'What was the point in life?' he thought miserbly as he streached awakining fully. 'Well...not life itself...other people had great lifes in which laughter and smiles filled every moment...but his life was not like that.
There was no joy, no happiness, no laughter. There was no escaping it. Every day he awoke to coldness, emptiness. Pain. He awoke feeling hopeless. Like nothing in his life went right.
He dreaded going to sleep, just as much as waking up. He couldn't remember the last time he has a peaceful nights sleep. Always it was a restless one. Filled with nightmares, a night spent tossing and turing.
And waking up wasn't much better. Those hooded, emotionless things that would pass by him and sent shivers down his spine.
He wondered why he wasent dead by now, or at the very least insane. Most people ended up like that within a year. Dead or insane. He didint. He stayed strong.
Because one thing kept him going. One person. One boy. His best friends son.
He wondered what the boy was like? Did he like quidditch? Or was he more of a bookworm? Was he both? He felt saddened by the fact that he proberly would never know. He should know.
It was the rats fault. But he also blamed himself. For there deaths. For leaving the boy parentless.
But there was no point dwelling on the past. That was one of the main reasons people went insane. Thinking of what could have been. What should have happened.
He wondered how his werewolf friend was doing. He felt even more sorry for him. Leaving him alone. Two of his friends one dead supposedly dead and one locked up. The news must have left him a mess.
And what was worse was the fact he thought he could never find happniess or contentment...
But he felt he did not deserve either of these things because of the things he did and the people he hurt...
Beacuse he was sirius black living a hopeless life in azkaban...forevermore.
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