Disclaimer~ I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N~ This is for the Creepy Quotes Challenge by imdeadsothere, and my quote was 'Shoot me, and if I don't die, keep shooting until I'm dead'. I also had a lot of fun with a new style. Enjoy? :)

~Sight~

On the very edge of the cliff, the pale setting sun outlined Tom Riddle's slender, standing figure. The light turned him into a black silhouette against the empty gray sky; it served to further detail his arrogantly raised chin, his defiantly crossed arms, and his proudly erect posture. Tom Riddle was beautiful; yes, he was much more beautiful than the sprawling landscape that his searching eyes raked over, much more beautiful than the glistening snow-covered hills or the glassy iced-over streams. His hair was darker and sleeker than the impending night; his mind was brighter than the Hogsmead lights that had just begun to flicker so far away. What match was the natural world against him?

In Tom Riddle's long shadow, far away from the ledge's sheer drop, there was a single quivering bundle of layers and scarves and fears; it was a third-year boy. The boy waited and watched, hardly daring to blink until Tom Riddle would allow the silence to shatter, but the silence seemed to press heavier and heavier into his ears every moment- until his eardrums were throbbing and bursting with the absence of sound...but the scared little boy kept waiting, kept watching the delicate wisps of breath dance from Tom Riddle's silhouetted lips. Those delicate wisps made Tom Riddle all. too. human...the intimidating, manipulative, Tom Riddle shouldn't have been able to do something so human as breathe.

But everyone loved Tom Riddle...the little boy shouldn't have ever said a word.

-"Are you ready?" Tom Riddle's calm and coaxing voice erupted into the world and the silence shattered along with the his ear drums.

Why didn't anyone else see it?

Worst of all, why did Tom Riddle see that he saw it?

"I'll take that as a yes." Tom Riddle approached with quick, assured steps- too quick- too assured. The little boy's eyes snapped shut immediately as the sun's silhouetting effect fled Tom Riddle's frame. Tom Riddle's perfect features were still heavily shadowed, yes, but that was still too much to see, because beneath that genial smile...there was manipulation, destruction, hate- but no one else could see...

MinutesPassedBy; but it only seemed like a few heartbeats later until the scared little boy felt Tom Riddle shove an object into his hands- an object that made his skin want to shrivel up and peel away, because he knew what it was. A black loaded gun.

The muggle war invention was too heavy in the shaking hands of the scared little boy. His frail hands weren't meant to hold anything made purely to kill; they weren't yet stained and calloused enough, from years of living and watching and doing, to ever yet touch something as unforgivable as the Killing Curse.

-"..Why?" The scared little boy asked- with his always soft and always trembling voice- but the bitter wind swept his question far away, and Tom Riddle never heard him. Tom Riddle only resumed his position near the cliff edge and his beautiful silhouette depicted arms opened wide with anticipation; his smooth voice was molded by lips spread wide into the mockery of a smile.

-"Shoot me." He demanded and the third-year could almost feel the crazed glint in Tom Riddle's eyes. "Now!" Tom Riddle's order ricocheted through the dead forest and boomed out over the cliff, refusing to be swept away by the howling winds.

The scared little boy stopped thinking- stopped thinking about murder. The courageous little boy thought of the good he was doing for the world. Tom Riddle wasn't human, Couldn'tBeHuman, so it was okay, wasn't it?

The gun was aimed.

His eyes were shut.

He unlatched the safety.

He pulled the trigger.

THE SHOT R A N G!-

-and...

Silence.

Had he done it?

Had the scared.courageous.watchful little boy killed Tom Riddle?

RepulsingRevolting hope rose in his small chest and it forced him to open his eyes, but that hope was swiftly destroyed when he saw Tom Riddle laughing soundlessly, unharmed and impossibly alive. his perfect face was contorted with an ugly maniacal glee that the terror stricken little boy had never once seen on any face before- no matter how beautifully perfect or grotesque.

-"…it worked…" Tom Riddle managed through fits of laughter that soon became too loud. too corrupt. too horrifying. His laughter was a shout at the world.

The little boy's heart sunk into his stomach just as the gun had sunk into the snow.

He hadn't even been aware of dropping the weapon- his only falsehope.

To be quite honest, the scared little boy didn't remember much of anything in the following moments- he just couldn't recall the reason as to why he was convulsing and screaming in the snow- and he couldn't remember when Tom Riddle had ended up towering over him with that ohso perfect smile- and he neverreallyknew how Tom Riddle's un-gloved hand had wrapped itself around his - frost - bitten - throat -

But he did remember, all too clearly, Tom Riddle's following words; words that were colder than the snow that would soon become his coffin.

..."You... you see too much..." -and the hand that was harder than stone released his nearly crushed throat, but the little boy was too horrified to move, to escape, to live.

..."But I! I hear too much, and I hear you saying 'Shoot me…' ", Tom Riddle snatched the gun up from the snow, "…'and if I don't die'…" -and the frozen little boy's ears rang with the sound of the safety lock releasing, but soon Tom Riddle's cruel laughter erased all the other sounds in the world, and the scared little boy would have sworn; sworn on his own soul; that the corrupt sounds dancing from Tom Riddle's lips . s . t . o . p . p . e . d . his heart...and killed him long before any of the bullets that later riddled his body ever would have.

..."…'keep-shooting-until-I'm-dead'…" - and Tom Riddle dropped the gun with an elegance unmatched.

His laughter died away and he watched the dead little boy's lifeblood create brightred rivers in the brightwhite crystalline snow.

A smirk filled to the brim with curious contempt and hate and satisfaction; yes, one just like that, spread across Tom Riddle's rosyred cheeks as he turned away from the body of the dead-little-boy.

TooSoonTooSoon, thoughts of his victory over muggles and their sillylittle toys had already erased the notion of murder from his mind.

-And yes; in the following years, Tom Riddle never again thought of the child who saw. too. much- he had never even known the boy's name...