(no subject)
Fawcett,
So, I know you're mad. You made that abundantly clear. It's not exactly how all it seems, but I don't really feel like explaining it right now. I've been through the ringer and back lately with the court and such, my mind's so spent on thinking about what happened. They know everything now, and I want to tell you that so you know that everything is going to be worked out, and that I'm so sorry about everything and I told them that too.
I'm in prison now. I don't know if you knew that. It's strange. I feel strange, and, well, out of sorts. I know there aren't Dementors here anymore, but there's something eerie... no, more than that. Something feels rotten here. I guess that's the point of prison though.
It's my first night in. They said I can write, but they'll read everything that goes in and out. There's a woman next to my cell, she already told me that I 'smell like a traitor'. I wanted to say something back but they told me I'll lose privileges if I pick fights or whatever; Privileges meaning writing and receiving mail. I know you probably don't want to, but please write me back. You probably read in the papers or something already, but I'm in for a few years; so it'd be really great if we could keep in contact. It's getting too dark to see now and I'm getting scared.
Write Back,
Happy Holidays,
Sally-Anne