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Trapped in my Mind by ablawande
Chapter 1 : Trapped in my Mind
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 2

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A/N: This is a small one-shot I came up with to enter in Elysium's Reflections challenge, i.e., to write a story without dialogue. Never tried that before.

For that matter, I've never even written in first person before, so this is a really new experience for me.

Hope you guys like the story. Any comments, criticisms or appreciations are always welcome.

Warning: Sensitive topic

Trapped in my Mind

        Drip … Drip … Drip …

        The sound of the dripping tap in the corner was an ever present reminder of the horrible situation that I have faced. Every minute of every hour of every day for the last thirteen years, it has spoken to me, sometimes soothing, sometimes agonising, sometimes loud, sometimes soft, but always there.

        There are very few other sounds that fall on my ears. The occasional shrieks and screams of people losing their minds, the sobbing of the others dying in their beds and sometimes the soft rustle of a cloak and the eerie rattle of drawn breath as a Dementor sweeps by my cell are all I have come to expect. But none of this affects me anymore. There was a time when the pleadings of a newcomer would pain my heart. To hear them thrown pitilessly into their cells or hear them pleading their innocence was more than I could bear. But they all went quiet in the end.

        Drip … Drip … Drip …

        It is an uncountable thing, a dripping tap. I know because I have tried. I lost count many years ago, when I was still a young man, still handsome, still full of hope and happiness. This madness has taken away my youth and my beauty. I am now no more than a shadow of the person I was, stripped of optimism, bereft of joy, yet I continue to exists, to linger without purpose in this world that has abandoned me for dead.

        When I was young, I would hear stories of the Dementors, the way they affected people and the state of the people inside these walls. I was told that people condemned to this place lost their will to live; few made it past a year in this hellhole. I survived … not through trickery or magic, but because of a burning desire … for revenge.

        Every drop now serves to remind me of who I am. Every subtle difference in that sound tells me that I am still Sirius Black, condemned for life from crimes I did not commit. Every moment that I hear it, I know that my captivity is real and not a nightmare, not a figment of my imagination.

        Drip … Drip … Drip …

        Sometimes I would hope; hope that I could hear the creak of my cell door opening and a soft voice calling out my name, telling me that I was finally free. But the Dementors took that all away. Every scintilla of happiness, every grain of hope was stolen from my mind by their foul breath and all that left behind was despair … and anger.

        The images that flicker through my mind when the Dementors pass by have never changed in the last thirteen years. I see James and Lily Potter dead in front of me. I see Peter Pettigrew vanish in a flash of light as the street around us explodes. I see the crowd jeer and spit at me as I am led away from the courts to my imprisonment in Azkaban.

        But what hurt the most out of all these memories was seeing Remus Lupin in the crowd, jeering with the rest of them. In a single night I lost the four people most important to me; two to death, one to betrayal and one to mistrust.

        Drip … Drip … Drip …

        But there is something else in my mind, more powerful than a memory, which haunts my dreams and my every waking moment. I was the one who killed James and Lily Potter. I was the one who suggested that James give the role of Secret Keeper to Peter. No one would suspect a weak little thing like Peter of housing such an important secret. It was my foolishness that led my friends to their deaths.

        Drip … Drip … Drip …

        I swore revenge on Peter. One day I would get out, would break free of this prison and hunt down that little slime, my former friend. Then, when he was down on his knees in front of me, begging for his life, I would steal the life from his worthless body, just like he stole my friends from me.

        Drip … Drip … Drip …

        Remus Lupin was not to blame here. If I thought that he was the spy, then it was logical that he would think the same of me. I swore also to seek his forgiveness, for, in my foolishness, I had mistrusted the wrong friend and lost a beloved comrade. He now remains my only real friend in this world, even if he no longer feels the same way.

        Drip … Drip … Drip …

        When I first came here, I thought that it was the dripping that would drive me crazy, before even the Dementors could. But as I felt the Dementors rip every happy thought out of my mind, it became the only constant in my life. It was there was I was first thrown unceremoniously into this cell. It was there even when I couldn’t remember the laughter I used to share with my friends. It was there when I could no longer remember how to laugh.

        That dripping gives me strength, because it reminds me that there are some things that even the Dementors cannot take from me. No matter how hard they try, they cannot steal my heart and all the feelings of hurt and anger and sorrow that remain within. No matter how hard they try, they cannot take away my innocence, my pain, my loss, my vengeance.

        Drip … Drip … Drip …

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