Tom Riddle | Short Stories

Psyche

"Mister Riddle," her voice cut through the stale prison air like a summer breeze, he turned his attention to her from his book,

"Doctor Tanith," he addressed cordially, marking his place in his book, and sitting up to face her on his bed, "To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure?"

"Unexpected?" She asked, and he assessed her for a moment,

Her clip board was there, sure but the regular blank pieces of paper were accompanied not only by previous notes but a file. A heavy file from the looks of it.

"You come on Tuesdays and sometimes Thursdays, and today is a Saturday." Said Tom, the glass separating them fogged his view of her. "What could be so important that you cancel your weekend plans to spend your Saturday with me?"

"Mister Riddle," she began,

"Tabitha," he addressed, and she frowned, and scribbled something down on that damn clipboard, "I hate it when you do that,"

"I apologize, Mister Riddle." She said,

"We're friends aren't we, Tabitha? Call me Tom." He said,

"Tom,"

There it is.

She so rarely indulged him in this. She must truly be desperate.

"Have you brought me What I asked for?" He asked, and she pulled a set of chalk pastels from her briefcase, "Whatever did I do to deserve such a thing?"

"It's a matter of what you will do," said Tabitha,

"I see what you did there," said Tom, smiling at her, "Now that you've dangled the treat in front of me, what do you wish for me to do for it?"

"You aren't an animal, Tom. You are a human being." She said,

"Then why, pray tell am I in a box, Tabitha? Why not speak face to face?" He asked,

They both knew the answer to that. His past three psychologists had risen at the challenge and been brutally named by him.

"You know why, Tom." She said, and she shifted in her seat, before resuming her posture, "I understand you wish to get back to your book-"

"No, I don't." He replied plainly, "I've read it three times now. It is dreadfully difficult to receive new reading material. Do you enjoy literature, Tabitha?"

She didn't like when he didn't call her doctor. But she had gotten the snake man to speak more than any other psychiatrist. So evidently he preferred a structured convivial approach which made him feel like a person again.

"I do, Mister Riddle, but if I may-"

"Call me Tom, Tabitha." He said, and she took a deep breath,

"Tom, this is urgent," she said,

"Then for all our sakes answer the question. Do you or do you not enjoy literature?" He asked imploringly as though the world was ending and she was the only person who could stop it.

"Yes I do." She said,

"Who are your favourite Literary characters?" He asked, and she loosened the grip on her pen and a smirk tugged at his lips,

"Amy March, Doctor Jekyll, and Mister Hyde." She answered, "Now, Tom we really must-"

"We are having a conversation, Tabitha." He said as though offended, "I am surprised at your choice of March sister. Explain."

"She was simply the most interesting, and she evolved the most over the course of the story." She said plainly,

"Was she your first analysis?" Asked Tom, and the influx of heat to her cheeks told him the answer was yes,