Number Three – Stitches
Once I thought I knew the meaning of true pain, what it was like to be held with a blade to your throat for days without food and water. I thought that I'd been truly hurt before.
This… This wasn't pain.
This was torture.
A knife slid over my shoulder teasingly. It hurt, but not like his voice.
"Are you in pain? Do you want me to make you better, Harry?" the voice was low and quiet. Those words struck deeper than any knife would ever be able to reach. I knew that he would never heal me, I could beg for days like I had before and he would just laugh. No, I couldn't put myself back into that position; that would be giving in; giving in to what he wanted.
The knife bit into my shoulder like a rabid dog, and I released a cry of pain.
"Answer me, Harry!" Tom demanded. The knife left my skin and was replaced by a tongue, lapping at my wound. I shivered in disgust.
Or, at least, that was what I told myself.
A light gust of breath rolled over the juncture between my shoulder and neck. I squirmed trying to get away from the ticklish sensation, only to have more breath tickle me in smooth staccato puffs.
"Harry… Why do you resist me so?" he asked me. I bit my lip so I wouldn't make any noise, so I wouldn't respond and tell him that I had to learn to move on. One perfect hand came up to roughly grab my face by the chin. I was forced to look over my shoulder, disturbing the wound and forcing out more flowing, red blood. I couldn't keep a cry from spilling over my lips by biting them this time. I was forced to look into deep crimson eyes.
Maybe that was why he liked my blood so much, maybe he had seen so much blood his eyes had stained the color, maybe the eyes really were the window to the soul… There were so many mysteries and maybes surrounding Tom, they were like vultures.
I'm going to die; Tom's going to kill me. I won't make it out of this alive.
No, his eyes were red, but they didn't spell my death.
"I've moved on… I won't call you my 'Love' ever again, Tom," I said resolutely. Tom frowned, such harsh lines on such an angelic face. Why did I have to make him angry? He was so much more beautiful when he smiled.
"Is that so, love?" Tom asked. His voice was the arctic; the words cut deep and froze everything in their path.
Tom moved away from me, and I let out a sigh of relief. My eyes slid shut, assuming that today's session of torture was finally over.
PLOING
My eyes snapped open and darted to my right.
A knife, not just any knife – the knife he had used to cut my shoulder, was embedded in the wall next to my face.
"I will stand here and watch you bleed!" Tom exclaimed viciously. The tall brunet stalked over like a predator sizing up his prey; Merlin, I hated being prey…
Tom ripped the knife out of the wall like an animal. It was held to my throat and I struggled to not let my neck touch the blade every time I gasped for breath. The knife trailed down my neck to my abdomen. He dug in the knife violently.
"TOM!" I screamed, "STOP, PLEASE STOP!" I begged. Oh, I begged, but Tom wouldn't stop anytime soon.
"You should never say you will leave me! You are mine!" he growled. The knife never removed itself from where it was puncturing me, not until Tom pulled it down slowly towards my hip. I bet he was getting off on this. I was shaking from blood loss at this point. Tom removed the knife from my skin gently, unlike his earlier behavior.
He moved to hold my wrists above my head, holding me up, making sure I wouldn't fall.
"Just say that you love me, Harry. Ginny's a slut that's slept with every man in Hogwarts; I've only slept with you, I've only trusted you, I will only ever love you, my dear Harry." Tom whispered into my ear. I wanted to give in, to tell him that I loved him like no other, but I couldn't. I opted to remain silent.
Tom's amazing eyes narrowed, and then he dropped me like a child tossing a cat from a second story window, expecting it to land on its feet.
But I was no lithe, agile cat; I was a clumsy human who couldn't support his own weight. I fell to my knees before him, like I was bowing to him.
Tom finally walked to the door, away from my sickly body. How much longer would I be able to endure this treatment?
"It's a shame, Potter, that you no longer have anyone to kiss your wounds."
The door slammed, he was gone.
I dared to look at my hip.
Merlin, that was grotesque, I would definitely need stitches lest I die from major blood loss.
I wouldn't risk standing, but I couldn't help but to crawl with travail.
"T-Tom…" I stuttered. I needed that bastards help if I wanted to live. "Tom… Help me… please."
His words just kept repeating in my head.
"It's a shame, Potter, that you no longer have anyone to kiss your wounds."
He wouldn't be coming back to save me anytime soon.
My eyes drifted closed without my permission.
