You can't remember anything but this. Somehow, though, that doesn't surprise you at all.
There have been Dementors, three of them, outside your cell all night. You draw back to the wall as far as you can, but it's not far enough. They can still reach you, their long, cold fingers caressing the side of your face.
It is the touch of a lover, though they do not love. It is the simple desire to feed.
Animals, enticed by the thought of unbridled joy.
It feels like falling, almost, what happens to your mind.
They are so cold, you wonder if they are brittle.
Perhaps they break?
But you haven't the strength right now.
Maybe by morning.
But the sun peeks out over the distant horizon even as the thought crosses your mind.
The Dementors draw back, and you hear footsteps in the distance, even, rhythmic.
step step step step step step step step step step
They stop, and there is a shadow over you, and you turn.
Her wand is steady between your eyes. She has had enough of fun, and now there must be business.
"Still no?"
You shake your head...
...the world goes green...
...and you die with the knowledge that your mind, if nothing else, is still your own.
Fin