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I've settled into a sort of routine now. I sleep for as long as I can through the day and the night, so I don't have to deal with this awful reality. But sleep doesn't hold anything better. I have nightmares, every single night. I see my father's smug face as he kicks me repeatedly, Harry's face of disgust, and always, always him. Falling away, eyes unseeing. When I have that one, I wake up screaming. But everyone screams here.

My escort didn't lie about the weather. So far there have been only a couple of hours of weak sunshine, in all the time that I've been here. The rest of the time, it is cloudy and raining. It is not possible to truly dry or warm on this island. I'm actually surprised that so few inmates die of the cold. Even in the heights of summer, it is chilly. I do my best to stay warm but it's impossible. I've learned some tricks though.

I sleep on the ground under the bench. This protects me slightly from the rain, but it means lying on the ground, which is always muddy and wet. The holey blanket does nothing to keep out the wet or the cold. I only use it when I'm sleeping. So I am always shivering and always soaked to the skin. It's a relief when the clean, dry clothes come, but they are completely saturated within minutes.

When I am awake, I sit on the floor, shivering, trying not to freeze to death. I try to think of things that make me happy, but slowly, one by one, I lose faith in them and push them away. All I have left is Harry, but even the light of him dims every day. Soon it will be gone and I'll have nothing.

Every time a dementor swoops over my cage, my stomach lurches and I am filled with utter misery. All I have to do all day is watch them, so that's what I do, praying they'll stay away from me. They have a sort of mesmerising quality. But occasionally you see their true side. Sometimes, when a prisoner is very close to death, they take their chance and perform the Kiss. It's terrible to watch but I can never look away when it happens. You can see the light in the person's eyes dimming as their soul is taken. When it's over, they drop to the floor, lifeless, and that's it. The prisoners always die just a few hours or even minutes afterwards.

I am terrified that one day, the dementors will unlock my cage and swoop in and take Draco Malfoy, leaving a cold shell in his place, yet at the same time, I long for it to happen. They are the scariest things I could ever imagine. Even when I sleep I can't escape them. They penetrate my nightmares.

When they come to give me food, I shrink away until they are gone. Only then do I retrieve my meals. It is always bread, a fair amount, and a cup of water. Twice a day I get this, but it is always too much. I barely eat anything, taking only a couple of mouthfuls before flinging the bread away from my cage. I learned to do this early on. Leftover food brings the rats, and they are definitely something you don't want. On my second day here, I woke up to find a rat crawling over my face

I've grown thin. I can feel my bones when I touch my face and see my ribs clearly. But I am never hungry. My appetite has vanished, and I only eat out of habit. Not because I'm trying to survive.

The only thing that has broken the monotony of the days here is the arrival of my NEWT results. I got four Os, an E and an A, which means I could follow my chosen career as a Healer. If I wasn't here.

And I wait for this to be over. The days and weeks and months have run together but I am sure that I have been here for about half of my sentence. Even this knowledge is torture to me, because I know I have to go through this hell all over again before it will end.

And that is what really made me finally lose faith in the last thing I had left: Harry. He swore he would visit, and I know that he would be able to. They wouldn't try to stop the Saviour, would they? He can do pretty much whatever he likes, and no one will question him. If he really loved me, he would come. I bet he doesn't even care. He's probably forgotten about me by now, and is sitting at home, laughing with his friend. I'll die in here, and no one will ever remember me.

I imagine it now. Harry is sitting around a dinner table, with Ron and Hermione and others. He's snickering about someone, and I realise that it's me. He laughs about how I could ever have believed he loved me, and the others smile at the thought of Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Saviour, with Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater and Slytherin pureblood.

I snap out of the vision when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. No one moves much around here. I turn and see several dementors converging on my mother's cell.

My mother. I stare at her. She's lying on the bench as she always does, wrapped in her blanket. But her eyes are open and have an odd glazed quality to them. I can't see her chest moving. Her wispy hair floats slightly in the wind. She is completely still and very pale. I scream as hot tears spill from my eyes.

"Mother! Mother, look at me! Please, Mother, don't let... Don't let them. No!" I shriek as the Dementors unlock the cage. One drifts inside and reaches for her.

"Don't touch her! Leave her alone! No! Mother, please!" My voice trails off and I clutch at the bars, sobbing, as her limp body is lifted by one of the cloaked creatures. It carries her out of the cell and glides down the hill, oblivious to my screams. It's followed by the rest of the Dementors and I watch as the lower her into an open grave they've already dug.

"No..." I whisper as they push piles of soil into the hole, filling it up. "No!"

And just like that, my mother is gone. No goodbye, no last words. Just gone. I'll never see her again. I scream in grief until my throat is raw and sore, pulling at my hair. Then I wrap myself in the blanket and lie on the cold floor, curled in a ball, shaking with sobs. I drift in and out of sleep for hours, and the hours become days.

When I finally stop crying, I sit up slowly. I am weak and my stomach growls. Days without food have taken their toll on me, but I don't care anymore. I just sit, leaning against the bars, watching my meals being pushed into my cell and taken away when I don't touch it. I don't want to survive, to live. What's the point? I have no parents or family, no friends, nothing to live for. I'm being slowly driven mad by this place anyway. If I did make it out I'd never survive in that world.

So I sit and starve. Soon I am too weak to even stay upright, so I lie down and don't move. I just close my eyes and wait while I waste away. I can feel it coming and I'm actually looking forward to it. Anything would be better than this. I long to escape, I don't care how. As long as I get out of here, I will be happy, no matter what form my freedom takes. At least death will be peaceful, I think as I drift away, but just before everything turns black, I see a black shape enter my cell and I die terrified.

Not the last chapter! Read on...