I was dying, wasn't I?
~X~X~X~
He was beautiful. There were no other words for his otherworldly beauty. I sat in my booth at the cafe, a small place not far from my house, when he walked in with that cold wonder about him. Tall, dark, and handsome? That was an understatement. His hair was neat, but somehow managed to enticingly fall into this eyes while staying orderly, he was lithe and tall, and he had the most strikingly red eyes. I had never seen red eyes before.
His eyes were like flames, like roses.
Like blood.
I laughed at the thought; despite his cold beauty, there was no way someone this beautiful could be a murderer.
He turned his cold but fiery eyes to me.
I was drawn in like a moth to a flame.
He walked over and asked if he may sit with me; being at a loss for words – this beauty wanted to talk to me? – I vigorously nodded my head.
"Hello, my name is Tom. Tom Riddle."
"H-Harry Potter," I stutter quietly, staring into his mystical eyes.
I would love to be with this mystery of a man…This mysteriously cold man. You could tell by the look in those fiery red eyes that his heart was cold, frozen over like ice, bitter like a dog's bite, but he was still so beautiful. He could kill me and I would still be enraptured by this striking beauty; I would never sense that pain.
~X~X~X~
My eyes bolted open. That memory always haunted me – the first day I met Tom Marvolo Riddle, the man who seeks to possess me and kill me and love me all at the same time. I fell for this trap, and now I would have to get myself out of his snare before I died, I already felt like I was going under, soon, I would be out of time. I just… I need to stop longing for him, I need to move on. I could tell him that I had moved on, that I hated him, but he knew better; he still had me roped up like a hog about to be slaughtered.
I knew Tom, he didn't really love me; he would rather I died by his hand than watch me even think of another. Wasn't the saying 'If something is truly yours it will come back even when you let it go'? Or, at least, something of that nature? Tom would want to watch me bleed until I died, would watch me fall on my knees and slowly gasp for my final breaths than see me love someone that wasn't him. But he didn't understand; I couldn't love another, couldn't think of another, not when I loved Tom as much as I did.
I have to get him out of my head; I'll end up dead otherwise.
The door's lock clicked, it was a deafening sound in my ears. Tom had come back hadn't he?
He stalked in, as usual there was a knife dancing between his long, beautiful fingers.
Why was he so perfect?
The knife wasted no time with sweet, teasing foreplay and went straight to my wrist. It plunged deep like a nail pinning someone to a cross. Maybe I would be crucified…
"Harry… Don't you love me?" he asked with a sad face. "Harry… You need to answer me today. Today is the day I'm going to kill you." A tear trailed down Tom's cheek… Was he serious? Tom didn't cry… What was going on?
The knife, which I had forgotten when I saw Tom's tears, pulled out of my wrist, allowing the blood to flow like rivers down my arm that remained upheld by chains. More tears streaked down Tom's face.
'Don't cry, Tom.' I wanted to say as I wiped off his tears, but I couldn't. I wouldn't! Tom thrust the knife into my other wrist. Merlin… He was going to kill me this time. I whimpered, but didn't say anything.
"Baby, please…" he begged to me; Tom shouldn't beg it's below him. Why is he begging me, he's the one thrusting knives into me! I look him in the eye with unshed tears. He takes out the knife; I can see red spots dancing around my vision like bull fighters now.
Tom reaches up and takes off my chains, I slump to floor, and I hear something like 'You shouldn't die chained up and restricted… You were always meant to be free…' I smiled weakly.
Yes, I could definitely feel it now, I was dying. I look him in the eyes and whisper to myself more than to him.
"I… Love you, Tom… Kiss me?" I never thought my last words would be used begging to be kissed by my killer. Tom was sobbing now, but he still bent down to kiss me. Blood was pooling in my mouth, and I was sure it was running down my cheek, definitely smearing on Tom's lips.
He pulls away from me, blood is all over his plump lips and licking at his cheeks, his clear tears turned a strange pink as they passed his lips, and his entire face was flushed.
I weakly moved my hand to caress his face as well as I could with the severed nerves of my wrist.
"Who needs stitches, if they could have your kiss?"
~X~X~X~
~X~X~X~
A/N: Reviews? Come on, I don't write so bad that I don't get any reviews or anything, right? I just won't give you guys virtual cookies I guess.
No, I love you, come back.
(Sorry for being desperate!)
~Nylffn