Chapter 1. Pushing it down and praying
The frost settled on the grounds as Marlene let a soft sigh fall from her lips. The cool, icy air created a mist that escaped from her mouth, swirling in delicate tendrils. Her hands shivered, the knuckles turning a pale pinkish hue as she pulled the sleeves of her jumper down. She glanced up at the astronomy tower looming in the distance. Moonlight reflected off its steeple, casting eerie shadows around the school, making the ancient stone walls seem almost alive. Rummaging through her pocket, Marlene eventually pulled out her lighter. The initials ‘M.M’ were carved into it, although the etching had faded with time. She held the cool metal in her slender, shaky fingers as she retrieved a cigarette. Normally, she would light it instantly, taking short, rushed drags to relieve the stress of her day. But tonight was different. Tonight, she twiddled the cigarette between her fingers, almost absentmindedly, like a child prodding at a meal they had no appetite for. With a shaky inhalation, she took in the warm smoke escaping the butt, but it provided little comfort. The cigarette slipped from her fingers, landing on the cold, grassy floor below. She ground it out with the heel of her boot, the action feeling more like a finality than a release. Suddenly, her hands felt… empty. In an impulse, she began to fidget with her necklace—a delicate cross pendant that seemed oddly out of place on her. It was a melody of faith she was not sure she believed in anymore. Part of her was almost scared to take it off; that would mean facing herself, bare in the mirror, seeing the tainted, broken version that lingered beneath the surface. But as she brushed the thought away, determination flickered in her blue-grey eyes. She picked up her satchel, threw it over her shoulder, and set her sights on the girls' dormitory. With each step towards the warmth of the castle, she hoped her thoughts would not catch up to her.
Marlene lay in her bed, wrapped tightly in a heavy quilt, the warmth did little to shield her from the turmoil swirling within. Outside, the winter night cast its frigid spell over Hogwarts, snowflakes drifting slowly to the ground, each one a reminder of the purity that felt so far removed from the chaos in her heart. Marlene's mind spiralled into a labyrinth of conflicting emotions. The voice of her mother echoed in her thoughts, taught with the tightness of a rosary, recounting tales of virtue and sin with unmistakable authority. “A good witch does not stray from the path,” her mother would always say, her words laced with disappointment whenever the notion of love veered from tradition. Each sermon of righteousness felt like iron chains around her heart, tightening with every unconfessed desire. With Dorcas, Marlene felt alive and free, yet that freedom came at a steep price—the gnawing guilt of betrayal haunted her, dragging her spirit down like an anchor. Every thought of love for Dorcas felt like a transgression, sinful and forbidden, rousing the spectres of shame and regret. Lying there amid her blankets, the iron grip of guilt constricted further, leaving her breathless. The teachings of her youth were woven deep into her soul, a tapestry of fear that whispered, “This is wrong.” A pang of despair pierced her heart as she recalled the solemn eyes of her mother, reddened and full of sorrow, unable to accept anything but what was she was believed right, and godly. With every flake of snow that fell, Marlene felt the weight of expectations broaden, suffocating her. It felt inescapable; this life she was meant to live seemed foregone, scripted like one of the many dusty tomes lining the library. She longed for freedom, but internalized shame held her hostage. “What would God think?” the voice whispered darkly, echoing with doubt. “Would He condemn me for loving her?” A tear slid down the curve of her cheek, and in that moment, she let the anguish swell within her, her chest tightening with the burden of her silence. The cold air seeped around her, biting at her skin but the real chill lay in the hollow pit of her stomach, a knowing ache that gnawed at her spirit. Caught in the throes of her dilemma, Marlene felt a tempest brewing, creating chaos in the quiet of her heart. The guilt that twisted through her soul shattered the serenity of the winter night; instead of solace, it brought an overpowering sense of dread, as if she were hiding a fire beneath a mountain of snow, ready to erupt at any moment. She envisioned her mother’s anguished face if the truth ever slipped through her lips, and the thought was like a jolt of ice water coursing through her veins, squeezing her eyes shut against a wave of warmth that threatened to rise at the thought of Dorcas’s hands entwined with her own. Moments slipped into hours, the night stretching long and dark around her. As the snow fell softly outside, each flake a fleeting chance for freedom, Marlene grappled with a growing desire—to confront the truth, to speak her love into existence, but fear rooted her in place. The internal chaos thrummed louder, a relentless reminder that breaking free could mean heartbreak and loss. “God, help me,” she whispered into the quiet, feeling utterly vulnerable and alone.
.