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Go away, Evelyn.
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Kitioma Hadlee
I expect the hospital wing.
I do not expect the tall ceiling of Tom Riddle, the manipulative, son of a bitch himself. A girl can only dream to go one day without getting brutally hurt, but sometimes I don't always get what I want.
"What..." I cough, struggling to sit up. I'm on a bed, not the cold floor this time, but it is hot, way to hot. I'm sweating, yet chills still run through my body.
"Don't sit up," A voice says, and I mentally groan. It's Tom. Of course. "Kiki, I'm serious, don't sit up, you'll hurt yourself more than you already are."
"As if you care," I cough, then pull myself up. But before I can sit all the way up past the dark green covers, a hand pushes me back down.
"Kitioma Hadlee," He says in a low voice. I gulp, then shimmy back down into the covers until only the top of my head is showing. Tom sighs. "Kiki, not that far."
"But you said-"
"Kitioma."
I peek my head out of the covers to see Tom, looking both annoyed and tired. "Sir?"
"When was the last time you ate?"
I cough. Then cough again, clearing the heavy silence that falls into the room. "Uh...last night?"
"You've been asleep for four days," Tom informs.
"How was I supposed to know that?!If it was four days, then obviously, four days ago," I say, poking my head a bit more out of the covers.
"Really, now, because Madame Pomfrey says that your health vitals show that you haven't been eating weeks."
Screw Madame Pomfrey.
I frown, sitting up to where my posture is normal. "That's absurd, of course I've been eating."
Ha. No, I really haven't. And who's fault is that? Your's.
He tilts his head, a small frown playing on his lips. "Kiki, I know you're lying."
I snort. "Sure, Riddle. What do you want me to say, huh? Oh dear, haven't been eating for twelve days, to bad!"
Tom grabs my arm, making me tumble off the bed onto the floor. He quickly drags me up, and my head screams in pain, as does the rest of my body.
Tom sits me on the window seat and his grip leaves my arm as quickly as it came, then goes to the other side of the room and rummages through piles of books, each of them sporting black, worn covers. He pulls out one and turns the pages furiously, to fast, so fast I don't even know how he manages to find what he's looking for.
After seconds of page turning, he slams the book down, making me jump.
I realise I'm in one of Gabriela's old sweaters that she let me borrow what feels like ages ago and simple black leggings, something I refuse to wear very often. The outfit is not what I had been wearing when I Sam gave me the necklace.
The necklace!
I reach up to where his fingertip trails still burn, my hands trembling. I don't feel the rough chain, so I can only assume a professor or maybe Madame Pomfrey took it off of my neck.
It still feels like it is searing into my skin, tearing away my flesh and bone. I can still feel Sam's whispers into my ear, something I used to crave, for him to hug me, murmur sweet nothings into my ear, make me feel safe, away from my past, away from this life I used to so desperately want to leave.
Sam, of course, did not know he had that effect on me. Didn't know he could make me forget my past. Didn't know the dark demons that still follow me to this day.
Didn't know how dangerous I am.
A hand touches my wrist and I flinch away. The touch is cold, nothing like Sam's searing heat. Tom.
He is wrapping some sort of rope around my wrist, a dark black rope that looks like a friendship bracelet I used to make during grade school.
"What is this?" I ask.
"A charm. It'll protect you," He answers, still tying the rope around my hand.
"You care?" My words are quiet, soft.
"This is orders from Headmaster Dippet," His words are cold, collected. Robotic. Monotone.
Is he even human?
"Oh," Is all I can return. "Well, what does it do?"
"It's...complicated to explain. It's a curse-"
"A curse?! Excuse you, I just got out of one!"
Tom rolls his eyes and mutters, "Dramatic."
"Hey!"
"It has dark magic, so it's considered a curse. But it helps me get into contact with you if you're dying or something. So now, instead of wandering off and getting burned alive by your psycho ex-"
"You're one to talk," I mutter, and Tom sends me a glare.
"Now, if your heart rate starts dropping, I'll know," He holds up a similar looking bracelet. "I'll know because I'll feel it too."
