Chapter Text
Sitting on his bedroom floor in his rose-red silk nightclothes was Riddle Rosehearts, holding himself as he rocked back and forth in his place. His mind was dizzyingly spinning with thoughts about events that had taken place earlier in the evening. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. How could he let things come to this? Choking back his long-suppressed tears, he glanced over to the slightly ajar door into his washroom. Sitting on the edge of the sink was a long, silver razor blade. With a gulp of hesitation, he stood and made his way over to the white marble sink.
The redhead took the blade into his pale, shaky hands and rolled the red silk sleeve of his nightshirt. With a few words and thoughts muttered under his breath, he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the blade against his wrist. With pain searing through him, he dropped the blade at once and quickly went to turn on the sink. His breathing quickened as he watched his own crimson blood trickle down the side of the sink and into the drain.
Had he really just done that? What would happen if someone were to find out? No, perish the thought. He could keep this hidden. After he had calmed his breathing a bit more, he glanced down to the abandoned blade on his tiled floor. In a moment of debate, he went to pick it up once again. He had done it once… surely he could do it again, now that he knew how it felt. With the same anxious motion as before, he slid the blade across his forearm. He only let out a tiny wince of pain this time. Hm… it was getting much easier the more he continued.
Soon enough, he began to feel relaxed. This wasn’t so bad. It felt almost good. It felt as if with every wound he began to inflict, the more his problems would melt away. Why hadn’t he tried this sooner? This was a relief.
Riddle’s situation, he decided hours later, was not a relief. He was filled with anxiety and regret. It felt nice in the moment, but what was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t ask his mother for help. She was a doctor, sure, but how would she react knowing her perfect son had mutilated his precious skin? This was a violation of but every rule he had grown up knowing. Besides, she was the reason he was in this situation in the first place. He just had to let the mention of his overblot slip. His mother was absolutely livid. After all, that wasn’t a part of his delicately-planned life. If anything, it was simply a harsh reminder that he had a lot of work to do. It was a reminder that he was far from perfect and far from his mother’s standards. He was sloppy. He was under-trained. Because of this, he now had to endure magic training for the entire duration of his winter break. Normally, he wouldn't mind this. After all, it was to be expected. It was that he was called weak that struck him deeply.
How had he let himself become weak? He was stupid. He was soft. He didn’t work hard enough. Being top of his year and a sophomore housewarden wasn’t nearly enough. He had to push himself further. He needed to make his mother love him again. He had to be better.
Riddle sighed deeply as he threw himself backwards on his white, feathered pillows. He curled himself into a tight ball of protection, nuzzling his face into his pillow. He had to do better than this. It was only a matter of figuring out how.
The morning returned quickly, the golden rays of sun peeking through the window. The housewarden blinked the sun from his blue-grey eyes and let out a soft yawn. His red hair was askew across his pillow from his restless thrashing about the night before. As he had been every night over the course of the past few months, he had a series of nightmares keeping him from resting. He wasn’t phased by them much anymore.
After a few moments, he sat up in his bed and made his way to his wardrobe to get himself ready for the day. With a glance at his clock, he realised how late in the morning it was. Why would his mother let him sleep in this late…? It was nearly 11:00 in the morning. With an off feeling, he made his way out of his room and downstairs where he would’ve expected his mother to be. He grew increasingly more worried when his mother wasn’t there, but there were several bags sitting by the door. There was a note left on the table on a pink post-it note. With an anxious gulp, Riddle picked it up and read it.
Dearest Riddle,
After much careful thought and deliberation, I have come to the decision that I can no longer have you around. I have nourished you and poured my very heart and soul into shaping you into the perfect child, but you have taken it all for granted. You have tarnished the name of our family. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of packing some of your essentials away for you, and I expect you to be gone before I get home this evening. You are no child of mine. I hope you have the time to sit and think about what an impact your careless nature has on myself. You never think about how your actions impact the people around you. You are selfish, you are disgusting, your magic is sloppy, and I simply cannot have you damage the reputation of the Rosehearts family name any longer. You disappoint me more than I think you will ever know. That being said, your future is in your hands now, as you have wanted from the very beginning. Do not come crawling back to me when your life ends in shambles.
Best wishes,
Formerly your mother