A/N: Just a lil' helpful info.
"Regular Speech" - "RAISED VOICE" - Character Thoughts -"Parseltongue"
ENJOY FxCkEr
(p.s - did not edit this; will at some point. Maybe)
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Sardonic Savior
Chapter One
Tom Riddle
The boy blinked the sleep slowly from his eyes; his gaze staring up into the chipped and molded ceiling of Wool's Orphanage. He could at this point in his stay accurately give verbal detailed relay to a blind man on where every stain and blemish upon the ceiling was located and give the sightless man a perfect image within their mind.
He had been at this Orphanage since he was born; namely since his mother had stumbled into the orphanage's doors pregnant with him inside her womb and gave birth to his future infant self as her life was forfeit in exchange. She had her last request fulfilled before her final breath; the naming of her lonesome son.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
He knew nothing of his father apart from being named after the man; and from what he had gathered over his younger stay at this tarnished place; the matrons told him enough to know his mother was neither a beauty nor a woman of strength. And despite the slightly snide remarks the woman had gained over the years of his stay, an attempt of the matrons' to show their seeding dislike for him by bad-mouthing his mother, he felt inclined to believe them. After all, if she had been anything but what they gossiped about then she would be raising him currently along with his father in a respectable place of housing unlike his current living residence.
It was with this disapproving mind-set toward his mother that led Tom to be immune to the childishly mean remarks the other orphans within Wool-Side shot at him when he or they passed by one another.
It hadn't always been this way though, granted Tom never had any friends per-say, he did have a small handful of other children his age when he was 8 that would offer to play and hangout around him. The cause of the steady change in lack of company was something that bothered Tom to the same extent it would bother anyone to step upon an ant. However that simple moment when the others distanced themselves away from him in his young life seemed to have been the starting point for a rock slide which ended with Tom Riddle completely in isolation within the orphanage walls; not that he even minded.
It had all started on a normal Saturday.
The sun was shining over the spring grass that mingled with the dirt that covered the front and backyards of the orphanage. A soft breeze brushed about to keep the air nice and perfectly cool for those who decided to spend their weekend morning with a stroll. And like on any other normal day for those at Wool-Side Orphanage, the children were allowed to go play after breakfast for an hour and a half before home-schooling session was to begin by 9 am sharp.
Tom had awoken that day to the annoying nudges of Daniel Johnson, a sandy haired boy with big brown eyes, a light shy smile and tan skin; a boy who would later on that very year be adopted into the mental ward at Saint Mary's Hospital. The two boys were by no means close apart from their shared room and age. Tom held not even a faint liking for the boy apart from Daniel's only good trait that Tom found to be faintly noteworthy and that was the boy's keen knowledge on when to be silent.
Unless it came to Margaret Roodle or in two years time Margaret Mowell by the family that took her in as their own daughter. She was Daniel's crush and somewhat of an oddity to Tom. The girl was very plain. From her slightly shaggy hair, to her nail-bitten fingers and the way she rolled down her socks to just over her pale ankles. She seemed so utterly dull and draft that at one point in time Tom thought it must have been a façade and he had made it his mission to see what the girl kept hidden. It was for not though as the girl was just as she seemed. He wasn't sure what Daniel saw in the meek girl but as long as the boy didn't persist on the matter while in their shared room Tom had no pressing quarrels.
So it was rather unfortunate when a few days later at dinner on Tuesday the boy's crush took another leap after Margaret had offered to give Daniel her pudding. Tom hadn't been aware that there were so many different ways to retell a single insignificant event until that straining night when the other boy wouldn't desist about the shared pudding. It was just so trivial to him he couldn't fathom the reasoning for the boy to go on about it.
And the boy's voice was progressively grating on Tom's nerves by the following weekend.
Daniel's quiet moments in their shared room were steadily exchanged for excited murmurs, humming and Tom's most least favored; thoughtless pacing back and forth. Of course he had asked, then demanded, the boy to stop and to a point the other listened with a trailed apology. However after another cherished moment with the Margaret girl that consisted of being paired up with her to take care of one of the matron's rabbits that Sunday afternoon Tom's dwindling patience with the boy finally reached its limit.
The other children that lingered around Tom during that week had steadily noticed the shift in the dark haired boy but their young age prevented their minds from noting if the change was a good or bad one. People say children are more in tune when it comes to sensing things of the negative nature but far as few could tell, that only extended to adults and not other children of the same age group.
So when Sunday night was shifting into Monday early morning Tom could no longer submerge his need to put Daniel in his place and ultimately shut the boy's ravings about the girl into silence. The plan was headily simple; destroy whatever likings Margaret Roodle had for Daniel Johnson. And the quickest way to such a goal was to use the most recent event that paired the two together and make a memorable event of tragedy rather than adoration for the two.
Tom bid his time, greeting the sandy haired boy with a stiff smile and offering the other to join in a walk down stairs to the food hall. Daniel had no ideas or even a notice of Tom's change in behavior for it wouldn't do to let the other boy know just how displeased Tom had become with them. Revenge was best planned in silence after all.
The two boys conversed shallowly, Daniel doing most of the talking, as they ate their breakfast of cool oatmeal and dim water. They were soon joined by Tom's target Margaret who seated herself across from them with a soft greeting to Tom and a light blushed hello to Daniel. The latter of which nearly choked on his water in his lungs haste to return the greeting, making his face flush red and Margaret to giggle and Tom to simply narrow brown eyes faintly in annoyance. Margaret gushed about a story one of the matron's told her when they walked her and Bethany, a new girl that was lodged into the orphanage apparently on Monday without Tom's notice, to the food hall. The tale consisted of some romantic nonsense Tom couldn't be bothered to attempt to dissect and from the utterly attentive look on Daniel's face as his crush spoke the boy didn't have much care for the story as the simple fact Margaret was talking to him.
