There Marceline was, still holding Dolly close to her chest.
The light had left Dolly's eyes a long time ago. She didn't know how long ago. Minutes? Hours? Days?
Time didn't matter.
Her sobbing had only grown more intense, tears wetting a cold, unresponsive cheek.
She remembered all the times she cried before, with Dolly. All the times that Dolly would hold her close and tell her it was okay. She always tried so hard to make her feel better, even though she never knew why she was so prone to getting emotional when it was just the two of them together.
She never knew, until today. Until the day that she was so cruelly snatched away.
Darkness swirled around Marceline, encroaching upon her, nipping at her sides and threatening to eat her alive. She tightened her grip, brought the bleeding body of her beloved closer, hoping futilely that it would go away. Even as her insides twisted into knots, she kept holding on.
She remembered every touch they ever shared. Every caress, every pinch, every gentle hug. Every kiss, every handhold, every little movement. She remembered the feeling of Dolly lying in her lap. She remembered how her weight felt, as she slept so soundly, safe and secure in her arms.
How different that weight was, now that she was gone.
The darkness closed in, leaving the outside world behind. The only sound she heard was her own ragged breaths. Now, it was just her and the broken vessel of the woman she loved, in this quiet dark.
She remembered the sound of her voice. How sweet it was, how gentle it sounded. Dolly could have sat there reading the dictionary and Marceline would have listened, beginning to end. She remembered how wonderful it was to hear her laugh, to listen to the joy in it. She remembered how all she wanted was to hear that sweet sound as much as possible.
And now, she would never hear it again.
The darkness settled around her, swallowing her up. Filling her with its emptiness, its numbness. She wanted to scream, to cry out, but there was no one there to help her.
Not anymore.
As the darkness filled her lungs, ripping apart her insides and choking the life out of her, she finally gave in.
And it drowned her.
Swollen, dead eyes stared upon the shattered, leaking body of her dead lover. Nothing left behind but a drained corpse, guarded by the Wretch, the Failure, the pathetic creature that did not prevent this crime from occurring. Despairing eyes flitted elsewhere, trying to clear the image burned into her mind, only for a monochrome fog to settle all around her.
The world was gray. Everything, drained of any vibrancy it might have once had, replaced by barren shapes and empty echoes. Nothing but barren, despairing shapes. Nothing but empty, sorrowful echoes.
All of it, devoid of any meaning.
Perhaps it was mercy, to be severed from a place such as this. To be ripped away and denied the misery inherent in existing within it. In the same way that Dolly had been granted this mercy, the Wretch, in turn, wanted to be given it. She wanted nothing more than to rejoin her love.
A dagger, drawn. Presented to the throat, like an adder ready to strike. Poised to rip open the dam holding back the embrace of oblivion and unleash a tide of crimson from the Failure's neck.
"Don't worry Dolly, I'll be with you again, soon."
When the Wretch spoke, she sounded distant, muffled, ethereal. A meaningless echo from a worthless collection of shapes. Nothing but scum, ready to purge her valueless existence from this empty world.
"If anything happens to me, you have to live."
Remnants of a last request, reverberating through her mind. The lost one's weeping, ringing in her ears like a song of sorrow that wouldn't stop playing.
A dagger, dropped. A new one, piercing the heart, tearing it asunder. Want as she might, this was not an oath she could violate.
But, even with the oath, there was nothing left for the Wretch. There was no point in persisting. Any further struggle would be futile, the end was inevitable. In the present or the future, the finale of the Failure's story would come, and everything in between now and then would mean nothing in this world of barren shapes and empty echoes.
In this world of sorrow. In this world of guilt. In this world of despair.
In this world without love.
And Dolly would never know if the oath was kept. Trying to fulfill it would be a wasted endeavor, just as any attempt to fight the inevitability of entropy would be. As far as the Wretch was concerned, any goal, any outlook,
anything in this entire, miserable existence would be nothing but a waste, now that Dolly was gone. Everything that she could do, now reduced to nothing but a futile attempt at screaming into the void and hoping it screamed back.
It was all pointless.
Pointless.
POINTLESS.
The Wretch screeched, her arm flying forward, hand balled into a hateful fist. The wall in front of the Failure, the gravestone of her lost lover, buckled underneath the force, a crater left in the wake of her fist. Bruised and bloody knuckles were drawn back, angry wheezing and mournful weeping echoing into the emptiness of the air around her.
As meaningless as the oath was, as much as she tried to think her way out of it, she still cared. She still wanted to love even if she didn't get any back. She still wanted to dry the tears of her lost one's weeping.
"Why, why, WHY?" The Wretch bellowed, her words choked by sobs as she clawed and yanked at her hair. "Why do I still have to care? Why can't I let myself die?"
Why, after losing the only meaning to life she has ever had, was she still trying to find meaning in this loveless void?
The Failure battered the ground with her shattered fist in a fury, only to raise her chin, and for her gaze to lock onto the black, cyclopean, voyeuristic gaze of the camera in the room. Watching her suffering, mocking her and her struggles. An emotionless gaze fixated upon her and, only barely obscured behind her, her dead lover.
Dolly had wanted to be unseen. For her death to be a mystery. The Wretch wanted so badly to smash it, to stop its voyeurism once and for all, but that would result in swift and deadly retribution, and break the already fragile oath that she had taken. Destroy the only meaning she had left, that she was holding onto out of love and sentimentality.
If she was damned to continue to live, she would have to be more careful than that.
A bloody shirt, removed and tossed, to obscure the black, empty eye of the voyeur. Quick movement. A table flipped on its side and moved, to obscure the deceased. Quicker still, to the voyeur, as beeping, like the not-so-metaphorical ticking of a timer attached to a bomb, began to ring out from the Wretch's neck, building her anxiety.
The shirt removed, the cyclops, unblocked, the beeping, ceased.
A sigh of relief. Then, a collapse to the floor. Examination of the bloody rags, of the faded and now ruined color. An unsuitable outfit for her continued survival.
Her sack of belongings, opened. The spare outfit, drawn out. A black tank top and black pants. An outfit befitting of a woman in mourning.
The Wretch's head craned back towards the broken form of the woman she loved. On one hand, she could not bear to stay in this place of tragedy a moment longer. One the other, she would prefer to never leave her lover's side again. To leave, to her, would be to forget. To abandon the love they shared.
But this was not her home. This was not where she belonged. There could only be further sorrow, here.
Instead, a memento would be kept. A constant reminder to not repeat the failures of the past. Like the bloody locket, strung around her lover's neck. A key-shaped pendant, worn by her constantly like the key to the Failure's heart. A suitable token of love, and a sufficient reminder.
Her belongings, hastily collected. Her outfit, begrudgingly changed. Her memento, worn round her neck like a noose.
Her parting words...
"Goodbye, Dolly. No matter what, you'll always be in my heart. I love you."
...hesitantly given.
((
And her house of sorrows, departed.))