Ab aeterno

The orphanage was a place where all colors died. It seemed that every object, every fabric brought inside its walls became faded and washed out. Tom had a small room of his own. An outsider might have thought it to be a luxury but all the staff and all the children, Tom himself included, knew better. That was a necessity. Nobody wanted to share a room with young mister Riddle. Nobody wanted to sit next to him during meals. Nobody wanted to play with little Tom… because games that little Tom did want to play were not harmless. Tom liked that very much when they were taken on the summer outings to the countryside or to the seaside, leaving the city behind. He enjoyed the trip to their current destination, the changing scenery behind the window, and the air that smelled differently outside the city. Green meadows and pastures with cows and sheep were a treat for the eyes used to buildings and smog. But the best part of any trip to the country were snakes. Snakes would come to him, and hiss, and look with their beautiful unblinking eyes, and, oh, the stories they would tell! Snakes would also do what he wanted them to. Snakes were never afraid to play. “Tell me, Tom. That is important.” “I did nothing, ma'am. You can ask them yourself. They will tell you.” Mrs. Cole tried to look at Tom Riddle the same way she did with all other orphans under her care and found that was impossible. Tom was too calm for a boy summoned to her office like a person who knew exactly that he was safe. Like someone who never doubted he would get away with anything he had done. Again and again, it was impossible to catch Tom doing something bad. And, yet, she knew. She also knew that his victims – it was a strong word to use, yes, but Mrs. Cole couldn’t find a better one since she had seen terror in Amy Benson’s eyes – would never tell. For the same reason none of the maids never told Tom off… they were scared. “How could that be?” she would often ask herself, “He is just a boy! He is not even eleven years old!” And, still, they were scared, children and staff, all of them. And sometimes… when Mrs. Cole would catch Tom’s cold eyes following her… sometimes she was scared too. “If you say so.” Tom was ready for a long interrogation, so the ease with which Mrs. Cole accepted his explanations, was suspiciously surprising. He wanted to ask whether he could go now, but the woman stood up and walked to the window. It wasn’t a long distance to walk, her office was very small and crammed. Tom looked at her back and knew they were not done. “Tom, do you know what “separate education” means?” her voice was very unusual when she asked that question. It sounded friendly and relaxed. “Yes, ma’am, I do. It’s when boys and girls go to different schools… or when they attend different classes in one school. And never meet.” “Mostly, yes. But not always… sometimes separate education simply means that a student studies separately… from all the others,” now she turned back from the window and put her hands on the back of her chair. She had to do that, to grasp for support, even if it was only a chair… she had to do a lot more than that. She had to because of Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop. And all others who wouldn’t tell. “I will have to be frank with you, Tom, for your own good.” Tom looked at her, never blinking, but there was something new about him, something she wasn’t used to seeing in him and, therefore, she didn’t recognise it immediately. “I don’t think that you have many friends here, Tom. You must have noticed that already, you are a very bright boy,” she spoke softly, and now it was her talking. Tom didn’t utter a sound, he was listening to her every word with a wary look of someone who wasn’t so sure anymore he was going the right direction. The praise was left unnoticed. “That is unusual if you ask me. That is not normal.” For a moment Mrs. Cole was so disgusted with herself it was difficult to breathe. You don’t say these things to a ten-year-old. You don’t say these things to anyone! And she had to say that and more.  “You are not normal.” It came out easier than she had expected, and though she felt guilty about saying these words out loud, she also believed in every single one. Tom Riddle was not normal. Tom’s eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Mrs. Cole’s, as though he was trying to find evidence of lying. She wasn’t. He grew pale, paler than usual, and suddenly Mrs. Cole recognised the expression on the boy. He was scared. “Do you know what happens to people who are not normal, Tom? Who are way too different from others?” Mrs. Cole let go of the chair’s back. She didn’t need any support in saying bad things that felt good to say. Hard times demand hard decisions. “They are taken to asylum. So that they can’t hurt themselves… or others.” Tom froze, his eyes wide, and Mrs. Cole suddenly felt dizzy. She felt her thoughts confused, mixed altogether. She felt… violated. As if cold fingers were digging deep in her mind. She didn’t want to but she thought of asylum, the series of images came one after the other. Everything she had heard about asylums, everything she believed them to be, everything she was afraid of about them… Mrs. Cole suddenly felt sick. And then it was over. And then there was terror in Tom Riddle’s eyes. His lips were pale and trembling. “I don’t want… separate education.” his voice was less than a whisper. It was a hiss. “I don’t want that for you either,” Mrs. Cole said. “And I hope that everything is going to be normal around here now… go, Tom.” He left quickly. And when the door closed behind Tom Riddle, she had to sit down.