A/N: Don't kill me! I'm doing a triple-update to make up for the three months I've left you all hanging!
J.F.C: Yes, it really does, doesn't it? I think it's rather obvious where I borrowed that scene from, though Mr Cole is far worse than Vernon Dursley. His reasons? You'll find out soon enough... Thank you! I meant to form parallels between Tia and Tom/Amber and Brandon, but I read over my chapter again and realised I made an unintentional connection between Harry Potter and Louise Tate, since they'd both been left on the doorstep of the orphanage as babies :S Weird, the subconscious, isn't it? And I'm planning to do a triple update today, since I'm lagging very far behind my Wattpad version! So see you soon!
Snap!
I sobbed, scrubbing harder at the floor, cleaning my blood before a fresh whip spilled more- a cruel, repetitive cycle.
Snap!
My arms seizured violently before I found control of them again, gripping the scrubber harder and making more of an effort to clear my life-liquid. More tears slid down my already red and raw face, an imprint of a hand burning on my cheek.
Snap!
The whip hit an already split open wound and I cried out before Robert grasped my hair and yanked it. I bit my lip hard, fighting against the shout that was bound to fall from my lips.
Snap!
" Please!" I screamed.
Snap!
" SHUT UP!" He bellowed. " I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU ARE, GOD DAMNIT! I KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND I KNOW WHAT YOU CAN DO! AND I'LL BE BLOODY DAMNED IF YOU DO ANYTHING TO ME!" Robert finished off with a kick to a bucket full of salt.
I screamed as the white, course material found its way into my wounds.
I wouldn't stop.
" I SAID,"
Snap!
" SHUT,"
Snap!
" UP!"
SNAP!
Robert was breathing heavily as he loomed over me and I cried shamelessly, sobs escaping my mouth as if though I were a seven year old child crying for their dead parent. He threw the whip to the side before he crouched to my level.
I lifted my head.
He maintained eye contact with me- and for a second I hoped that he would have a little mercy on me.
He spat on the floor.
" Clean that and your blood." He snarled. I swallowed, casting my face back down on the floor, humiliated at the thought that he'd even spare a second thought on me, let alone pity me. He grabbed my hair- he seemed to have a particularly vindictive pleasure out of pulling my ebony locks- before he threw my head onto the floor. I managed to snap my neck backwards, preventing any facial damage, but Robert didn't seem to like that fact. He slapped me hard around the face, and a ringing arose within my ears. " What do you call me?" He shouted.
I bowed my head.
" Yes, sir." I whispered. He gave me a sneer and turned on his heel before he marched away toward his chair, overseeing me as I cleaned the bloodied mess on the floor, trying not to shake too hard as my trembling hands pulled the scrubber back and forth.
•••
It was approximately noon when Robert had nailed wooden planks on the outside of my window. Had I have been strong enough not to fear his reaction, I would have stared outside sullenly before trying to get someone's attention to the scene going on, but I was too weak to even warrant keeping that thought in my head for longer than five seconds. It seemed hard to believe that I'd started the day at six O' clock today with my punishment before cooking breakfast for everyone with the ill-tempered cook of the orphanage and cleaning the orphanage without the usual help of the others. I was now locked inside the dusty room I had started off with – of which I'd later learned was room 28 (I ignored the voices screaming at me once I heard the room number)- and was forced to watch as light was gradually blocked from my sight.
Eventually, there was only one chink of light left.
Robert's dull blue eyes looked at me through the crack.
That was the last thing I saw before the room was cast into darkness.
•••
" Tom?" Ribbon-girl asked. A quick search in my mind proved that the girl was Louise Tate, one of the children introduced to me the day previous. I bit my lip and ignored her call, as Robert had demanded. He'd told me that if I associated with another orphan, he'd not only hit me, but them also. He seemed to have stopped using the orphans as torture victims, but I was apparently now deemed the whipping boy for his perpetual anger.
