Summary: Tom Riddle Jr. hates his mother. Tom/Merope. Dark. Incest. Drabble.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters.
Obsessed
Tom hates his mother for her weakness.
She should have been stronger and powerful enough to overcome trivialities like death. She had been the witch. She had held the power, and yet, she had still allowed his father to run away and deny his only son.
She had let herself be killed.
He closed his eyes and pictured his hands around a thin, pale neck, beneath a blurred face.
Struggling to escape, she would claw and bite at him. Only then would she fight for her life, knowing perfectly well that she would still die by his hand.
He wouldn't make it that easy however.
She had to pay after all.
With a flick of his wand and an uttered incantation, she would be screaming as her body contorted with unimaginable pain. She'd bleed and beg for death.
He bit his lip, thoroughly enjoying the jolt of pleasure brought on by that image.
If she was particularly willing, he thought with a smothered groan, he would even use a knife on her. He'd lovingly insert it into her, slowly fucking her with it after he cursed her to imagine his dear old father.
She'd feel pleasure, even as she unknowingly bled to death. At her peak, Tom decided, he would release the spell and watch as her pleasure gave way to terror.
The image of his broken mother, laying in a pool of her own blood came to mind.
A final thrust of his hand, and the fifteen year old emptied himself into his hand.
'Mum.'