DEAREST MAR ━━ marlene mckinnon

vi. already dying inside

SIX. ALREADY DYING INSIDE

( place me in my casket tonight
because i'm already dying inside )

LATE SEPTEMBER 1981

DEAREST MAR,

I feel sick.

The world is twisting and turning around me, I feel like I'm plunging into darkness. I have absolutely no motivation to do anything other than write these letters to you. Sirius has been distant lately – pretending like both his siblings passed when Reg did.

It hurts so much.

It hurts Mar. And it won't stop.

Everyday I do not even wish to climb out of my bed and look at my broken, broken brother ignoring me as much as he can, only speaking to Remus and holding him close, only grinning when Remus tells him a joke.

I'm his sister, Mars.

He can tell that I'm hurt, he always knows. And I just cannot anymore. I can't breathe anymore, I can't have a single moment of happiness – I cannot even remember the last time I've laughed.

You.

I miss you much that it's consuming me. Every second of my time is dedicated to looking at wrinkled pictures in old photo albums, not even an ounce of dust collecting on them. The pages have been twisted and curled with gashes that look as if a sword has sliced into them, leaving ornate and poker straight marks.

You've left me so distraught Marlene.

It is agony doing the slightest of chores, having a shower, getting work done at the order.

You're not with us anymore – your cool and forlorn blue grey eyes and your sunshine golden hair tumbling till your waist like a waterfall.

All gone.

Gone, Gone, Gone.

I'm done, Mar. I'm hanging on by a sheer, thin thread and Sirius thinks to invite him into the house – a suspected traitor.

Pettigrew has been scrutinising me for every small flaw I reveal, throwing his head back in a snigger whenever I emerge from my room, shaking and dripping with melancholy, talking about himself as if his minute problems at the ministry are greater than mine.

I do not feel like I'm enough in the first place, and this rat of an animagus has to rub all of my flaws and insecurities right into my face, as if I am emotionless, and what I feel and think does not matter.

I absolutely detest myself for letting me get affected by the most minuscule of things that he says to me, Sirius and Remus both bursting into peals of laughter after he says something vile towards me. Sirius is my brother, and I know that it's supposed to be some sort of twisted joke, but I miss the old him.

The version of him that would beat Pettigrew up for even making a comment suggesting that I am less than perfect.

I miss him, but he's right in the sitting room drinking tea, Marlene.

When you died, a part of me died too.

The part of me that would smile and brighten up with ease whenever James or Sirius asked me to join their pranks on Snape.

The part of me that was impulsive and spontaneous, disapparating us to the top of the hills at midnight, staring at the city lights as if they were stars.

The part of me that would live each moment with upmost glee, because I knew that life was short.

You're proof of the statement that life is short, if I was to think of it.

You had an entire life ahead of you – you were going to become a healer, and a damn good one too.

But now you're gone.

Vanished faster than dew before the morning sun.

FOREVER AND
ALWAYS YOURS,
CARINA LYRA BLACK