Chapter 10 - Prisoner

                                    

                                          
TW: TOXICITY, VIOLENCE 
♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.
𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 10
𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖘𝡣𝖓𝖊𝖗 
'Fuck' Was all she could think of. It didn't take two and two to realize that Tom Riddle knew she heard every part of their conversation. And of course, he was not happy about it. Otherwise, she wouldn't be held tightly on the wrist while his leg was between hers, chest to chest, and a wand pressing so hard under her chin it could penetrate right through it.
She couldn't struggle anymore. She wasn't exactly sure if it was the trickling haziness from earlier or the petrification of fear from Tom Riddle that was preventing her from any form of self-defense. All she knew was that the uncomfortable situation she was already in earlier was heightening every ounce of fear in her body. The horrors on her face would not mistake that.
Everything around her turned cold and icy. She held her breath, not wanting to disrupt his face in any possible way when it was this close. She could see every fiber on his pale face. Every feature that could indicate what he was feeling. His eyes were burning yet so cold and dark. It was truly daunting that even this close, she had no idea what he could be thinking.
His face showed nothing. But his presence radiated fury, and that was enough to make her tremble. 
"I warned you, have I not, Hestine? That was only and last instance that I was willing to see pass through." His icy breath made her quiver. The nonchalant tone of his voice was somehow scarier than her mother's angry one. That is saying something.
She was breathing hard now and probably sweating too—she didn't know. She couldn't control how her body was reacting at the moment. It was too struck, too vulnerable, and too scared to amplify any working nerve she could have controlled.
But she could work up one thing. The instance Tom Riddle spoke of goes further than her simple absence from prefect duties. If anything, it was indicating the scene she walked into in the girl's bathroom. But judging by the way he was asking earlier, he was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. Thus, her solution is to deny, deny, deny. 
"Were you mesmerized by the chamber, darling?" He challenged, pressing his wand harder under her throat.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," she slurs, finally feeling the dryness of her throat. The pain was excruciating under her chin. 
"Oh darling, we're still doing that?" He tilts his head causing her to bow hers to avoid the scariness of his expression. 
Bad move. He didn't seem to like it when he used his wand to tilt her head up harshly. She flinches in pain. Her head was pounding harsher, her heart was starting to fail.
"Please, I don't know, I don't!" She struggled, shaking her head. "It hurts, please stop." 
She couldn't feel it, but she was sure she was physically shaking against him and was frightened for dear life. She could scream, but what use would that be? Tom Riddle was smart enough to probably put a silencing charm to the room to prevent anyone from hearing the commotion that went on inside. Other than that, her throat was too dry to even allow her any volume higher than the one she could do at the moment. 
She fell to the floor when Tom finally let go laughing sarcastically to himself. She pressed herself further into the wall—if that was even possible, and was only looking at the floor.