"Fall asleep, little girl, close your eyes. Because if you never sleep, your dreams never come true. Little girl, close your eyes, rest your head, I'll be there tonight."
Anne hummed in the dark room. If she had the nerves, she might've screamed the words, but the truth is, Anne was a fearful little child. She was sickly, chalky skin with raspberry blotches on her cheeks, and little, skinny limbs. Her delicate hands trembled and shook with anxiety; Anne was always nervous, her mind bordering breaking point.
The song she sang relieved some of the pressure on her mind; her father use to sing it to her when she woke up with nightmares. He said that singing in the dark will keep the monsters at bay. Anne wondered if her father sang while the bad man murdered him. And if he did, it didn't chase away the monsters for him or her mother. Anne was sent to an orphanage shortly after the murder, where she didn't speak for a month. She had seen the aftermath of the ordeal and it was forever engrained her innocent little mind.
Anne swung her legs over the side of the bed, slipping her tiny feet into well-worn slippers and padded silently to the boy's section of the orphanage. She opened the door, peeked around the corner, and ran into the bed closest to the window.
"Tom." she whispered, touching the sleeping boy's shoulder, "Tom."
"Hu-Anne! What are you doing out of bed?" he reprimanded her, but moved over, allowing her to slip into bed with him.
"I had a nightmare." Anne sniffled, a tiny tear quivering in her eyelashes, "I tried singing, but they wouldn't go away." She clapped her hands over her ears, pulling her legs up to her chest. Tom sighed, but tucked the blanket around her. The little girl gave a shaky smile before drifting back into sleep.
"Monsters aren't real, little girl." Tom stroked the girl's black hair as he settled back into bed.
Tom had first met Anne when she arrived, a silent, raven at the front door of the orphanage. He was three years elder to her five years of age, and felt instantly connected to her. Anne became Tom's first project; he sat with her for many soundless hours and held her hand. At first, she sat and stared out the window, oblivious to his presence. Then she began to look at him and watch him with her black eyes. Finally, she opened her mouth, saying, "I love you." Tom never forgot those words, even when he grew up and forgot everything else. From then on, the pair was inseperable; finding Anne fast asleep with Tom was not uncommon. Madame Poulla, the owner of the orphanage, was worried; she felt if Anne lost Tom or Tom lost Anne, the other would be destroyed forever.
"Anne, wake up." Tom nudged her with his elbow, rolling out of bed. Anne opened one eye, smiling angelically.
"We're going to the cliffs today!" Anne leapt from the bed, all fears from last night long forgotten, "Meet me in five minutes!" She skipped from the room in excitement, her dark hair bouncing on her shoulders. Tom grinned at her retreating back and began to dress for the day.
Madame Poulla counted each child as they reached the "cliffs." The "cliffs" were really one large cave, a violent bay, and a splotch of sand. Most people viewed the spot as a gloomy area, but the children were happy to run and splash their feet in the water. Anne held Tom's hand tightly as she tiptoed into the water. It was icy cold, forcing her to shiver.
"It's not that cold!" Tom laughed, releasing Anne's hand and running knee deep into the war, "See?" Anne pouted, putting her fists on her hips.
"That's not fair," she giggled, "I can't go out that far."
"Yes, you can, I'll make sure you aren't taken by the current," Tom waddled towards her and pulled her arm. Anne allowed herself to be dragged into the deep water; it lapped at her stomach. She swallowed nervously, feeling the current swirl angrily around her feet. Closing her eyes, she clenched her toes into the sand and tensed her muscles. The current slapped against her, but she didn't budge. Popping one eye open, she looked at Tom's chuckling face, "I think I have it!"
"That's great!" Tom splashed water at her and she lost her concentration on the current, instead joining into the water fight.
An hour passed, and a tired Anne trudged onto shore, only perking up when Madame Poulla offered her a sandwich. She sat in the sand and waited for Tom to join her, before she began eating. Black clouds were steadily approaching in the distance, causing Madame Poulla to tut disapprovingly.
"I think we will be leaving early, children," she stated, quickly doing a head count, "One more hour only." With the time limit, the children dispersed quickly, running back into the water or up to the cave. Anne tugged Tom back into the water.
