Lamentations

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It's cold. Cold and dark and dank. 

There's a sense of finality. My fate draws near. Screams fill the air and I know that others have been punished for their crimes. Five minutes until my time is up.

Five minutes until my time is up.

I know this is what I deserve deep within me. I am nothing but a lowly death eater sitting on death row. Or perhaps what shall befall me could be considered worse than death. A soulless vegetable. A carcass of a man. Devoid of feeling and awareness. That will be me in four minutes.

That will be me in four minutes.

I should cry out like the monsters before me who received the kiss of death and yet I cannot seem to care. I replay my trial, over and over in my head and see the spiteful, disgusted face of my boyfriend and know that this is what he wants.

I betrayed Harry. I betrayed the man I love by becoming the thing he hates most. 

With the words 'I sentence Draco Lucius Malfoy to the dementors kiss' he will have his revenge. I need to be punished. For my crimes against Harry I must be punished. In three minutes Harry gets revenge.

In three minutes Harry gets revenge.

The screams become silent and I am trapped in my mind once more. I have been here for an eternity and yet it seems only yesterday that I was condemned to the darkness. The dementors haven't much left to take from me. I shall be happy to rid myself of the negative emotions I am subjected to. Why should I care if my memories of betrayal are sucked from my being? 

Harry. My existence. Gone. So I shall be only too glad to leave too. Two minutes till my exit.

Two minutes till my exit. 

A wave of cold washes over once more. My thoughts scream in my brain as I curl, shaking into a corner. I hear the rattle of breath in the cell next to mine. One minute and then it's my time to die.

One minute and then it's my time to die.

The clock has been ticking, the deed will be done. Kill off the enemy and the battle is won. A mark decides who lives and who does not and I happen to be one of the branded souls defined as guilty. No lawyer could save me. No influence. No wealth. A picture paints a thousand words or in this case, a tattoo. On the stroke of the hour, for me the clock stops.

On the stroke of the hour, for me the clock stops.


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