Permanence
You remember the day in nothing but flashes. A light and pain and more light and more pain and the distant scent of the ocean which forever changes your perception of fear and the face of a boy filled with so much hate that later on even just thinking about it you find the fear coming back.
You get back to the group. Mrs. Cole speaks briskly.
"Amy Bishop, Dennis Benson," she mixes up your last names again. A cough, throat cleared. "Amy Benson, Dennis Bishop, where were you?"
Your face whitens. Say something, Amy, say anything. Your mouth opens. No words come out. Where were you where were you where were you-
"The cave," Dennis says, looking at you sympathetically as your mouth fails you and your eyes widen and the smell of the ocean blocks out all of your other senses. It's overwhelming. "Tom brought us."
There's a boy and his eyes turn red as he tortures you and laughs. Adventure, he'd said, come with me and I'll show you an adventure.
People lie. And then you get tortured in the middle of a cave screaming while your best friend stares at you ashen faced and unable to stop anything and you're only nine and much too young to be worried about this-
"Tom Marvolo Riddle, what were you doing bringing them into a cave?" he was always charming and he's perfected the art of looking innocent and then he'll go and have red eyes and laugh evilly while all you feel is pain and bright light and the smell of the ocean.
You fail to bite back a sob. He fails to hide his laughter. You hide behind Mrs. Cole, shaking and trembling. He laughs harder.
"What's wrong?" the question is asked in an almost motherly way that you're not used to. You almost wish your voice would work. But whether you wish it did or not, your voice fails you anyway.
Instead of even attempting to answer, you sit down and curl up in a ball like it'll actually help or something. There's a crowd of the other kids around. You feel their stares.
"What's wrong?" Tom Riddle mocks in a way that's innocent to everyone that hasn't seen the real him and cruel to those that have. His smirk is as wide as the ocean and you feel like you're drowning in the scent that hangs in the air.
Come with me and I'll show you an adventure he'd said in the same tone and you'd believed but why didn't you see the signs? Oh god maybe if you'd known he wouldn't have- the pain- the flash of light- you should have known why didn't you know, why didn't you know? He always did seem far too innocent. Nice, even. People lie.
In the end it's probably good that you've always been small for your age because one of the bigger kids picks you up as you all make your way back to the orphanage. It's nice of him except you'll never thank him or even admit that because he's shaking as he holds you (or maybe it's you shaking, you can't tell) and he's looking afraid of you like you're mad or something. "I'm not mad," you try to say a second later, but decide against it the second you open your mouth.
Maybe you are mad. Maybe the entire thing was just your imagination or something, because if it wasn't how could Dennis not still be looking as terrified as he did before, how could he not be shaking at least as much as you? But then the pain comes back to you in a flash and you can't be mad because never in a million years would you have been able to remember that and the hate in his face, you can't have imagined that either.
You still have tears running down your eyes and they don't stop, not even when you're in your bed that night, and everyone's all done making sure you're okay. Which you aren't, and they weren't very happy with all of the cuts and bruises they found, but that's not the least of your worries.
You lock your door before going to sleep that night.
/
Time heals all wounds someone said once and it sounded so wise like a proverb or something that you couldn't help but believe it then. People lie. You think of this as every night you wake up in a cold sweat a silent scream lost on your lips breathing so heavily that you almost choke on your own saliva.
Occasionally, mercifully, you fall into a fit of dreamless sleep and it's so nice and relieving. But only occasionally. And even when that happens and you wake up relieved, then you remember why you're relieved and the memories come back to you anyway, so the dreamless sleep nights don't do much good.
The memory repeats itself over and over in your mind so much so that it almost doesn't surprise you each time- yet you still manage to find yourself caught off guard each time you see the light- the scent- the pain- the laugh- the hate. It's a deadly combination and you want to cry just thinking about it and while at first you tried to keep a little bit of your dignity and not show him how much he got to you, that plan faded about as quickly as it started.
You used to could look in the mirror and see someone that you assumed must be you but now you don't recognise yourself at all so you try to avoid it. Your eyes are sunken from a lack of sleep and your face is never a smile and what's more you have this haunted quality about you, like you're being tortured right at that moment. Which in a way you are, just thinking is torture.
Tom leaves for boarding school four months after the incident (even just referring to it as the incident leaves you shivering and tears sliding down your face) and you're happy you are, but the truth is it really doesn't matter if you see him or not because it's like he's always there to bring you back down.
