I Deserve This Dont I?

Year two

"HES COMING TONIGHT!" Harrys raspy voice penetrated the rather unusual silence. The few people there jumped slightly hearing the voice. "HES GOING TO ATTACK-" Harry never got to finish. The dementor came near, efficiently causing Harry to quiet down.

Once it was done eating what ever happy memories he still had left, it took its leave. Harry slumped against the wall. He didn't know how long he'd been there.

A week?

A month?

A year?

He didn't know nor cared anymore. The days blurred together, messing with his mind. Harry spent most of his time trying to figure out how to tell the time. This is what he came up with:

11 am: Three dementors come.

1 pm: One dementor comes with food.

2 pm: Cell exception, bathroom break, and health care. (Strangely enough they do want them alive.)

3-7 pm: Two dementors come and guard his cell. Occasionally turning to look at him.

8-10 am: Fighting off nightmares, Voldemort visions, and mental break downs.

Harry looked at his wrist. His pale skin glistened with sweat. He licked his chapped lips.

1 pm. Harry thought. Time for spoiled food.

The dementor came, holding a tray of food. If a dementor could smile it'd be grinning. It waved the food around, watching as Harrys eyes followed the plat. Until finally stopping and sliding the plate through the bars.

Lumpy mashpotatos. Harry wondered where the food came from. He almost laughed at loud at the thought of a dementor standing over a stove and cooking.

Life would never look up. He thought.

My life is a nightmare. If there really is a god, what did I do to piss him off so much? Harry thought, as he stared at his cell mates motionless body.