Hierarchy of Need [t.r]

Chapter Fourteen

  "Why do you care?" Tom felt the cold bite through his skin but he ignored it by focusing on the fact that Delilah must be freezing. If he just focused on her fear and her pain, he could ignore his.

  "I never said I cared, I'm just curious. You're the way you are... so what happened to you?" Delilah tried to move away, but his arms wouldn't budge from the railing.

  "Don't deflect." He bit venomously. That dangerous energy cracked around him again, even more powerful than the time in that abandoned classroom. Delilah shook her head quickly, "I'm not deflecting. I'm serious. What the hell happened to you? You act the way you do for a reason. And I want to know why."

  She froze as his hand lifted. He was about to hit her, she was sure of it. Delilah closed her eyes, bracing for the impact, but a hit never came. No, what came next was much worse.

  His fingers danced lightly over her neck, dragging upwards. They felt too hot against her cold, wind bitten skin. Tom traced the line of her jaw softly before his grip tightened, it wasn't painful, but he wasn't letting go anytime soon. "Look at me." He ordered.

  Tom watched as her eyes hesitantly fluttered open, snowflakes were dusting her lashes and her eyes seemed to be glazed over. "What makes you think you have any right to ask such a question?" His deep voice cut through the wind, his hand still gripped her jaw and Delilah was sure he could feel her rapid pulse. "Pontmercy you need to get rid of whatever fanciful hope you have deeply embedded into your system, because it's never going to happen. You can't look at the first person you see who doesn't adhere to your moral code and want to dissect and fix them."

  "I'm not trying to fix you, I just want to know-" She began quickly but Tom cut her off by pushing her head back with his hand still holding her jaw firmly. Her upper body leaned dangerously over the edge of the railing, her soaked socks losing their grip on the ice.

  "Want to know what? Why you think I lack empathy? What, you think I must have an attachment issue or something else of the sort? Sociopathic tendencies? Antisocial? Or maybe you think it had something to do with my childhood? Poor Tom Riddle must have suffered through something tragic. Perhaps he was abused? Maybe you'll come up with some other sad excuse for my behavior." His tone was cold and her heart sank, a beat of silence passed before she worked up the courage to speak. "Were you?" She said slowly and he pushed her a bit further and her stomach gave a lurch at the drop below her.

  "For Merlin's sake, Pontmercy. That's not the bloody point. We're not friends, not even remotely."

  "I know that."

  "Then why do you keep trying!" He shouted and Delilah flinched. She'd never actually heard him raise his voice before.

  "Constantly you ramble nonsense about my character, about why I do things, what motivates me. You think you know me so well. But you haven't the faintest clue. Do you even realize how insufferable you are? And how disgustingly desperate it all seems? You won't even admit to yourself you find me attractive. That's the reason why you can't stay away from me. And it's not from your feigned curiosity about my 'troubled' psyche."

  Delilah felt pure anger, the death drop below her wasn't even a concern at the moment. "No, you're the one who doesn't have the faintest clue." She jabbed him in the chest with her hand, he didn't budge. "Yes it's true, you're attractive. I feel like that's a pretty obvious fact to the whole fucking world. Get over yourself! Merlin, you are the most narcissistic and conceited person, it physically makes me want to gouge my own eyes out. But you're wrong."

  Tom raised a brow, fully willing to push just a little further and watch in satisfaction as she plummeted to her death.

  "I am curious about you. Are you really that oblivious? You're an interesting person, a cunt, but interesting. You see the world in such a twisted way I can't wrap my head around. There has to be circumstances of your past to contribute to who you are now. And Tom, I don't pity you. I won't feel sorry for you. I never will. You don't deserve my attention, but you have it anyway. You've become so accustomed to disguising yourself, you can't even recognize who you really are. And that's no way to live. Who are you when no one is around? Do you even recognize yourself? You are pathetic but-" a scream cut off the rest of her sentence as he shoved her forward.