WHEN TOM CAME back from a meeting, Alex was in the garden, smoking a cigarette. Tom frowned at the smell. "Will you ever quit that?"
The young boy didn't turn around. "No."
Tom rolled his eyes and sat down on a bench, legs on top of each other and arms crossed.
"Can you tell me the story of you and mother?"
The man tensed. "What?"
"I deserve to know." Alex turned around to look at him.
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"Already?" murmured Tom.
Alex didn't reply, taking a drag from the cigarette.
"Fine. Will you stop talking about her if I tell you?"
"Yes."
"Alright. Well, I met your mother in our fifth year," started Tom. "We were partnered up for a potions project. We.. well, we became friends, I suppose. A few years later when we graduated.. I met her family."
Alex stayed quiet, listening with undivided attention.
"She became my girlfriend afterwards. She never knew what I was planning; being a dark lord and all. Then, I got her pregnant. When she found out about my plans, she supported me, but I then realized she'd be in huge danger if she had any contact with me. I took you because I needed an heir and left her. When I vanished, you were given to her."
Alex didn't reply, looking like he was in thought.
"If I didn't have plans on being a dark lord, I might've married her," muttered Tom.
"And she would've been alive."
"She didn't die because of me," said the man with a clenched jaw.
"She did. You know it."
Tom looked into his son's eyes. "No. It wasn't because of me."
"It was. And I hate you for it. I hate you so much."
Staring into those blue eyes made it so much harder for Tom.
Something flashed in the man's eyes. He stood up and pulled his wand out, pointing it at the boy. "Crucio."
Alex didn't move.
Letting the curse hit him, he refused to scream or fall.
He stayed standing with a clenched jaw— even though he felt like he was being stabbed with hundreds of knives repeatedly.
Tom stopped as soon as he realized what he did, looking at his son with widened eyes. "Alex—"
"You didn't want a child," Alex cut him off. "You needed an heir."
Tom didn't reply.
"I wish you were with us on this day eight years ago. I wish the nightmares of watching her death haunted you. I wish you heard her screams at sudden times. I wish you suffered like I do."
"It's been eight years?" asked the man slowly.
"It's been eight years today," Alex said, looking away. "I want an apology from you."
"For what?"
"For everything."
"I'm not giving you an apology, Alex." Tom sneered.
"I won't be your heir if you refuse that."
"You cannot hide from me. And if you do so, it'll be easy to find you."
"Give me an apology," repeated Alex, looking at him again. "I deserve it. All I want is an apology."
"You'll have to wait a long time for that."
"Please," whispered Alex, refusing to let his eyes tear up in front of the man who never understood emotions. "Just one apology."
"Alex, I do not care for you. Just because your mother meant something to me, doesn't mean you do. She's dead. For all I know, you'll be dead too. You're not immortal."
Alex wished he could say that the man wouldn't be immortal for too long, but he kept himself from saying it.
"You're right," said the young boy. "You're very right. Just answer this question: what's wrong with caring for someone?"
"They would be your weakness," replied Tom immediately. "Having a weakness makes you weak."
"You're wrong. Caring for somebody makes you strong. You'd have something to live for."
"Not if they die," scoffed Tom. "You'd have something to die for."
"Your life is all about power. You have nothing to live for, nor something to die for. You're the weakest person I've ever known."
"Look what caring for your mother got you."
It got him pain.
It got him misery.
It got him loneliness.
Alex became quiet, looking into the man's eyes that were so void of emotion to the point Alex almost felt bad for him. But then he realized.. he wish he was like that. If he didn't care for his mother, he would have so much more peace.
He'd stop feeling guilty.
His nightmares would stop.
The screams would stop haunting him.
And all of a sudden, Alex Riddle envied his father.
"Now.. don't you wish you could stop caring?" Tom asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
The young boy remained completely still.
"Answer me, Alex."
"I wish.. I wish I could."
"Exactly," said Tom as if it was obvious. "You cared too much to the point you wish you never did. That's the thing I've been talking about. Caring is a weakness. And strong people don't have weaknesses."