" Leave her alone, Louise." A gentle voice advised- Yahya. I could only nod towards him gratefully before the Middle-Eastern orphan lead Louise out of the kitchens, his younger sister hot on his heels as she babbled on about princesses and glass slippers. A sad, bitter smile spread across my lips- oh how I yearned to be Zainab, with a caring, protective and kind older brother to keep me safe from all harm, always cocooned in love and reminded all the time of how much I meant to him. I'd heard him sing to Zainab for her noon-nap; a heart wrenching song in foreign tongue. I'd assumed that he was singing a lullaby from his mother's language, but I'd never heard of it.
I sighed and closed my eyes, feeling the weak English sun against my face: though it had been only an hour since I was shut up in my room with nothing but darkness, it felt good to have some semblance of the outside world in front of me.
I looked down at the sink and took off my rubber gloves- shouldn't they be leather?- and recounted my list of chores. I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to clean the floor of the whole orphanage before I took off my waterproof apron and hung it against the door. I checked the food in the oven briefly before deeming it ready and turned it off, leaving the food inside so that they would be kept warm by the remaining heat.
•••
I'd set the table a mere two hours ago. Everyone had complimented me on my cooking, though Yahya and Zainab had been the last to enter in order to eat (I had prepared the vegetarian option for them also) due to their noon prayer. I was sitting, alone, in my room, encased in darkness. A draft entered through the rickety windows and I heard another squeak behind me.
I'd already gotten used to sharing my room with its previous occupants.
A tentative knock roused me from my thoughts.
" Tom?" It was Louise. I lifted my head.
" What is it that you require of me?" I whispered into the darkness. Louise's hands were shaking.
" I- Mr Cole wants you to go to his office." She stammered. I stood up slowly, my clothes hanging off my thin frame.
I'd only managed to salvage the scraps of my own meals.
" Lead the way, Miss Tate." I rasped. Louise looked uncomfortable.
" Louise. Just Louise. You make me sound like I'm my own mum." She told me. I nodded.
" I apologise, Louise."
" Have you had water? Your voice sounds really dry."
" If you could retrieve me a glass of water I would call you a God send." I said, smiling slightly at Louise. She gave me a hesitant smile back before she turned and walked towards the kitchen, ribbons trailing from her blonde locks. I ran a hand over my face- the only way of which I could identify my appearance.
From touch, I could tell that I had high, curved eyebrows and large eyes. My facial structure seemed to be one of aristocracy, though I doubt that any nobles lived here, in these times.
It was the 1990s- wasn't it?
My nose was raised and high- a celestial peak that seemed to be a less than dominant feature on my face. My lips were thin, but chapped. I supposed it was unfair to say I was ugly just by touch since I was under nourished, but simply by looking at the orphans, of whom had small meals three times a day...
Louise had re-entered the hallway, holding a tumbler of water in her hand. I took it from her gratefully and tilted the cup back, swallowing all of its contents. When I'd finished, I passed the glass to her.
" Thank you, Louise." I said, my voice sounding far better. Louise smiled at the lack of huskiness in my voice.
" You're welcome." She lead me upstairs and I felt a coil of fear in my stomach- tightening with each and every step I took toward the dreaded oak doors of Mr Cole's office.
What is he going to do to me?
Is this about the letters?
" Good luck." Louise said, softly. I nodded- we'd already stopped before the terror inducing doors of his office.
" I will be needing it, Louise." I answered. She reached down and squeezed my hand. I gave her a nod before slipping the appendage out of her grasp.
The doors opened.
Mr Cole was stationed behind his mahogany desk. A bottle of Vodka was open by his side.
I swallowed- the drink was extremely strong.
" S-sir?" I stammered.
His head lifted slowly, his bloodshot, unfocused eyes trained on my own.
A second of silence passed.
" Sit." He waved his hand in front of him, his drunken slur instilling trepidation into me without him even having to stand up. I complied with his command and took a few shaky steps toward the desk and sat down on the stool.
" W-why have I been summoned?" I asked, after a nervous lick of my lips, staring straight into the dull blue eyes of my torturer. Robert sifted through his documents and spread twenty seven copies of the same envelope in front of me.
He didn't say a word.
I didn't either.
Another moment of silence passed between us until he slammed his hands down onto the table, causing me to flinch.
" Tom Marvolo Riddle." He enunciated each name- first, middle and last- with frightening lucidity.
I dreaded to think of what would happen if he was more lucid than he seemed.
