All your stormy words have barely broken,
And you sound like thunder, though you’ve barely spoken.

“WHORE!” The word echoed through her head as she sat in the corner, staring at the man she was supposed to hate. She would say nothing. She wanted to cry, to scream, to shriek, but she couldn’t. She knew she wouldn’t. She never did, and you know why? It was all for him. If it wasn’t for him, she never would have been caught here. But she loved him, even if he didn’t love her back. Unrequited love stinks, she thought, before catching herself. He could see her thoughts; she was so transparent when it came to him. And unrequited love was the sweetest kind, the kind that kept her coming back to him, always crawling back. She dared not open her mouth. He raised his hand to strike her. Thunder sounded. It began to rain.

Oh, it looks like rain tonight,
And thank God, ‘cause a clear sky just wouldn’t feel right.

She sat in the corner, staring at the man who was slumped in his chair, sobbing wildly, roughly, angrily. Her own face was etched with lines from tears, lines he had given her. But tonight she was not crying. The tears could not come. They refused to come. There had been time for crying, time for recovery. She had just chosen to use up those precious saltwater gems too soon. Now there were no more tears.

He’s taken and leaving
But I keep believing,
That he’s gonna come round soon,
(He’ll come round soon, I know)

She was curled up, still in her corner. The man was asleep. Breathing loudly. She could not hear herself above the rhythm of his breath. Oh, how she hated his sleep, for when he slept, he looked so angelic, and she could not bring herself to hate him. She could not hate him, that innocent face. She much preferred the pain of his waking moments. Then, she knew why she was here, even if he didn’t. She fingered the last vial of the precious liquid that she knew she had to use. She could not stand this any longer.

You may be my final match,
‘Cause I chase everything when you play
Throw and I play catch.
Never took much to keep me satisfied,
But all the bullshit you’re feeding me, you miss me
You need me,
This hungry heart will not subside.

He had awoken. She saw his eyelids fluttering just as the rain began to pour harder. Oh, how beautiful he is in the rain, like the grey sky illuminated his soul. It makes him look like the one I fell in love with, she mused. Now all she had to do was await his full awakening. Hopefully the sun wouldn’t come out. She hated the sun. It had no right to be so cheerful when she was so miserable. No, it had no right at all. The rain continued. She watched the individual droplets hit the glass windows, slide down, down, down. Down to the ground, only to disappear, to be taken by the greedy earth. Yes, she liked the earth as well. She rather loved the entire heavens and the earth. But she did not like the sun.

He’s taken and leaving,
But I keep believing
That he’s gonna come round soon
Until I see him again

His eyes opened to the sight of her. She was still sitting in that infernal corner, the everlasting reminder of his failure to serve. His parents no longer wanted anything to do with him, though that was the least of his worries. He just did not understand what was happening, how he had run away with this… this girl that he had not ever noticed before. And if there was one thing he despised, no matter what, it was things he could not understand. Unfortunately for him, she was always such an enigma to him, such a puzzle, one where he could not fit the right pieces together, no matter how hard he tried. He did not realize the truth, that he did not hold the pieces. No, he simply saw the faint suggestion of a puzzle box, but the picture was always distorted. So he did what he always did to puzzles he could not solve: He threw it at the wall, mangled it. Smashed pieces together. But still he could not find the key.

I’m staying, believing,
That it won’t be deceiving
When he’s gonna come round soon.

He hated her more than anything else for not being solvable. No, he hated her because she did not hate him; regardless of the countless times he smashed the pieces. She stared steadily back at him, unabashed in the way she looked at him greedily. He did not know that she had already figured out so much about him, how he hated her, but she would not give up. Rising, she stroked his cheek. When he recoiled, she stepped back, the only indication of hurt registering deep behind her eyes, refusing to acknowledge anything except for subservience. That was the way to his heart, she was sure of it this time.

Well I may seem naïve if I cry as you leave,
Like I’m just one more tortured heart,
These cracks that I show as I’m watching
You go aren’t tearing me apart.

He stood up to leave the room, the house, for something, for anything, an escape from those haunted eyes that followed his progress about the place, that beseeched him not to leave. But he left, striding out of the door, every step another blow to her fragile heart. She ran to him, the rain still hitting her gaunt cheekbones, soaking her, as he stood under an umbrella.

I may seem naïve if I cry as you leave,
Like I’m just one more tortured heart,
These cracks that I show as I’m watching
You go aren’t tearing me apart.

She couldn’t stand herself for it, she never would love or even like herself again for doing this to him routinely, but she could not live with herself if she let him go. She hated herself for being selfish, but she refused to let him leave. She extended one hand, offering him a bottle. He stared at her, cold and uncaring. Drink it, drink it, drink it, she thought, willing him to take the bottle and drink even the smallest sip. She put a gentle finger to her swollen stomach and gazed at him steadily, thin hand still extending the small crystal vial. He reached over, grasped its slender neck, and dropped it, the small shards of glass embedding themselves in her legs, the pink-tinted substance seeping into the ground as the rain continued to do. He left, his shoes crunching on the broken, crystalline shards as she reached for him before turning back inside to sit in the corner again. I might as well die, he’s gone now, she thought. But she had a priority first. Grasping the locket hanging off of her neck, she stumbled off in the direction of London. She had to keep alive for her baby. Perhaps it would look like him.

The angels said I’d smile today,
Well, who needs angels, anyway?

Three months later, Tom Marvolo Riddle was born.