Something that was saved unfinished on my computer for a very long time. I finished it, and here it is. Please tell me what you think.
I am an innocent man.
I was convicted for a crime that I did not commit.
Years will have past, all those I have loved will have died in this Godforsaken war. Meanwhile, I will be rotting away in Azkaban. I couldn't save James. I couldn't save Lily, and the boy who lived will grow up believing that I betrayed his parents.
Should I blame myself?
My crime was a crime of passion, and I would kill that traitor one thousand times over if it meant I could talk to James again. Therein is the nightmare. James will never come back. My friend is dead. My friend is dead and people believe I sharpened the knife stabbed into his back.
I laugh. I laugh because this whole thing is so ridiculous that laughter is the only thing that keeps me sane. Trying to wrap my head around this impossible conclusion, I'd rather spend a century in Azkaban than understand this world where innocent woman and children are murdered in cold blood and families are torn apart by blood.
I laugh because it is the one way I can think of to fight back.
I laugh because it brings me closer to James.
I laugh because in this cement world of decay and death I can remember a time when I was happy, and the thought escapes my mind through my mouth in a horrible, cacophonous, laugh before the dementors can steal it away. I wouldn't be surprised if my old acquaintances thought I was crazy; although, they were probably expecting this. I am a Black after all.
Short, very short, but finished. Please tell me what you thought about it!