Five Things Mary MacDonald Realizes.

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I am alone in this world, everything (everything) I ever (ever) cared for is gone. Blown away by harsh wind, wind that is mocked now, as I draw my ragged breaths in the chilly winter air. Because nothing (Nothing) can ever be as cold as the harsh wind that drew them all away.

I wonder sometimes if I'm insane, it seems like that, when I'm over whelmed by memories, when I just sit in the hospital holding the corpse of the girl I once knew, once mocked and taunted, and laughed and shared memories with. When I look at the ghostly pale thing of a girl the hazy outline of what she once was. It was pure undiluted mockery that kept her in this world, this fate, this hollow thing, that always seemed so haunted, like she was never really (really) , there.

Alice is far worse than dead now.

1

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Gravestones are everywhere (Anywhere). They follow me around like shadows. They are always (here) there, and very rarely leave my presence. Lily Potter haunts me like a ghost, and James drifts behind her.

I fear I killed Lily Potter, when I told her (so long ago it seems) that Severus was a greasy haunt of a boy. If only I knew what a haunt was (is). I'm a haunt. When I stand in the sun it seems as if I'm translucent, I'm so pale. I used to be golden, but I fear the light now. For if Lily can't see the sun (her favorite thing) then why should I?

She's in the ground, the only place (if you can call it that) where light can't reach.

2

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I'm hollow on the inside now. A grotesque shell of a woman, the girl I once was, full of passion and life, I'm not like that anymore, I've changed (irreversibly). I don't have curls any more. He loved (adored) my curls. My eyes are vacant, my face blank.

I'm useless (pitiful) without him, them. I can't read the newspaper any more. I can't listen to music. Or play quidditch (sweet, sweet quidditch). I am a grotesque shell of a woman now, all because I loved (love) Sirius Black; we all (every single damn one of us) Loved Sirius Black.

I'll shall never love again.

3

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I'm in hell (the worst kind). It's strange (heartbreaking) when I enter headquarters and he's sitting there. Staring (gloating) at me. I refuse to look at him in the eyes. Whenever I look at him in the eyes, everything spills out of me, like a hurricane. A disaster (I'm the disaster).

I can't (won't) love anymore, I can't feel happiness (I wonder if I can feel anything?) , I carry the weight of the dead on my shoulders, their gravestones lurking in my presence (they're everywhere, reaching for me) and black emptiness lingers around me carving a sickly impression into my skin.

I still go to him one last time.

4

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He had been killed, just like the rest of them (Remus has been missing for months now). I was the last one now (The very last one). I didn't even feel like one. I felt like a half (more like a third); A shell of a woman, eerie and sickening, stained with the past that wouldn't (couldn't) leave well enough well enough alone.

It was dark (I could hear the drip drip dripping of the sewers) and the London air choked me with a thick haze that lingered every where it seemed. I heard (thud thud thud) them, the silenced footsteps and the quite (yet rasping) breathing. I heard them before I saw them and I wasn't scared. It was him of course. The man (monster) who'd taken so much (every thing) away from me, I'd never thought I'd be happy to see the red (demonic) eyes. I'd never thought I'd be happy to see the man who killed so many (innocent and guilty), but I was, oh I was, I could almost taste death (thick and pungent) on my tongue.

Blessed relief fills me as I dropped to the ground (so this is what happiness feels like).

5

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Mary MacDonald was a shadow of a girl barely alive, but hardly dead.

The End.

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