|
[03 Jan 2008|01:04am] |
There is silence, this endless silence. After the dirge ended it was so fucking quiet and nothing's been the right volume ever since. We were all carrying umbrellas because we thought it was going to rain and his grandmother said something to me but I couldn't understand because her accent was too thick and I bet he wouldn't even have wanted to be buried in some place with too many f's and fucking w's in it, he said he wanted to be with me always but they never found a body so he just gets a marker. Missing presumed motherfucking dead. I couldn't stop crying, I couldn't stop crying. I told mum I was going to make him ask me to marry me and she said "What are you like?" all fondly and later I saw her going through the attic digging out all my baby stuff that she'd kept, not that I really wanted kids right away but she wanted them and I guess eventually I would've had them but now that'll never ever ever bloody happen, will it? There will never be a perfect little child that is just the right combination of Cara and me. All those times I was drunk and laughing and he'd hold me so tightly and I hardly even remember it, why did I waste so much of my goddamn life? Why did I waste so much forgetting and doing stupid shit with other friends, he never really fit properly with anyone but me and I should have taken every second I had but I was an idiot, a horrid little idiot who thought her sodding stupid ideas about love were greater than anything the darkness and the war could throw at me. I wanted to live in the crazy days forever. Now I don't even know if I want to live. But I have to see the end of this, have to know that there's an end to this. Plus, he... Cara... he used to see a lot of death in St. Mungos and he always said the saddest loss was the pointless loss, the people who wasted away because their loved ones died. So he wouldn't want me to... he wouldn't want it. And deep deep deep down, deeper than anywhere I've ever been, deeper than I've kept anything before there's this spark, right? That maybe. Because they didn't find a body. I mean, it's a long shot. Dumbledore said I couldn't look for him (I keep having nightmares of the shifting under rubble, a tiny weary voice calling my name, waiting to be rescued...) Benjy had to hold me down when they told me he hadn't come back. A day when by, then a week, then two weeks and someone's saying they found his broom all wrecked. I couldn't stop crying. Hints from the Death Eater underground, some fucker hinting that someone they knew maybe took down someone who looked a little like Dearborn... well, I guess since St. Mungos has lost their best fracture-repairman someone else'll have to repiece his jaw, but it still makes me feel warm inside. More than most other stuff does these days. It's like I've been cut in half, and I've been trying to be so good, so normal but after Meadowes and McKinnon and all the others, all the goddamn casualties and I kept on laughing and believing I was going to live forever but I'm not. None of us are. One day I'm going to die but until then I'm going to take as many of the motherfuckers down with me as I can.
I'm not going to cry anymore.
|
|