No Longer Innocent
By Sayuri

For the first time, I realize I am alone.

Sure, there are other people in the cells, but none of them give a damn about me. They're too busy screaming for their loved ones, screaming for help, screaming because they're too insane to do otherwise. No, not a single one of them cares for me.

It isn't as if it matters - no one cares for me anymore. Sure, maybe James still cares, but James is dead, and dead people can't waltz into Azkaban and say "What's up?" and then lead me away. Dead people simply can't care.

Remus certainly doesn't care, he most likely wants me dead (who doesn't?), and the thought of that traitor rat bastard makes me want to commit a mass murder of some sort.

I am staring at the ceiling, feeling empty. The ceiling doesn't stare back, of course, it just drips with some kind of disgusting water that tastes like I'm licking a rusted pipe. But I'm not going to spit it out - it's the only thing I have to drink at the moment.

I roll over onto my side, and my head hits the hard, cold floors of the cell. I can hear the screams clearly now, but unlike the others, I don't flinch at all. I had screamed, too, I remember. It had only been a few hours since I stopped, or at least I think it is. It's hard to tell how time passes here - it's always dark.

But, yeah, I screamed. I screamed for James and Remus and Lily, I screamed that I wanted out, that I was innocent. But no one's going to believe me, because as far as they're concerned, I'm insane anyway. But I'm not insane, it's these other nutters that are. I'm innocent, I didn't do it.

In reality, though, I am not innocent. Not any longer.

Maybe I was innocent in my childhood, the days I spent riding my broomstick and laughing. Maybe I was innocent when I used to pull pranks on the teachers and blame them on Snape, or when I used to hang around with my friends and have snowball fights. But children are innocent, they don't understand.

But in this case, I am not alone. No one here is innocent...I don't mean it in the normal way. Even if they were innocent of their crimes (like me), they are innocent no longer. This place is hell on earth, it's the kind of thing the priests in church try to warn you about.

God, shutup, shutup. The woman next to me is insane, I believe, and she keeps banging her head on the bars of her cell. I swear, she's going to give herself brain damage if she keeps it up. But I'd rather have brain damage then be in here...maybe it's not such a bad idea.

And now I'm laughing, I don't know why. Maybe for the same reason I laughed when the police found me...maybe I really am insane. I don't know anymore, I just know that I'm laughing - a bitter laugh I cannot recognize - and it's because I'm innocent. I don't care what those bastards say, I'm innocent.

How am I innocent, though? I keep telling myself this, but I don't believe it. I want to die, I want to die for even suggesting the fact that Peter be the Secret-Keeper. God, I killed them, it was me who caused their death. If I had been smart, I would have let the original plan go through, and maybe everything would be different.

I shift positions again, now turning towards the wall.

It's a boring wall.

Is this what my life has become? Am I going to be forced to stare at walls all day? Although, at this rate, I figure I'll be talking to them a few weeks from now. A lot of people talk to walls in here, so it's not like I'd be sticking out or anything. Maybe I should try. "Hello," I say to the wall.

The wall is silent.

Damn wall.

So much for that. I suppose walls are unfriendly here. It would be nice to have someone to talk you, but no one in here's in the mood for talking. I mean, I could probably try, but it'd be too painful. So I'll be silent forever, not talking. I don't need to talk, because only innocent and pure people are permitted to speak to others. And, since I am neither of those, I shouldn't speak.

Innocence allows you to do a lot of things. You can laugh with your friends without secretly feeling that one of them is a traitor. You can fly through the air on a broomstick, being carefree and not worried about dark wizards coming to murder you. You can sleep, you don't have to lie on a stone floor and listen to people screaming. You can enjoy your life, you don't have to worry about dementors coming around and making you feel like you should die.

But I suppose it's a punishment for not being innocent.

***** ***** *****

Waaaii, finished. Nyaa~!

God, the Diamondbacks just scored a run. There goes my good mood. ;_; *is a diehard Yankees fan*

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, Sirius would have made lots of wall friends while spending time in Azkaban. ^_^