Wake up, pace around the tiny cell, pace around the even smaller bathroom, yell senselessly, punch and kick at the walls and bars, remember, feel the guilt, the pain, the agony ripping you apart, every second stretching out into eternity, think of Draco, think of Ron, of Harry, of torturing Izabella Black and Blaise Zabini to death, of gouging out their eyes, flaying them and hanging them with their own skin, fear it will be the day when the Dementors Kiss you without seeing Draco again, panic, choke, cry, suffocate, notice the day came to an end. Repeat. A gruesome routine. Agony. Terror. Soul-crushing guilt. Mind-numbing hatred. 