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Chapter 3
Tom Riddle
Merope watched him from behind a tree. She had been watching Tom Riddle for a while, now, and he had yet to notice her.
It had been five years since her mother's death, and her father and brother had gotten steadily crazier. Merope hated them.
But today, she convinced herself, today she was going to talk to him.
She stepped out from behind the tree, her old, grey smock snagging on the bushes.
"H-hello, my name's, uh, Merry," she said quickly, remembering, for the first time, her mother's old nickname.
Tom turned around, a sneer marring his features.
"I know who you are," he sneered, "daughter if that tramp! Daddy told me to stay away!"
"But-"
He was already running away.
"Wait!" Merope yelled, "please, wait!"
But he was gone.
Merope stumbled forwards, tripping over a fallen branch and crashing into the ground. Her knees and elbows were ripped and bloody.
She curled up in a ball, crying. Merope didn't move until the next morning.
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