Queenie was five years old when she started developing her mind reading abilities, showing up in the form of relentless, painful headaches. No matter what they did, they'd come back, and even after she learned to claim control of her powers they never quite disappeared. The first three years of not knowing the whys and hows were the scariest, but at eight and a half years she was finally identified as a natural Legilimens by a kind Doctor that she couldn't remember the name of anymore, and it became easier.
She had never felt as proud as she did when she wrote the letter about it to her sister, to Tina, who had left for Ilvermorny only six months earlier. What had earlier been confusion and unexplainable symptoms, long sleepless nights and fears that kept her sister from getting excited when he Ilvermorny attendance letter came, had turned into a simple diagnosis. It would not mean her life would be simple, far from it, but at least there'd be an explanation.
People never stay
The first thought she was ever clearly able to hear, a single line of words rising above the normal headache inducing noise in her head and actually becoming readable, is her sisters. They are deep and pained and laced with bitter hate for things beyond her control, and Queenie can tell it's been there a long time. It scare her.
They'll leave me and Queenie soon enough, and all we'll have is eachother, again
Queenie is eleven. Her sister is fourteen. It is finally time for them both to be attending Ilvermorny together, and though Queenie would never tell her she'd much rather be sorted a Pukwudgie than a Thunderbird like her sister. They seemed kinder, somehow, and she felt her heart fitted better there. Pukwudgies always favoured those with a pure heart.
There is no one who's really going to miss them when they leave, nor is there anyone seeing them off at the station. Two workers from the orphanage accompany them and the other five children being seen off to Ilvermorny that year, but it's out of obligation and not love. All they care about is that there are six new children who is no longer their problem or responsibility anymore. Queenie still try to be polite with them, though, and say good bye, but Tina pull her away from them before she can.
When she is sitting on the train, Tina tell her not to look out the window till they left the station. She tells her it's bad and she shouldn't. But as she goes away to help a second year girl she knows, promising to be back soon, Queenie still do. All the warning s have sparked her curiosity. Out there on the platform, she see parents, grandparents, siblings and friends waving goodbye to their children, grandchildren, sisters, brothers and friends, watching them leave. But none of them are waving to Queenie and Tina. The workers who took them there have already left, and for the first time Queenie start to understand where her sisters bitter thoughts had come from.
They were alone
Over time, Queenie gradually became used to it, to the life they led. First, she became used to the bitter undertone in so many of her sister's thoughts, then, she became used to Tina distrusting any friends she made. She became used to the way the mistrust was always correct, and she became used to sticking to her sister alone because it was easier.
When Tina became an Auror, about a year after Queenie graduated Ilvermorny and moved in with her, she had to get used to the roles being reversed compared to how it earlier had been. Caught up in excitement and stress at work there was no time for Tina to look after neither herself nor her sister, and instead it became Queenie's job to do so. It was not hard, really, and being the better cleaner and chef Queenie didn't mind fixing household chores and pay bills while her sisters got them the money to make it by.
Still, it made the adapted loneliness harder. Before, she always had her sister lingering at her side, but with her new work as an Auror she was pulled away from her more and more and in her place only quite loneliness stayed.
Queenie didn't know how to handle that. The mantra that People never stay which her sister had once thought was still engraved deep within her soul, and when Queenie started searching ways to disprove it thorough chatting with some of the other coffee girls and nine to five employees of MACUSA, she found it to have an opposed effect. Either she'd find something dirty in their souls, keeping her from getting close, or they'd lack an interest in her that would soon become painstakingly obvious.
She didn't know how to make friends, or find friends, without jealousy over her looks or perverted thoughts of what they'd like to do to her in a broom closet.
Queenie adapted to being all on her own, mostly, looking after herself though Tina promised to always protect her and trying not to be resentful.
She was alone. People always left. It was the way the world worked.
The day Tina brought home the two strangers was quite possibly the happiest day of Queenie's life. Though it didn't show, her first thoughts were suspicious, raised eyebrows at her sister's face giving her an indication before she proceeded with a cheap and slutty charm carelessly used against the painfully innocent little boys that Tina found god knows where. She was not supposed to bring home boys, or random people who could hurt them, but if she had to Queenie would at least make sure to get to have her fun, even if they were there because of Tina's work.
The cheap charm didn't last nearly as long as Queenie had been planning, though, because no sooner had she brushed against their minds with hers than she could detect that there was something different about them. Their souls were absolutely pure, their personality so perfectly loyal and honourable that she had never seen anything like it.
Queenie couldn't help but giggle, laughing inwardly with glee at what she'd found, and she wondered if her sister knew, or if she could tell her. Would Tina even believe her?
But Queenie's thoughts weren't focused on her sister at the moment, but rather at herself, and one of their guests. One of their guests were a mo-maj boy, with the No-maj name of Jacob Kowalski, who, surprisingly enough, was Jewish just like her.
The man was watching the magical world around him with interest, taking it all in and processing it like a little child figuring out a new toy. His open and honest mind radiated a feeling of trust and loyalty that Queenie couldn't help but feel affected by. Somewhere in the maze of a laughter and discussions and enjoying the smooth, warm feeling of his mind and thoughts, Queenie decided he'd be the first and last beside her sister who she'd trust wholeheartedly.
Somehow, she could feel all that empty loneliness that she'd grow adapted to over the years, the space in her heart her sister used to fill but didn't anymore, and she knows she want his love for her to fill that space. It is already filling that space. She knows the same thing is for his heart and it feels good to know that her love and affection, of which she had so much, had a home beside her sister's tiny, hardened heart.
People never stay
It's months later, and she is staring at the big windows of the new neighbourhood bakery, angry and hurting. The mantra her sister thought of all those years ago on that train station platform is burning in the back of her mind, and she knows the only reason her sister is not there to pull her away from the big display in the window is because she's in their apartment, writing a letter to the boy she loved who'd decided to go back home across the Ocean.
At least he still remembered she existed.
She'd been so quick to accept Jacob into her life, she hadn't even remembered that she'd have to let go before it was too late to do so. She'd already convinced herself he'd be the exception to the rule and stay, and that all would be well if he did, but none of that had worked out as she planned.
The obliviation of all the No-Maj in New York had pulled him away from her and once more proved that the words of her at the time fourteen year old sister still stood strong, making her once more forced to adapt. Forced to adapt to what she hated the most : Loneliness .
People never stay, after all, and it would be all but foolish if they did, for it was not in their nature.
People were made to leave.