”Don’t you think so, Tommy?”
“C’mon, Thomas, pay attention.”
“Don’t you think dying would be an awfully big adventure?”
“Well, Tone, I’m not dead.”
“But you will be some day.”
Those words left Thomas cold. Even twelve years later. Just a small, fragile, six year old. Of course, he knew one day he had to die. Everyone did, it was a part of living, as ironic as it sounds. But how? When? When he was fourteen? Forty? Natural death? Or maybe a fatal disease.
But not this. He never thought of this. Because he didn’t even understand how one became bewitched and he didn’t understand how dangerous people really were when they weren’t in their right mind. He just didn’t.
Maybe it was because he refused to. Or maybe he hated the idea of someone killing another without their conscious truly guiding them along the way. Of course, he didn’t agree with murder even when your conscious was working, but then you knew what you were doing. You knew the decisions you were making.
But not now. Never now. Because the world is sick, and people are sick, and the things they can do are sick. Or, quite literally, life changing.
Thomas wasn’t nice. He really wasn’t, and he never bothered trying to change that. It was how he was. He had always brushed it off as everyone was just pansies when he spoke the truth, but really he was just rude.
Of course he chooses tonight to be nice.
He was sitting outside the Gryffindor Tower, gazing at the vast amount of space that surrounded him, as he took small drags from the joint he was smoking. A normal night. Coming outdoors to just sit and think were moments he looked forward to. So he was completely off guard when he heard feral growls and whimpers coming from someone crawling in a completely disfigured pattern. They seemed lost.
Maybe he was being nice out of his own benefit. The growling student made Thomas feel uncomfortable, and that in itself almost angered him. He didn’t like feeling uncomfortable, especially now. But then again, the noises coming from the boy weren’t normal. He sounded as if he were being eaten from the inside out.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Thomas muttered, exasperated. Yet interested to see the story behind this one.
He took his sweet time, making his way down and out of the tower. The groaning and growling were louder now, the sound more pronounced. It sounded as if it were ripped out of a cheesy horror film. Yet it still managed to send shivers down Thomas’ spine.
“Hey!” He called, but with no response. The boy didn’t even call for help, just continued to crawl in the irregular fashion and whimper.
“Hey,” he repeated a bit louder, bending down now so that he was around the boy’s height, “you alright?”
Ask a dumb question, get a dumb answer.
That’s what his father had said at least. And Nick had said that once, so the saying had stuck then. But that was the answer he was supposed to get. A moaned out ‘no’ and then he’d get help and go on his merry way.
But tonight was just not his night.
He saw the eyes then. So startlingly blue, yet dark, darker than anything Thomas had witnessed. The pupil white, fear, hatred, and blood lust dripping from the very core of the hissing boy.
“Shit.” Thomas spat, realizing too soon yet too late.
It’d happened fast. Too fast for Thomas’ brain to comprehend, and before he could call for help like he’d originally planned, the boys’ growling ceased, his odd deformed crawling coming to a halt, and he pounced.
Saliva dripped from the boys’ frothing mouth onto Thomas’ face. He tried to call for help, but he was winded from the harsh contact he made with the ground. His eyes bugged out, as he forced air into his lungs, each breath causing a raspy wheezing noise to escape his mouth.
More times where speed won a battle with his brain. Before he was even breathing properly again, a wand was pressed to his jugular.
Many moments passed after that. Moments filled with silent screams, tears, and begging. Just begging for one more day, one more sentence. He knew how he’d use that sentence. He knew damn well, and he let out a dry sob, wishing to see his love one more time, just one more second. One more moment.
He didn’t hear the words leaving his killers lips that left him without a pulse. But he remembers, he remembers trying to scream the name, the name that meant the most to him. No noise came out, but he still called for him, to just see him one more time.
He never got his dying wish. But he did get a last thought.