I frown. "That seems incredibly counter-productive."
"Well I'm not as weak as you and have more...experience, to say the least, in that area of magic, so I'll be able to brush it off like a fly. Besides, I know the charm to turn it off on my side.You, on the other hand, are weak, stupid, idiotic, arrogant-"
"Gee, thanks. You're really a self-esteem booster, aren't you," I mutter, crossing my arms.
"And you need to be protected. Now I do not know why Headmaster Dippet is so keen on keeping a runt like you alive, but I have to or I'll lose my spot as Head Boy. So if you die, I will bring you back just to murder you again."
He seems very literal.
I look him straight into his hazel-y brown eyes. "Sounds fun, when do we start?"
He snorts and shakes his head, standing back up. "Right now, I can tell you need to get your strength up, and no, it's not because of this bracelet. You look horrid. You need to eat."
The mere mention of food makes my stomach lurch, but not in the 'I'm starving' way. More like the 'Oh my God, if I eat something I'm going to be sick' kind of way.
"I'm not hungry at the moment," I say weakly, avoiding anywhere but his eyes.
He kneels down again, but his six-foot frame is much taller than my five-three frame, so he's still looking down at me. I'm sure the messy hair, eye bags, and an acne breakout I'm sure I'm having doesn't help, but he wrenches my chin with his hand, forcing me to look at him. "Hadlee," He says in a dangerously-low voice. "You need to eat before you get yourself killed, like your little boyfriend."
My head spins. "Wait...Sam-"
He suddenly seems to know what he said and quickly tries to repair the mess. "Kitioma, don't think about-"
"Sam is dead?" I hiss, ripping his hand off of my chin after great effort, mustering strength I didn't know I had. He looks down at his hand, surprised, before turning a scowl in my way. "You killed my boyfriend?!"
"He's not your boyfriend, Kiki," Tom mutters, staring me straight in the eye. "He cursed you, do you not remember that?"
"That was a one-time thing that he was going through, I'm sure he didn't mean it-"
"Kitoma," His hands wrapping around both of my wrists, pinning me down like a lion and its prey. "He cursed you. He wanted you dead. You should be glad he's dead. Your life is in less danger now."
"He was my boyfriend!" I yell, a lump growing in my throat, trying to struggle out of his grip. "He gave me hugs, he stayed up with me, I just never noticed what he was going through, I'm sure it was a just a phase, maybe if I had done something, he-"
"Hadlee," Tom growls, but I'm not done.
"It was my fault, I must have not done something, it was me," Tears run down my face, empty tears, tears filled with no emotion, just my body's reaction to his death. "It was me, it was my fault, if I had done something different, he would be alive, I-"
My breath cuts off as Tom is suddenly on top of me, pressing his lips to mine. My tears are still streaming down my cheeks, and I don't know what's real and what's fake anymore. His lips feel warm, his pinetree smell wafting its way into my nose. His hands loosen on my wrists, and he leans back.
What the- I don't even know this kid's favourite colour, why'd he kiss me?!
"What...what was that?" I squeak, looking into his hazel eyes that look so dark, so malicious, so...
So...confused.
"That was me shutting you the fuck up," He mutters, taking his hands off of my wrists. "I don't have my wand, they're fixing it, it was broken in the fight with Sam. What else am I supposed to do? Smother you with a pillow while you're having a breakdown? Let you cry, or shut you up because you're being an annoying bitch?" He shoves me backwards, pushing away from the window and storming out of the room.
I lift a finger up to my lips. The tears have disappeared, or maybe I'm just too numb to feel them anymore.
I don't smile.
My fault.
Annoying.
Idiotic.
Bitch.
I glance at the rope around my hand.
My knees press to my chest, my hands wrap around my legs, and I sob.
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Question: What part of the world are you from? (I'm from the land where we have a cheeto as a president, and btw, if you support him, get tf off of my book, ty)
Update 3 months later: YES, CHEETO IS GONE! PRAISE THE TOAST GODS!