The Dawn of Darkness || T. Riddle

Chapter 12: Cooperation

"I can hardly wait." He replied dryly.

"I don't blame you." She said with a grin before her expression became serious once more. "First things first, I want you to take off the mask when you speak to me in these sessions. I don't want to speak to your façade, I want to speak to you." She said sternly. "You take off your mask and I'll take off mine."

Tom laughed harshly, and not so much as a hint of humour lay behind that cruelly beautiful sound. "And tell me, what do you expect to see if I do?"

"A trace of the person you really are. A trace of the person you used to be."

His jaw visibly tightened as he shifted in his seat. "Whoever I once was – whoever the person you think I still am – is gone. He was weak and foolish, and so I ended him. You can't blame me for that when you've done the exact same thing, Estela."

"That's just what you want people to believe. We're both the same in that sense, Tom, and you know it. But no matter how hard I try to be someone else – someone stronger and wiser – I can't get rid of who I really am. And neither can you."

He grinned in a way that was darkly sinister. "You see that's where you're wrong. Unlike yourself who walks around with her bold new character on her shoulders, a character of strength and power, I don't need a disguise. I am who I am."

"Work with me, Tom!" She snapped impatiently. "You expect me to follow your orders, so I expect you to follow mine."

He didn't blink at he stared her down, those darkly bright eyes filled with anger and reluctance.

"Before we begin, do you agree to drop your act and speak to me truthfully?" She asked him. His nostrils flared as he loosed a long breath and shot one sharp nod in her direction.

She gave out a small laugh. "You know I don't believe that for a second?"

"Then that makes you wise." He replied slickly.

She crossed her arms over her chest and watched him reservedly, the sinister silence of his chambers louder than the silent challenge that strummed in the intensity of their gaze.

"Why am I here?"

Tom rolled his eyes irritably. "I've told you. I want the memory."

"No," she said swiftly, shaking her head. "There's got to be more than that. If you only wanted the memory you would have taken it by now and let me go. There has to be more you want from me. What is it?"

Tom's gaze broke with her own and his eyes fell to the ground. She watched curiously as he handled the black-stoned ring on his finger, twisting it around and around like he did when he was carefully contemplating his next words. She tried her best to remain silent and patiently wait for his answer, but she feared it would not come – and she needed to know why she was here. She knew there was more. But she didn't know what.

As she waited, she thought of Alden's words. He had told her how distracted Tom had become since her arrival – how he was barely able to function when she was around. But if she had that effect on him, why did he want her around?

"So what am I then?" She asked carefully. "Your distraction?"

His gaze shot up to hers quicker than a blinding curse. "You," he said in a strange voice that sounded like water and smoke, like he was speaking to her in a foreign language that was both incomprehensible and familiar. "Are my only hope."

It took her a while to understand the words that slipped off his tongue like smooth, glistening, liquid, but when she did she froze. It wasn't until then that she realised he had spoken to her in Parseltongue.