"But you've done something very wrong." he suddenly said, stern now. 

"What have I done?" she asked, immediately anxious.  

" Something very very bad." 

"I've done nothing bad."  

"I'll never forgive you. Never." 

"Why?" She asked, in tears now. He turned around, but she held on to the edges of his robes. 

"Stay." She said between sobs. 

Just like sand, the silk of his robes slipped through her thin fingers, evaporating into thin air. He ran down the hall, fast like lightning. 

She called after him,  running, but never catching up. 

"Tom Riddle! Tom!" She yelled at the top of her lungs, hoping he would stop, just for a moment to glance behind. 

He never did. 

As his slender silhouette disappears in the distance, she felt her knees buckle underneath her, sending her tumbling onto the ice-cold concrete floor of the orphanage. Suddenly, she was in that nursery again. The place of nightmares, of pain, of pure insanity. 

Thomas Lind pushed her down onto the cold, stale mattress, tying her arms down with thick leather buckles. His pale, deranged eyes etched into hers, his grisly, unwashed hair touching her cheek. 

"Have fun, sweetheart." he saids, followed by an intense fit of laughter. 

All at once, a thousand needles pierced her delicate flesh. Only now, Tom Riddle wouldn't be here to save her. 

"Tom! Tom! Help me!" She screamed, holding on desperately to her last grasp of hope. 

Just like that, Abigail was awoken from her dream.

Real tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and stinging. She clutched on to her blanket until her knuckles turned ghost-white. Where did he go? Why did he have to run away? 

What did she ever do? 

"Shut up." A voice said, breaking up Abigail's thoughts. 

It was Penny.  

Abigail sniffled, suppressing another sob. 

"Shut the hell up, Abigail. He's forgotten all about you, that Tom Riddle. He has a new girlfriend now. you're nothing to him."  

"Why do you hate me?" Abigail asked softly. That question has burned on her mind for the past eight years. From the day Penny set eyes on her, the taunting never stopped.  

"Who are you? I don't hate you. You're just a whore's daughter, not worth my time." Penny laughed, snorting, as though Abigail isn't even fit for her precious hatred. 

"My mama's not like that." Abigail said, although her voice quivered slightly. 

" You're gonna end up just like her, just see it. No one will have you, Abigail Wool."