DEAREST MAR ━━ marlene mckinnon

v. stains of dried tears

FIVE. STAINS OF DRIED TEARS

( you're gone and i gotta stay
high all the time
to keep you off my mind )

MID SEPTEMBER 1981

DEAREST MAR,

I fear I am losing myself without you.

The days grow longer as my breaths grow shorter, my headaches becoming more persistent and obstinate as time ticks by.

The grandfather clock in my room has become an agony, each tick of each second ringing in my ears, over and over and over again. I need it to stop, Marlene. I want everything to stop.

I cannot live this miserable life anymore; I just want to see you. I want to be reunited with you on the other side, I want to feel the warmth of your arms around me, the unwavering melody of your familiar and misty voice.

Sometimes I look out the balcony and find myself wishing someone could firmly push me off the marble ledge because I do not have the guts to do it myself.

I stare at the lukewarm water in my bathtub, sometimes too long, wanting to throw my body under the liquid, waiting for it to engulf me completely and seep through my nose and throat.

I'm scared of my own thoughts, 'Lene.

But sometimes I just want to give it all up, you know? Sometimes I just want to be reunited with you on the other side, but I can't.

Not yet.

I have to live.

Not for myself, but for Sirius.

He acts as though it doesn't happen, but it does. He seems so down lately, his hair messy and uncombed, his eyes having the same morose glaze that mine do. I tried talking to him about it, but he keeps pushing me away like I do not understand his deepest struggles or pain.

But I do.

I do not think that he can stand more loss, his cheerful and easy-going spirit slowly fading after we heard about Regulus. Now, everyone is slowly passing away - like our entire generation is being wiped out, a genocide, even. Gideon and Fabian Prewett, Dorcas Meadowes, your brother Danny.

You.

Oh, how I miss you, Marlene.

Your golden curls like the strings of a harp, your blue eyes that had a mischievous glint in it, your pure and deep soul – ardent and passionate.

Your soul is the most utterly pristine, talking to you felt like I was wrapped in soft blankets on a cold night, sipping warm tea near a bricked fireplace. It made my stomach bubble with happiness as if I could pour out my soul to you on a platter with the faintest look of interest from you.

You're so beautiful, Mars, both body and soul.

But then you were gone. Disappeared. Slipping away from the real world as grains of sand would slip through my loose grasp.

Gone.

I cannot accept the fact that the only way I can see your glorious dimples and bittersweet smirk is through crumbled and forgotten pictures, and my hazy memory.

You're gone and I have to stay high on your memories to keep you off my mind.

Every flutter of laughter, every glint in your eyes fuels me as if it is a drug, having me lingering at the events that swirl through my mind like a hurricane, staring at the pictures – my last concrete reminder of you.

Marlene Mckinnon, my first love as well as my last. It is so bloody agonising that Lady Hecate has chosen to separate us in the most troubling way possible, with no means of communication whatsoever except these unread letters with dried stains on them. Stains of tea, stains of blood, stains of tears – all intertwined on these lost transcripts.

I cannot go to Hogwarts without your playful chortles echoing in my head. I cannot look at the Black Lake without the memories of us together flashing right in front of my eyes, my heart sinking completely at the person being taken from me, my eyes welling up with tears.

I'm so afraid.

The memories are starting to fade, and I'm so afraid that they will be gone – lost in the depths of my pathetic, pathetic mind.

I'm so afraid of forgetting you.

FOREVER AND
ALWAYS YOURS,
CARINA LYRA BLACK