Ophelia [a.m]

𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖕𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖊𝖘

  Scott couldn't retaliate.

  He was just as helpless as me.

  One never stepped on the toes of a god for they would never be able to reach their throne in the first place.

  I drank myself senseless the day Riddle asked you to go to Hogsmeade with him.

  And when I found out you said yes — when I saw you walking with him in the village with your arms linked together — when I saw you sharing treats — when I saw you two dancing at the Inn — when I saw him wipe the butterbeer off your lips with his thumb — when I saw him kiss you —

  I slept with Olive.

  Dying would be better than this.

  Scott found out, as he was bound to, Riddle didn't just kiss anyone, he was furious.

  When I saw the cuts he'd adorned on your skin, like a thief so carelessly ripping out a canvas, I wanted to hold you.

  I wanted to ask if you were okay.

  I wanted to kill Scott.

  But you were already in another's arms.

  He beat me to it, and now you'd hold onto him.

  Riddle had never been vile to you. Riddle never said anything to hurt you. Never yelled at you. Never made you cry. Never shrugged you off.

  I've done all those.

  Countless times.

  He was manipulating you and you couldn't see it.

  I fell into the deep end.

  The ice crawled over my skin every time I saw the two of you together.

  You weren't dating. Riddle didn't date. But you might as well have been.

  Good morning.

  I ignored you.

  The next game you wore his bloody scarf, his arm slung over your shoulders and he'd smirk at me.

  At night he'd throw comments about you around as if you were a political topic he found intriguing. He'd pick you apart, insult you — call you mudblood.

  When I didn't laugh along with the others I screamed on the floor instead for an hour.

  Good morning.

  I'd walk the other way.

  I caught you kissing him in an empty hallway, you didn't notice. Riddle did. He winked at me as his mouth slid over your neck, sucking and biting and the mewl that parted from your lungs made me feel dizzy.

  I could see his venom sinking into you and I left and I threw up.

  Good morning.

  I showed up to class drunk.

  Swaying on my feet and giggling and you looked concerned and I snarled at you.

  I'd been backed into a corner and I was frightened.

  The sight of you felt like a knife twisting inside my chest and I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted it gone. I wanted that numbness that made people aliens.

  Late one night I was walking the halls aimlessly. My shirt half opened, a cigarette hanging from my lips and a bottle of fire whiskey clutched in one hand.

  And then I saw you and my fangs slipped out.

  Hello-

  Fuck off.

  Excuse me?

  I glared at you. You didn't deserve it. But I'm an idiot.

  I never know when to stop.

  Taking a drag, I pulled the tobacco from my lips and gestured a hand at you, you're seen as a whore, you know that right?

  You smiled and I frowned.

  You don't mean that.

  Yes I do.

  You're drunk.

  Stop being so goddamn kind. It's infuriating.

  I never knew when to stop.

  I may be drunk but not enough to miss the obvious. You're a whore and you let men use you. Clearly not to your benefit considering Scotty marked you up.

  You turned to stone.

  I never knew when to stop.

  Did you not like it rough anymore? Because, let me tell you a secret, I leaned in close, my whiskey stained breath hitting you and my heart lurched when you flinched.

  Tom Riddle isn't a gentle man. You'd be lucky if he didn't toss you off the astronomy tower after he had his way with you, and trust me he will.

  I sighed and took a drink.

  The fox had resurfaced, making itself a home in my bones, grinding them painfully at the joints but never stopping.

  Your pretty blue eyes were tearing up.

  But water had no place in winter. With one touch of the eastern wind it freezes over and life along with it wilts.

  I thought you were a smart girl but fuck, I laughed, you can't see what's right under your nose.

  Abraxas that's enough.

  Riddle may never hit you but trust me he'll leave one hell of a mark when he —

  You slapped me.

  You stormed off, the castle quivering under your feet and the tears that slipped from your cheeks melted through the stone.

  You hated me now.

  That makes it easier.

  Thank you.

  Loathing might crawl through your veins every time you see me.

  Your good mornings will cease.

  But I will have planted the seed of doubt into your pretty head. You'll look at Riddle and second guess.

  You're a bird of prey, darling. The heir of serpents is no match.

  I'm not asking you to come to me when you figure out the truth.

  I'm asking you to run away. Get as far away from me as you can and take off, spread your wings and never look back.

  Live your life and forget the men who never knew how to handle you properly.

  Because I don't want you drowning when you realize how truly mental your Hamlet is.