" Tom Riddle. Tom." By the time he'd finished, I was clutching on the sides of my stool. " These letters," He gestured at the parchment envelopes with a lazy hand- and a closer inspection revealed that he'd scribbled my name out on every single one.
Why?
" Were all addressed to you and were pushed through every hole in the orphanage. I'd burnt the others, but they'd stopped coming when I replied to the letters. Do they look familiar to you?" He asked.
Why isn't he hurting me?
" I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY, GIRL!" He roared. I flinched- shaking like a leaf in the midst of a hurricane, waiting for the eye to approach. I desperately searched for any memories that came up; I even wished for that critical inner voice to shout at me so that I'd feel a semblance of support.
" N-no, sir." I responded, quietly. Robert stood up and backhanded me across the face.
A ringing suddenly erupted in my right ear.
" BULL! EVERY WORD THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR MOUTH IS BLOODY BULL, RIDDLE, SO YOU'D BETTER TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT THESE," He swept his arm across the desk, tossing up the envelopes before they fell to the ground. " GOD-DAMNED LETTERS!" He slammed his palms down on the desk again and, though I loathed to admit it, tears were already streaming down my face.
" I do not know, sir." My voice was hysterical with a ridiculous amount of terror clenching at me- at my heart, my stomach, my limbs, my throat- I felt paralysed. " Please, I do not know." Robert placed his hands forcefully on my shoulders, digging his blunt nails into my skin. He steered me toward the fireplace and pushed me down on my knees, throwing my head into the fireplace.
The ends of my hair singed as my head jerked forwards and the distinct smell of burning filled the room. Robert chucked the letters into the fireplace.
" I have responded to the letter to get them off our damn backs," He said, suddenly controlled- but not calm. " But I am going to take it a step further. They aren't gonna' to recognise you." A lurch found its way into my stomach.
He knows who I am.
He knows my true identity.
He knows...
Will he tell me who I am?
" Yes." He finally said, a malicious smile spreading across his face. I immediately felt scared- what was he planning next? " Get up, girl." He hissed. I swallowed and jumped up to comply. He smirked at me, twirling my hip-length hair through his large fingers.
Oh God.
What is he going to do?
" Time to get a trim."
•••
I sat before my reflection, staring at the girl in front of me.
Although I was seeing myself for the first time in order to cut my hair, I took my time to analyse the person before me.
My observations by touching my face had been correct- I had a structured face, shaped like that of nobility. My hair was jet black and hung about my face like a ratty curtain. My thin lips were pale, but I had a feeling that they should be darker, and my eyebrows hung over my optics in an elegantly curved arch. My large eyes were framed with long, thick eyelashes, but something felt distinctly wrong when I stared into my eyes.
My brown eyes.
•••
I was shaking.
I was crying.
I silently wept as I held my long locks tightly in my fists, separated from my scalp, my short hair curling around my ears.
In a distinctly male fashion.
•••
I walked past room twenty seven whilst sweeping the floors. I paused- one of Zainab's pretty hairclips had gotten caught up in the dust- before leaning over and picking it up.
Once my gaze lifted, I was met with the room consecutive to my own: the room everyone speculated about.
No one had been in there for fifty years, and its last resident remains a mystery. According to many, the orphan was someone who had terrorised the adults and children alike, but nothing of the child's gender, age, name or appearance was ever given out.
Suddenly intrigued, I leant in for the door handle, my slender, long fingers hovering a millimetre away from the knob, my new, short fringe brushing against my eyebrows.
" WHAT ARE YOU DOING, RIDDLE?!" I jumped ten feet in the air and spun around to face Mr Cole, my back straight in a military fashion.
" N-nothing, sir." I stuttered. A resounding slap to the face echoed across the corridor before I was shoved against the door, my head hitting against the wood.
Hard.
" DON'T YOU LIE TO ME," His speech was already slurring together in my brain, black spots starting to dance in my vision.
Oh Gosh...
My blood sugar...
I was brought back to the present with a kick to the stomach.
