Myrtle
Tom Riddle.
That is his name.
And he is perfect.
She sees him in a different way to others. She can see the softness inside him that he only ever reserves for her. She can see how the dark eyes people wince at are actually able to see into another's soul – not in an uncomfortable way, either. In a way that makes her feel loved, understood, at last. How his mouth does not smirk in a mocking way, but because he has tricked her into giving him sacred information about her.
At least, that's what Myrtle tells herself.