Dennis tried helping you at first, everyone did. He'd knock on your door sometime after lights out and you'd have to come and unlock it for him and he'd come into your room and ask you how you were, never getting the hint that maybe he made you feel worse. Because he was there and he saw what happened but he's not waking up screaming for months after the incident, now is he? And it's not fair.
You two used to be best friends but now it's a good day if he doesn't say one word to you and you barely think about him at all. He's still there, in your life, watching out for you, you know. You know because you see him watching you sometimes and you try not to care, when really all you want to do is turn around and run back to your room every time. He's still there in your periphery and you know for a fact that he talked to Mrs. Cole on your behalf once or twice, but you can't find it in you to say anything to him.
You used to talk nonstop. Now you barely talk at all.
Just another thing Tom Riddle took from you- your voice your mind your sanity.
/
You count down the days until Tom Riddle comes back starting from the day he leaves and grow increasingly more shaken as each one passes.
The night before he does come back that first year you have a visitor in Dennis, even though he hasn't been in several months, and it's then that you realise that maybe he's not as unshaken as you think he is, maybe this has affected him too, in one way or another. Not that it matters.
He comes in and sits on your bed and wraps his arms around you like you actually matter (you're not stupid- you're a little mad orphan girl in a big world, you can think anything but that you actually matter) and it's strange because it's not just you needing him, it's like he actually needs you too. And maybe he does. For once you don't push him away.
Mrs. Cole knows a lost cause when she sees one sometimes so Dennis stays in your room all day while Tom is here and Martha brings your food to you so you don't have to go out and be anywhere near him. You can't get comfortable as long as Tom is anywhere near, and your nightmares get so much worse that you remember it with so much more clarity than you're still able to when you're awake.
An adventure, come with me and I'll take you on an adventure he'd said. And then pain and light and pain and light and the scent of the ocean and oh god just make it stop.
Your head is spinning with scenes and when he leaves they lift a little and you feel almost light-headed until you start counting down the days again, that's when you know that nothing is permanent and when people say that anything at all is, they're lying. People lie.
Life used to feel permanent. It doesn't anymore. This thought used to would have bothered you, but now it doesn't, seems more like a fact than a cause for despair, really.
What's so great about life, anyway?
/
The dreams don't stop. Or rather, the nightmares. The keep coming, just as bad, and on the days you actually manage to forget yourself, they hit you hard enough to ensure that you don't forget again.
As the years go by, Dennis doesn't stop comforting you. You've gotten so used to his presence that it's almost like it helps you breathe easier, or something. He's the only one you feel even close to comfortable around, and the only one you've been able to carry a conversation with without slipping into monosyllable answers.
But as the years go by, and Dennis doesn't need your presence as much, he stops coming nearly as often, and there's something so unsettling about the way things are changing but you can't quite put your finger on it.
Nothing's permanent. People lie. (An adventure, he'd said. Time heals. Some things are permanent. Come with me and I'll take you on an adventure-)
Sometimes you're almost normal. Several times, you manage to form a coherent response and receive a small smile and it surprises you so much so that you don't have the walls up to block it out, and smile uncertainly back. And while you can count the number of times on one hand, occasionally you even initiate a conversation.
It's a small improvement, and a small comfort, but at least there is one.
/
Next thing you know, there's a war going on, and you're leaving London with some other kids in a haze, separated from everyone and everything you once knew. You leave Dennis with swears and promises of how you'll find each other somehow, because these things that connect you have bound you for life. But you know you'll never look for him, and he'll never look for you either.
Seeing each other is almost like being haunted by ghosts of the past. You're better off trying to forget, even if you know it's a lost cause. Some things haunt you for life.
So maybe people don't lie like you thought they did before, maybe some things are permanent.
Like (flashes of light and pain and the scent of rain and cruel laughter and hate and the promise of adventure) memories.
/
You die in the ocean, the scent of fear enveloping you in its grasp- it's oddly fitting.
By the end of your life you've seen enough death and destruction and decay and can't help but feel that maybe you aren't the only fragile thing. You find this thought oddly comforting.
There's a light and a flash of pain (breathe, breathe) and the strong scent of the ocean and there's an evil laugh and hatred and-
Death is permanent.
A/N: Dedicated to the lovely Becca (Aebbe/Thepaperbagprincess). I fully know that my timeline what with the timing of evactuation and such isn't fully accurate, hence why I kept it vague. And I'm a complete stranger to being tortured and/or the effects of PTSD, so please don't judge me too harshly. :P
I hope you liked it!