" THOUGHT YOU'D DROP OFF ON ME, DID YA'? THOUGHT YOU'D ESCAPE YOUR PUNISHMENT, DID YA', RIDDLE?!" Cole screamed. A punch to my mouth brought on a wave of pain and I tasted blood.
" D-did-" Wheeze. " Nothing." He started to shake me now, vigorous movements of my body that brought my head rolling on my shoulders, teetering on my spinal cord and making my eyes blurry. Once he saw that it only served to make me disorientated to my surroundings, he threw me onto the floor and kicked me in my ribs repeatedly until I felt something snap.
" BLOODY BIT-"
" Stop!" I pleaded, starting to cough up blood. Robert sneered, but did as I said.
" Touch the door again and I'll make sure you regret it." He hissed. I only spat out more blood.
He turned on his heel and left without a single glance backwards at my suffering body.
Needless to say, I'd learnt my lesson that day.
Curiosity killed the cat.
•••
Xavier had revived me with a chocolate bar later that day once he learnt of my condition, explaining that Felix- one of the toddlers- had a similar but not-quite-the-same condition: diabetes. Felix often had to get Yahya or Louise to inject the insulin into him, but he could sometimes have fits like me if he didn't have enough blood sugar.
" You should be good to go, now." Xav said, staring at me. I blushed, ashamed of my new appearance, and looked down.
He tilted my chin up.
" No matter how your hair is cut or how your appearance is modified, you'll always be Tom," He said, softly, as if though he'd read my mind. " You can get a million tattoos and piercings for all I care- you're still you." Flushed with gratitude instead of embarrassment, I looked up hopefully.
" Truly? Do I look bad?" I asked, softly. Xavier brushed a stray curl of hair behind my ear, the short crop of formerly wavy hair having somehow coiled up into soft spirals.
" No." He responded. He led me to the mirror and I looked at the same person before me- that stab of wrongness spreading once again when I caught sight of my eyes- and assessed the girl (no, boy) in the mirror.
The sudden loss of length in my hair should have made me look ridiculous, but the girl in front of me had turned out to look indisputably male- though exceptionally handsome. My previously unflattering features seemed to even out the abundance of glossy hair on my head (which looked less ratty and more, dare I say it, healthy). Those too-sharp cheekbones now appeared high and made me look like a prince out of a fairy tale, my bone structure further supporting the statement. My eyes were large and brown (wrong, wrong, wrong) but they looked complimentary, despite their mundane shade. My nose was straight and led towards my lips- though the way I schooled them made me look more feminine than masculine.
" You're the prettiest boy I've ever seen." Xaver whispered, his hot breath close to my ear. My cheeks reddened and he laughed. " You look cute when you're flustered. I should probably get you a new uniform, though. To match your appearance."
" No. She shall remain wearing the girl's uniform until I say so." Robert cut in. Xavier and I tensed, suddenly cowed by his authoritative figure. He walked between us. " Don't touch her, Xavier." He hissed. " She belongs to me."
I shuddered and wondered why that statement hit so close to home.
Xavier reluctantly let go of my hand once I gave him a calm glance.
" Fine." He said, defeated, before he walked off at the wave of Cole's hand.
Almost immediately after he'd gone, two fists grabbed my collar, slamming me against the wall.
" I'm sure you know what this is about, don't you, girl?" Robert gave me a nasty grin. " Or should I say boy? Good thing I did cut your hair, or else you'll be having more boys chasing after you." The compliment only sounded like acid in my ears. " You will always be mine, do you hear me? Try and make a move toward Xavier or any other boys and I swear, I will do worse than cut your hair."
" Yes sir." I whispered. He let go of me before smirking as he tilted his head.
" Get ready, boy," I flinched. " Someone you should find familiar will be visiting you tomorrow."
•••
Later that day, Yahya, Xavier, Michael and Ashton (the two boys of the four teenagers who were supposed to be gone from the orphanage) carried out large, flat objects covered in white cloth from room 27 (come on... Why does it feel familiar?) and into the room adjacent- the room I had vacated, room 28.
I had felt compelled to ask them why they were carrying out those objects, but Cole stood ominously behind me, preventing me from talking to any of the boys. As far as Michael and Ashton were concerned, however, I was a boy since they weren't aware of my appearance before I'd cut my hair. I had no doubts, however, that news would quickly spread around and that they'd find out.
