Disclaimer: No
I see the dementor walk past my cell. It slowly turns its 'face' towards me, like it knows I still have a glimmer of hope in me.
I smell the rot of decaying flesh, vomit and despair. These are the smells of my new home.
I hear the whimper of the new one in the cell across from me. After a while they'll never make a sound again.
I taste the blood in the air, new and old. This is a path many have gone down.
I feel the rough cloth of my cloak in my hands. Worn, day after day.
My barking laugh echoes across the island that is Azkaban.
I am Sirius Black, and I am a prisoner.