Contrary to popular belief, the days in Azkaban weren’t all the same at all. There was something, day by day, that grew. It changed, it changed me, it changed the smell of the chains, the shadows on the walls. Its game was cruel; all started with pain, suffering, guilt.
The day after, the visions had disappeared. There were no more Jamie and Remie, but only fear; the purest, ancestral fear, the terror that stank in my breath, perhaps even more sickening than those rotten mouths.
The day after that day, the fear no longer had power over me. Something that seemed to have the traits of a melody had taken its place. First floor, hissing. Then loud, screaming. It scratched my heart, kept me alive with those few bits of soul left.
Then night fell and the music faded. It no longer screamed or hissed. Now it was still, like a sea without more seamen to kill; so, without a good reason to unleash storm, in short. Now it was arrogant in me, but without violence. It hurt me a lot more, because it started caressing me softly.
Pansexual Monster Girl 