I surveyed the two boys. Michael looked like a typical thug, with large muscles that looked disproportionate to his short body. He wore a white vest and a pair of denim jeans alongside black trainers, his grey hoodie slung over his shoulder. Ashton, on the other hand, was rail-thin, wearing clothes that hung dangerously off him. Rumours circulating around the orphanage claimed that he was anorexic, but I didn't feel like it was my place to say whether it was true or not.
However, I did feel inclined to believe them since he didn't eat a single piece of the dinner I'd cooked.
" You'll be staying in here, Riddle." Robert informed me with a shark-like smile before he dug his nails into my shoulder. " Enjoy. And we'll see whether you recognise it."
I felt a blow to my gut.
It all made sense.
Why he wouldn't let me in room 27 before...
" Touch the door again and I'll make sure you regret it."
How he knew my name without me telling him...
" Come in, Miss Riddle."
He knew who I was before I lost my memories.
Oh god.
I swallowed, never daring to look the man in his beady, blue eyes.
I felt sick.
He was going to move me into that room for a purpose. He was going to move me in so that the person who was going to visit me tomorrow wouldn't raise any questions about me- so that they would believe me to be the same as that occupant who lived there fifty years ago.
According to many, the orphan was someone who had terrorised the adults and children alike...
He wanted to do it so that the man who visited me tomorrow would hate me.
I shook- both with barely restrained anger and fear.
Just hoping that the man tomorrow would see through whatever facade that Mr Cole had planned out for my fall from grace.
•••
I'd been moved into room 27 after another beating- just to alleviate Robert's frustration at the fact that the pub wouldn't let him drink anymore since he'd drunk too much. My back stung from the constant whipping of his leather belt.
But that wasn't all.
God, no.
He wanted to step it up a notch. Just to see me cry.
I moved slightly and flinched at the pain that the knife wound brought me.
He'd regretted it afterwards, of course. He knew that I would find it harder to do the chores at the efficient speed I'd gleamed from automatic movements that seemed to be drilled into me far beyond my years. I'd been dragged into the room before being told that I'd have to clean the mess I'd made of the wood floor the next day.
Threatened that my life would end if I dared make another sound.
I gave another quiet sob, rocking myself, clutching at my clothes.
Please, whatever is up there. Please make the pain stop.
More tears slipped down my cheeks.
Please.
•••
I awoke to the sun falling on my crusted eyelids, my dark world suddenly red through my closed eyes. I groaned and peeled my eyes open, rubbing at my eyes when I stopped abruptly.
There was no pain in my back anymore.
I sprung to my feet, the only pain being my asleep feet- and even then it was just a small buzz. I stripped myself bare from the waist up without hesitation before staring at my back.
Completely healed.
" Thank you, God." I whispered.
I redressed, pulling my shirt up and pinning my pinafore back together. Just then, the door opened and Louise entered.
" Sorry, I had to tell you. You need to clean your room," Louise handed me a scrubber and a rag. " And then take a shower. Sir will be getting you a new uniform. Oh, and remember to have breakfast." She informed me, hurriedly before scampering out of the room.
I frowned- since when did Louise get so skitterish?
I looked down at the floor. The only indication of me ever being hurt was the crusted blood on the wood panels.
I sighed and pulled out the scrubber.
If I was to have a real breakfast for the first time in what seemed like forever, then I would waste no time delaying it.
•••
I sat down at the dinner table, the cook's temper even worse. I'd seen her cuff Horatio, the little half-Italian boy, around the head for being impatient when he'd been forced to skip out on dinner the previous day due to him having an accident. The poor boy hadn't been trained, but the orphanage staff expected him to be. And to make matters worse, he was an only child- he had no older brother or sister to take care of him and Xavier and Louise couldn't be there all the time. Yahya devoted his time to both Zainab and the shops, being forced to pay Robert unless he wanted his sister to be beaten up.
It was a miracle in itself that he hadn't broken his promise and hurt Zainab anyway- the man consumed enough booze to knock out a gorilla.
A piece of paper was handed to me by a solemn Brandon, his sister Amber clutching to his arm like a lifeline. I noticed a handprint across her face.