"I really like the water." Anna hooked her arm with Tom's. "I feel like I'm connected to everyone."
"We sort of are. The ocean goes everywhere." Tom swirled his finger in the salty sea, "I promise to find you the prettiest sea shell and give it to you." Tom quickly set off to do that task, leaving Anne alone in the deep water. The current was circling her ankles, when it suddenly stopped. Anne glanced down curiously, when a giant wave thrust her off her feet. She went under, and the current caught her, pulling her farther out. Anne flapped her arms several times, bursting out the water to catch a mouthful of air, before being dragged back down.
"TOM!" she cried out underwater, opening her stinging eyes. She could no longer see the sandy shores; quite frankly, she could barely see anything with the black enclosing her vision.
"Anne, look at thi-" Tom held up a bright pink shell, turning around, "Anne! Where are you? This isn't funny." He splashed the water, looking back at the beach to see if she had gone to shore. She was no where to be seen.
"Tom!" Madame Poulla called to the dark haired boy, "Time to go!"
"I can't find Anne!" Tom started running farther out to sea, "Anne! Anne! Please!" His feet no longer touched the ground so he kicked his legs to stay above the water.
"Tom, come back this instance! Anne is probably over here." Madame Poulla counted the children's head quickly. Two missing: Anne and Tom. Watching Tom's bobbing head, Madame Poulla stumbled to the automobile they had taken.
"Sir!" she said to the driver, "A child might have drowned, please help me!" The man ran out of the truck and towards the beach, stopping only to the take off his shoes. He dove in and started towards Tom. But Tom had different plans; he kept swimming farther and farther out, but he was pulled down by exhaustion and the current.
"Anne . . ." he began crying, his tears melting into the sea. The driver grabbed Tom by the collar and started hauling him towards shore.
"No!" Tom struggled, "You forgot Anne, she's still in there."
The driver paused, "Will you swim in, if I go back to get her?"
"Yes, yes, just go find her!" Tom begged; he waited till the driver was heading back out before he drifted towards the sand. Madame Poulla grabbed him from the water and sat him down. He was exhausted, eyelids slowly closing, but he had to wait for Anne to lay next to him . . . See her smile, and talk about the ocean. . . and singing. . .
He catupaulted back up, when he saw the driver step onto the beach, carrying a tiny girl.
"Anne!" Tom smiled happily, "Sir, bring her over here next to me, she must be so tired, but I can take care of her." The driver's eyes were blank with remorse; Madame Poulla ran over and covered her mouth.
"Oh no." she gasped, and then turned to the wide-eyed children, "Go, go to the automobile, now!" The children ran off.
"You poor boy." the driver said softly, looking at Tom, laying Anne down on the sand. Her skin was tinged blue was the cold water, her black eyes empty and devoid, and her dark hair waterlogged.
"Anne, come on, we're going home." Tom walked over, still smiling, shaking her shoulder, "Time to wake up."
She didn't move.
"Anne," This time, Tom's voice was tinged with worry and despespartion, "ANNE!"
"She dead, son." the driver pulled Tom away from Anne's body. Tom screamed, his voice piercing the silent bay. The ocean bubbled up, raging against the sand; rocks from the surrounding cliffs tumbled into the water. Tom, with more strength than a eight-year-old boy should have, shoved the driver aside and ran back to Anne's body. He grabbed her hand and placed it to his lips.
"I love you, Anne." he whispered into her tiny fingers, "I promise to see you one day. Goodbye." But he couldn't let go, just couldn't let go of her pale hand.
Many hours later, Tom sat alone in his room, staring out the window. His grey-green eyes, that only this morning had been glowing with happiness, were dark with anger. A light had been switched off inside his mind; Anne's death was his first step towards becoming a monster. The running start to becoming Lord Voldemort.
"I'm sorry, Anne, monsters must exist," Tom began laughing, strangely cold for a boy, "because I'm one of them."
Years passed, and the cheerful boy that Anne knew had long disappeared. Tom Riddle was a sullen, irate teenager, and a cruel, menacing adult. He had lost the light, and in that, he had lost himself. His promise to Anne was long forgotten, until he was destroyed, stuck in a cursed life. And he then realized that he would never have his light back, forever alone in darkness.