Post by Madeline Speare on Jun 25, 2008 4:59:32 GMT
You'd think they have some decency to fix that drip. Of course they wouldn't. We're criminals, we don't deserve anything, or at least that's what we keep being told over and over.
I've been in the same spot for the past three days, laying in the middle of my cell on the floor. Watching that annoying leak in the ceiling drip down onto the floor a few feet away from me.
This place is driving me insane. I don't feel like the same person anymore, I've given up on faith. It hasn't helped me at all since I've been in here. I probably don't look like the same person either. I can just feel myself wasting away, and it's not like I had much weight to loose in the first place. My skin is a lot paler due to the lack of sunlight and my hair's longer then ever reaching mid back, and in a brief form of rebellion, I dyed my hair dark brown.
I had one of the guards to thank for that, it really amazing how much they don't pay attention. I managed to snatch a way, change my hair colour and throw a hex in that whore Bellatrix Lestrange's direction. It's bad enough that I'm stuck here with Logan but the fact that she's here too. Well, I may just kill myself now.
It's crossed my mind a couple of times in all honesty. I'm tempted to starve myself, that or start a riot and make a guard end it for me. I'd never go through with it though. My thoughts are still of my family, and I'd never put them through it. Just thinking about my family makes me miss them even more.
Raising my right hand, I gently trace my forefinger across the scar running across my palm. Ian. I miss him a lot, he's come a couple of times but I don't want to keep putting him through this. There's some good news at least, I'm finally getting a trail.
It's about fucking time. I think bitterly, rolling onto my side, propping my head up on my arm.
Liam's been by to see me a couple of times as well, much to my surprise. We've talked, briefly, and it seems he's the only one who knows how to comfort me when I start crying.
I still cry. A lot. Mainly during night, then the screaming starts. These dementors know how to fuck with your head. I'm not sure if it's because of the dementors causing me to scream and disrupting his peace of mind or whatever I'm guessing that he just wants me to shut up, Logan has been talking to me. Actually talking too, no insults, no snide little comments, well at least not as many as I use to get.
This place sure knows how to fuck with your head.
I can hear footsteps, but I make no move to see who it is.
Instead I move back onto my side, my back to the bars.
I've learned by now not to get my hopes up.
I've been in the same spot for the past three days, laying in the middle of my cell on the floor. Watching that annoying leak in the ceiling drip down onto the floor a few feet away from me.
This place is driving me insane. I don't feel like the same person anymore, I've given up on faith. It hasn't helped me at all since I've been in here. I probably don't look like the same person either. I can just feel myself wasting away, and it's not like I had much weight to loose in the first place. My skin is a lot paler due to the lack of sunlight and my hair's longer then ever reaching mid back, and in a brief form of rebellion, I dyed my hair dark brown.
I had one of the guards to thank for that, it really amazing how much they don't pay attention. I managed to snatch a way, change my hair colour and throw a hex in that whore Bellatrix Lestrange's direction. It's bad enough that I'm stuck here with Logan but the fact that she's here too. Well, I may just kill myself now.
It's crossed my mind a couple of times in all honesty. I'm tempted to starve myself, that or start a riot and make a guard end it for me. I'd never go through with it though. My thoughts are still of my family, and I'd never put them through it. Just thinking about my family makes me miss them even more.
Raising my right hand, I gently trace my forefinger across the scar running across my palm. Ian. I miss him a lot, he's come a couple of times but I don't want to keep putting him through this. There's some good news at least, I'm finally getting a trail.
It's about fucking time. I think bitterly, rolling onto my side, propping my head up on my arm.
Liam's been by to see me a couple of times as well, much to my surprise. We've talked, briefly, and it seems he's the only one who knows how to comfort me when I start crying.
I still cry. A lot. Mainly during night, then the screaming starts. These dementors know how to fuck with your head. I'm not sure if it's because of the dementors causing me to scream and disrupting his peace of mind or whatever I'm guessing that he just wants me to shut up, Logan has been talking to me. Actually talking too, no insults, no snide little comments, well at least not as many as I use to get.
This place sure knows how to fuck with your head.
I can hear footsteps, but I make no move to see who it is.
Instead I move back onto my side, my back to the bars.
I've learned by now not to get my hopes up.