I was flabbergasted. Had Robert already retreated to abusing the other children yet again?
But a quick survey of all of the orphans showed that most were 'roughed up' in a similar way- including sweet, innocent Zainab.
Everyone except me.
Oh God...
I bolted from the room, running toward the bathroom. Once I reached it, I threw the door open and retched into the porcelain bowl, acid making itself known as it expelled from my mouth.
Once I'd done, I looked up, trembling, at the open lid.
He'd hit them to make it look like I'd done it.
Now I was starting to shake with rage on the children's behalf. I even felt anger- anger towards that horrid orphan who beat the children up and scared the adults.
It was all that damn orphan's fault.
If it weren't for that child, I wouldn't be suffering.
No one would be suffering.
Limbs trembling, I got up, wiping the residue off my mouth with the back of my hand before storming my way towards the pre-prepared towels and shower in the corner of the room.
It's all that orphan's fault.
•••
My eyebrows, with the careful help of Louise, were filled in as Mr Cole had asked. They were too fine, apparently, and he wanted to make my 'gender' look as convincing as possible. I couldn't understand why he couldn't just send me to wherever it was I was going as a girl, but when I had told Louise this, she'd given me a long look, as if though to ask if I were stupid.
She'd later told me that Mr Cole seemed to have a little too much attention on me- more than I should have, despite his hatred of me- and that he wanted me to be for his eyes only.
I still hadn't understood, but Louise only shook her head in disbelief, muttering about how it was possible for a girl of my age to remain so pure when a girl of nine years of age had been 'corrupted'.
My cheeks were later hollowed out with the help of a powdery substance that appeared to have been brought recently- a foundation, Louise had named it, that was a shade darker than my skin to make my features look sharper. I frowned as she did this in the mirror, reaching out for a tube of some sort of pink viscous liquid before Louise batted my hand away, saying that the 'lip gloss' would defeat the whole purpose of trying to make me appear male.
A good ten minutes later, and a new person looked at me in the mirror- and I wasn't quite sure if I liked the transition.
I couldn't, for the life of me, recognise the handsome boy before me as the girl who'd been here only ten minutes before.
But something else- something huge- nagged at me as I stared at him.
I knew him somewhere. I couldn't quite grasp where; the information was hidden away from my eyes, in a place where not even I could access.
I tilted my head, watching the boy do the same thing.
It was like...
Like he was someone related to me.
•••
I sat down in the bedroom, after packing my 'makeup' away (Louise had told me that Robert wanted me to wear it from now onwards), reading through the papers that had been handed to me during breakfast.
It was a damn script.
The whole lot.
Robert wanted to make me look like that orphan who scared everyone, I was certain of it.
I tilted my head a little- that child made me feel a little curious despite the fact that I despised that person for making me the whipping boy for Mr Cole's pathetic drinking problems. I shuddered as I recalled the way he'd closed the short distance between me and himself when I hadn't known better- only on my second day being in the orphanage.
I should have followed my gut instinct when I first saw the building. Just like Leonardo had said.
I shook my head before I could get onto that road about the mysterious, slightly scary man and cast my eyes back on the paragraph I'd left off in the script.
Some of the things written were downright creepy- even bordering on scary (An example: I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to) - but the mention of magic had me raising more than one eyebrow.
Magic?
Magic didn't exist.
I flipped the page over, the staple holding the eleven page, tiny-print script together.
I reached the end, feeling more than apprehensive once I noticed the red scrawl at the foot of the paper.
Scribbled at the bottom of the page was:
Make one wrong move and I'll make a woman out of you.
A/N: As you've all guessed, I'm raising the age limit to 'M'.
This is a decision I've made due to the amount of violence that will be introduced, language of a vulgar nature and possible sexual themes, of which were foreshadowed prior in the novel with euphemisms to imply such things. If you don't want to read a very dark step into the twisted side of this beautiful earth, then this fic probably isn't for you. There will be molestation and implied rape, but no outright sex scenes (I'm a wimp). In England, the age of consent is sixteen, so if it isn't where you live, then this may be rated as under age/non consensual.
Thank you!
~ Annika