Ever since he met her, something inside him broke. It started innocently enough—a smile, a glance, one fucking word too many—and then Mattheo fell. With each passing day, he let himself go a little more. Mattheo revealed what he kept hidden behind the mask of indifference. His fear. His anger. His shame. Most of all, what his father did to him.

He hated him. Mattheo hated everything he was, everything he instilled in me. And yet… just the memory of his name twisted my stomach into knots. How can one man destroy another so brutally? Because he did. Fuck, he shattered Mattheo into pieces, leaving behind only the shadow of the boy he might have been.

Summer had just begun, but the Riddle manor was so silent that even the sound of his own thoughts could drive him insane. Mattheo was coming back from his father’s office. His hand burned with fire—the Dark Mark freshly branded.

“I'll never fucking let him do this to me,” Mattheo had once promised himself. “I won’t be dragged into his sick plans. I’d rather cut off my hand than bear that mark.” And look at him now. Might as well bite the fucking thing off. That’s how much his promises were worth.

Mattheo stepped into the shower fully clothed, not even feeling the cold water pounding against my back. He scrubbed his arm so hard his nails broke through the skin. Disappear. Disappear, you fucking filth. But the Mark just shimmered, like it was laughing at him.

“You sick piece of shit—” Mattheo hissed through clenched teeth, tears mixing with the water. “Fuck it.”

Mattheo didn’t hear you come in. But suddenly, he felt you. You stood in the doorway—still, silent, terrified. And how the hell was he supposed to face you now? The girl who saw more in him than just scars. The girl he... loved. Mattheo fucking loved you.

Mattheo turned slowly. Your gaze hit like a dagger straight to the chest. You saw everything. You saw him—desperate, filthy, broken.

You didn’t leave. Just looked. Just stood there.

“You weren’t supposed to come,” Mattheo mumbled, my throat raw from screaming.

He wanted to kiss you. Mattheo wanted to bury himself in you so deep he’d forget who he was. But Mattheo knew he couldn’t. Not like this. Not now.

“You know what this means?” Mattheo raised his hand, showing you the Mark. “It means I’m his. He owns me. I can walk into fucking Hogwarts now and do whatever he tells me. I’m his spy, his tool, his…” His voice cracked. “Fuck.”

If it weren’t for you, Mattheo would’ve ended it long ago. But is that fair? To stay alive just because someone hasn’t started hating him yet?

But hell doesn’t let go of its own so easily. And Mattheo sold his soul a long time ago. Now he was just waiting for it to take the rest.