Prologue
So bitter sweet is the intention to destroy something that you so almost cherish.
Yet here I sit, plotting her demise, imagining the paralysing and strained sobs that would blight my ears and stigmatise my churning gut. The dagger lined against her caged heart, still beating; but not for much longer.
Teardrops would sparkle on her eyelashes as she looked at me, realising what it had all brought us to in the end. Lured by charm, lulled by false promises and torn by fake emotions.
Raw pleads humming against my palm as I steady her head against the grass. The futile pleads of another victim, just another sacrificial lamb, just another Horcrux.
A prophet spoke of a boy who would be born and end my reign of power, it took a handsome amount of money and an unbreakable vow that she shall not be harmed and her identity would remain anonymous to have her confess it.
So, if what she claims is to be true then seven Horcruxes just shan't be enough.
Creating the first one was my most favoured one, a diary, a memory of me scrawled between pages. Free to roam immortality eternally, an essence of myself that would exist in another realm, a true copy of myself; bound in to binding.
And I'd whisper to her exactly why I was about to murder her. I'd explain that my mother was a whore and my father worse, a filthy muggle. But with the blood of Salazar coursing through my veins.. my effort to restore this world to what it always should of been will prevail.
I will do the most un-pure things to rebirth purity and be hailed as a king amongst the people who will serve and follow me. She might of even had a chance to convince me and join the ranks, if she hadn't been so persistent in delving in to my intentions and most madden and gall of all, my mind.
She'd weep as she begged me to stop, beg me to truly love her back.
That's when I'd press the sharp point of the breast pin brooch in to her fingertip slowly as it struggled against the very item that shall conceal a fragment of my soul; her wrists trapped beneath the restraint of my knees.
I'd twist the pin until it bled and a Scarlett drop of her life source seeped from the puncture wound. Then I'd drag it across the delicate lines that create her unique fingerprint, following them around like a road map to delicious insanity.
Indulging in little more than sanctimonious trivialities.
My greedy intent carved on my face as it smiled through the brown curls that hung down, shading my expression ever so slightly. Hers plastered with terror and betrayal.
It might even be slightly erotic to finally kill someone I've been carelessly fucking whilst imagining doing so in my head. All that fucking, all that twisting, manipulating, brainwashing. Just to kill her.
It creates a static beneath my scalp that crawls down my back just thinking about it.
I knew it would have to be her the very second our gazes first met across the dark and barren walkways of Knockturn alley. Precious little doll, lost and searching for the safety and refuge of her intended destination.
That was when I knew that was the soul I wanted to corrupt and take to be able to split my own.
She'd think me cruel and in the next breath endearing as I twisted her mind in to knots, for months. Cruelly and coldly destroying her from the inside out until she was weak enough to tear in to completely.
I might push the blade in to her chest slowly just to hear the edge of her sternum crack as I forced my full body weight in to piercing her heart. Splitting the beating muscle of her atriums. Feeling the blade getting warmer in my hand as it absorbed her body heat until it fell cold again.
Her eyes would roll lazily backwards in to her skull as her mortality diminished and the once vibrant Rose became nothing but a mottled cadaver. Just a skeletal shell of what used to be. Shallow flesh and bone.
Every thing that had ever been felt, learned, yearned for, despised. All crumbled to dust inside the body of a dead girl that will never feel, learn, yearn or despise ever again.
The salted tears that had stained her cheeks carrying every memory she had ever made, all dried up and evaporated. And her body might twitch and jerk involuntarily as I withdrew the blade gradually and without hurry, to fully appreciate and enjoy the sensation; the last signs of any primal life released before her frame relaxed in to the soil and grass.
That's how I imagine the beautiful and gracious death of my precious little doll, almost daily, obsessively. Of course I just need to gain her trust first, before I shatter it.
There might perhaps, be no greater honour than to pick the petals from a rose before you snap the stalk. It would certainly be far more satisfying than murdering Myrtle or my father back when I was still so young.
But now that I have left the pitiful and woeful Hogwarts behind and secured a working position in Borgin and Burkes, the very same place that she first walked by and spoke to me with fear in her voice, as I stood outside to observe the coming and goings of the underworld whilst waiting on a delivery, I'm fairly confident this shall be an absolute breeze.
I do hope that she made her first day at Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment on time.
There's nothing more pestilent and vexing than someone who doesn't arrive on time.
But she'll be on time the day that she will die, I'll make it agreeable and so alluring that she won't be able to resist running in to my trap the very second the clock strikes firm. Like a mouse to a mousetrap, I'll snap down swiftly the very second she takes the bait.
That's the plan. So now all that's left is to execute it, leading right to the execution itself.
TW:
Murder
Manipulation
Prejudiced Views
Brainwashing
Emotional, mental and (light) physical abuse
Weapons
Disturbing inner monologue
Stalking
Forced Restraint
Terrorist inspired proclivity
Psychopathy/Sociopathy/Narcissism
Knives
Love bombing/Gaslighting
Plot does not follow canon storyline and is post Hogwarts.
Plot is mine, JKRat owns Tom Riddle and any other canon characters that may potentially show up.
This is not an X reader.
Also I can't decide which POV to write it from.
I'm using my right to creative freedom to create a dark and disturbing story without actively condoning, encouraging or excusing any of the behaviours in this fic. It is simply just a narrative that the story follows because that's the point of fiction. It isn't real.
So don't square up in the comments if this story doesn't suit your preferences because quite honestly I'm past giving a fuck at this point.
I write dark fuckery 90% of the time so if you're not here for that, then you've come to the wrong place.
I'll just block you without even entertaining a response.
Other than that please do like, share, comment.. All that cool stuff. :)
- Miss Loveless.