Victoria Smith

The First Chapter

That, that grey day in the hallway of Wool's orphanage, was the first time I met Victoria Smith, the girl two years my junior who had been given to the orphanage along with a large bribe. The girl who was not allowed her name - even my own mother had given me mine, with her dying breath, they told me.

I made it my duty to figure out what was wrong with the girl, her parents were evidently desperate to be rid of her. She must be rude or naughty, stupid or even evil - a thing of the devil. She was warned against me, I heard, by the girls in her dorm Amy and Martha, girls my age, they said I was weird and left me out of their games, thought she ought to know that too. I knew those girls were just frightened of me. I prefered it that way.

But Victoria was different. After that first day the other girls stopped including her like she was their dearest friend and she was as alone as I was. I never spoke to her, and she was wary of me though never unkind, she was smart too, she could write her name and say the alphabet and she knew some very strange stories. I heard her telling Amy a story about a character called Babbitt rabbity and Amy had laughed at her and called her a freak. Then they began to be outright cruel. My list of things wrong with her had shrunk rapidly to just 'odd' and that was hardly a reason to give up a little girl, was it?

Victoria smith was a smart little girl, and she figured out very quickly that if she sat near me the others wouldn't pick on her. My child's mind saw her as being very weak - the children were mean to me too and I made them pay for it - but she was not special like I was, she was just very strange. She asked questions during church, the whole Orphanage were taken to church every sunday morning and the first service Victoria had attended she had raised her hand to ask the priest a question like we were in class. The others had laughed at her.

But she would still sit by me, to stop them coming near her - becasue they were firghtened of me, even the older children, for two years every lesson and every meal saw Victoria Smith sitting next to me, Tom Riddle. I found her presence calming in that time, something constant, though I never spoke to her I felt less lonely when she would sit by me, I would worry when she was absent, she grew sick often and missed many lunches and lessons. I assumed it was because she was so weak, that she would get sick.

After those first two years she spoke to me, one day, another grey day in Wool's orphanage, as unremarkable as every other day I'd spent there for my whole life. She offered me the remaining half of her lunch. To this day I don't know if she just didn't want to waste the food or if she too could hear the persistent grumbles my stomach was making at the inadequate portions.

That night, before bed time Mrs Cole gathered all 42 children in the main hall for an important meeting. This meeting wasn't a treat, and I knew Victoria wasn't there because my quiet companion was not near me. It gave me a feeling so horrible the word worry didn't begin to cover it - dread, maybe.

"Everyone here knows Victoria Smith?" Mrs Cole had begun and I found myself nodding along with the others. She continued. "Victoria's been a bit sick these past few weeks -" I knew this was a lie because she'd been unwell for months, "and we found out today she will not get any better."

I frowned, the other children all insisted on asking questions, I even heard Amy shout 'will she die?' Which was preposterous, she was sick, weak, she had always been like that and I was sure she would get better, or at least not get worse.

What did get worse was how the other children treated the weak girl, like she was diseased - they never said what was wrong with her but it was safe to assume if it was dangerously contagous Victoria wouln't be allowed to continue on around the other children. They avoided her, refused to touch her, they were still mean, they threw things, tripped her up, played run away and laughed at her.

It made me angry, to see the injustice done to the weak girl. It was a grey Tuesday that I first spoke to her. She was six, and I had just turned eight. Her hair was black and thick her eyes heavily lidded and her cheekbones high. She had blue eyes, peircingly so and high cheekbones, hidden somewhat by the baby-fat a six year old normally carries. She also had a large bruise on her right eye, more bruises up her arms where her grey dress didn't cover the skin.

She couldn't get up the stairs. Not by herself, normally Miss Murdock would help her or ask an older orphan to help but today she was alone. She was about half way up - and that much had cost her three quaters of an hour - when Billy Stubbs knocked her back down. She fell, and even though I darted forwards, pure reflex to catch her, the short fall she took hurt her. She was crying, silently. I looked at Billy, who hadn't seen me and looked frightened by my helping Victoria. Billy left and I picked up Victoria and helped her up the stairs.

"Thank you Tom." She said meekly through her tears.

"You're welcome." I replied, becasue it was the normal reply. I went to let go of her but something stayed my hand. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. Rubbing her elbow. "Just sore. I fall lots."

"Well look at you two getting along!" Mrs Ackerman - the cook - exclaimed seeing us together in the hall. Victoria's cheeks coloured a light pink and she looked to the gound. "Are you okay Victoria dear? Did Tom help you up the stairs?"

I expected Victoria to tell the cook about Billy Stubbs, he pushed her, after all but she just nodded.

"Tom helped me." She said and the cook beamed at me - unnerving, becasue it was rare a smile was ever directed my way.

"Good boy Tom!" Mrs Ackerman praised me, "Such a lovely gentleman."

"But Billy-" I made to say, and Victoria tugged on my sleeve, shaking her head, the cook, so caught up in my helping the little girl didn't notice.

"If I tell, they get worse." Victoria said in a voice that was begging me to keep this a secret. I nodded, on the outside, but on the inside I was furious.

It was after dinner that caught me two paces from Billy Stubs on the stairs, it was an easy thing to reach out and shove him without using my hands. A push on his front and a pull on his legs found him falling backwards, I stepped out of the way and he tumbled a little ways before another orphan caught him and righted him.

"You pushed me!" Billy accused, catching the attention of Mrs Cole.

"I did not!" I defended myself, "You're clumbsy!"

Billy made forwards as though he was going to hit me, but Mrs Cole caught him.

"To bed, Tom." She told me, dragging Billy away. I went to my room, room 27. I was the only one with a room to himself and opened the window.

We weren't all allowed to have pets, there were pets in the yard though. Billy was fond of the rabbit. He was two years older than me and wouldn't let anyone else near that rabbit, we all called it Billy's rabbit. I was watching the rabbit. As the old clock in the hall chimed midnight I made easy work of climbing from my window to the yard, and I snapped the rabbits neck without lifting a finger, it dies at my feet and made me feel powerful, special, like Billy was finally getting his due.

I didn't like the bodies, not now, so I made the rabbit float behind me back into the Orphanage, and in the meal hall from the rafters I hung the rabbit to show Billy what would happen to him next time he shoved Victoria Smith down the stairs.