Who Would Have Guessed?
By mist-chan
I'm taking a deep breath.
My handwriting is shaky on this stupid piece of parchment. I hate
it. My hand used to be graceful, my
writing perfect cursive. I used to love
that about myself.
But anyway.
I don't know if anyone will ever read this. My mind is falling apart. I can't think anymore. But I smuggled this quill and parchment in
because I had to write my last words. I
had to write what was in my mind before I blanked out.
In Azkaban, you have a lot of time to think about
things. There's not much else to
do. It's like a time out for
grownups. But you think so hard about
things. You question yourself, you scold yourself. But mostly, you just think,
to hold on to something, anything,
that would remind you of yourself. So
the dementors don't get you. The
dementors… oh God, those things… they're not even things. They're horrifying, horrifying. And there's no
one here for me. I'm all alone.
All alone with the dementors…
Oh, if you could only read this. I don't know what will become of you. My tears are all dried up. I can't cry anymore. My son, I love you. How could you do this to us? And yet I love you. You've ruined my life and yet I love you.
That must be what's keeping me alive.
A man who came in here the day after I did, he's dead now,
gone. They got him. He screamed all night. All night. He
screamed. Horrible, heart wrenching
screamed. The poor
man. I wanted to reach out and
give him my hand, embrace him, and tell him…
What would – what could
I have told him? I couldn't,
anyway. The dementors stopped me. I hid in the corner of the tiny cell and
wrapped my arms around my knees and sobbed.
I sobbed with that man.
Oh, God. Life was so
perfect before this. Why do I have to
have such a good heart? Why?!
To all of you. My husband, my son, Winky. I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
I don't know what will happen in the future. Maybe my son will come back and be okay
again. Maybe life will be fine.
But I don't think I can last that long. So I've written this down now. As an apology. As my last words.
And my last question, that leaves
me sitting up at night, wondering, sobbing, racking my brain through and
through about: who would have guessed?
Yes, indeed. Who
would have guessed, that I, Mrs. Barty Crouch, would have ended up in Azkaban.
