Disclaimer: I don't own HP.
Author's Note: This is a drabble. Drabbles are only 100 words. So, therefore, this is supposed to be short. No further chapter planned.
Sirius reached over and crossed out another day on the makeshift calendar he made on the dirty walls of his cell in Azkaban. He had
officially been here for thirteen years.
He remembered the transformation from popular, normal citizen, to hated criminal… It hurt to pay for something you didn't do.
Scattered editions of the Daily Prophet lined the walls, bristling when the Dementors would glide by, giving him warning to close his eyes and hide his last happy thoughts before they were sucked into the dark abyss.
I'll escape soon, he told himself, and I'll live a happy life…