Tom looked away from the two with hidden disgust. His gaze roamed over the food hall picking out each adult and mentally going over their known routine that Tom had steadily picked up upon over the years. None of the current adults were the one he was keeping an eye out for. wasn't easily missed despite her dull brown hair pulled up into a tight bun upon her head or the common uniform worn by her and the other matrons; so Tom instantly knew she wasn't within the food hall. It wasn't until breakfast was nearly over that he spotted Ms. Hemy, the one who owned the rabbit that Daniel and Margaret would look after during the animal's occasional visits to the orphanage. He silently followed her, be it with his eyes or muted steps, waiting for the perfect opening to commence his plan.
Tom looked down at the bloodied rabbit at his feet with an expressionless face. It's legs were extended, looking rather floppy like its crimson ears. Tom couldn't help but wonder why they were so loose when normally the rabbit's legs were always taunt and tucked close to its body; more so when it wasn't hopping around the yard when Margaret or the other kids chased it around as a form of play.
Crouching down, he peered more closely at its legs. He brought his bloodied fingers to brush against the left leg and blinked when it didn't twitch and tuck into place. After a quick moment of realization, he silently berated himself when he remembered the creature was dead. Of course it wouldn't move. Feeling a bit miffed that even a dead animal could bring about his more child-zoned mentality into play against his own will, Tom picked the rabbit up by its feet and shook it; bouncing it up and down and watching with a growing fascination as the back limbs finally did that tucking and extending leg motion he'd seen the rabbit do countless time before. He raised his other hand and squeezed a small furry shin and thigh; the rabbit's foot flexed slightly. And Tom felt a thick strand of muscle under his fingertips shift every time he squeezed. His mind filtered up a single word. Tendon.
Having his curiosity fulfilled Tom tied up the rabbit with the string he had cut off from a yo-yo he had taken from Bishop when the boy had flaunted the new toy around even a week after his birthday when it was gifted to him.
Getting the rabbit's lumpy corpse up into the air high enough to sling over a rafter was proving to be rather time consuming and Tom wasn't sure how just much time had been wasted so far on the simple action but by the seventh or so try the rabbit's dead weight finally worked in his favor when it slumped over the other edge of the rafter rather then down slipping the side closest to Tom and then plopping down to the floor. Tom quickly wound the string around the section that hung a bit between the corpse and the rafter beam by walking in a full circle a few times. He tied off the end in a simple hoop, so the weight of the rabbit kept the string taut and connected to the rafter without having to be tied down to a surface.
Tom looked over his work with a foreign swell of something in his chest that made the corners of his lips upturn into a smile. His eyes trailed over the dead creature, following the droplets of blood to the floor where a few had already stained the clean flooring. A faint frown took over Tom's smile when he noticed the bloodied footprints; his footprints to be exact. He sent a quick glance around the floor of the room and noticed he had stepped into the small puddle of blood when he had moved to tie up the small animal.
With a slightly displeased hiss to himself; he quickly cleared off the bottoms of his shoes and then rather unwillingly sank down to his hands and knees to clear up his crimson tracks. Once all traces of him were gone from the food hall he swiftly left to the small joint room where the kitchen and a back exit was located. Tom swiftly washed off his hands in the big sink making sure to really scrub off any crimson or extra flesh that coated his hands. As he was about to turn off the water a glint of silver spark in the corner of his eye, catching his attention.
A slender slicing knife with a wooden handle of 4 to 5 inches and a steel blade of around 6 to 7 inches lay resting oddly on the edge of a cutting board. Tom glanced to the door he came through then to the knife that seemed to be basking in the sun's rays from the window on the far upper left. Mulling over the option of taking the blade or not, Tom's mind supplied Bishop's yo-yo, Margaret's hair clip, The head matron's fancy pen and another boy's bouncy ball; all of which were items stored in Tom's closet in an aged box.
He slipped the knife off the board and wrapped it up with a dry rag that was hanging off a nearby shelf as he passed by to the back exit. He carefully made his way around the empty halls and up the stairs to his room where he dropped off the newly required knife and rag. He changed his clothes and folded them up before lifting up his mattress and storing the bloodied clothing there. Without further ado Tom made his way back down the stairs, out a side door and slyly returned to the other children playing in the back yard without anyone taking notice of his leave nor reentry.
That afternoon a little before lunch was to be prepped Tom's plan was fulfilled.
Margaret had come up to Daniel, who was seated beside Tom flipping through one of the books Tom had brought down earlier to reach through, and asked if he had seen the rabbit. Daniel had smiled that annoyingly pleasing smile whenever Margaret was around and answered with a positive. Unknowingly Daniel's answer surprised Tom but also made his plans all the more unlikely to be traced back to him. Who was he to correct one's own self made downfall?
Tom kept his eyes upon the text within the dictionary book he was currently paging through as the two talked to one another on where the rabbit could be. He listened to Daniel's voice offer to take Margaret to where he had the rabbit last; which ended up being in the open hallway just beside the door that connected to the hallway that led to the food hall, much to Tom's inner pleasure. As the two moved toward the entrance a small smile formed on Tom's lips as his eyes bore into the black text of a single word.
Tendon.