Bellatrix's thoughts from her cell in Azkaban.
I Remember Their Eyes
Torture always seemed to come so naturally to me, whether mental or physical. I really don't know why. Not many people can say that at the age of 4, they beat a cat with a broken leg to death, with a stick. A fact that I'm quite proud of I guess.
Proud. A small word, with such a big meaning, and so many impacts. Many say I'm proud, and I can't say I don't disagree. Who wouldn't be proud of belonging to the noble house of Black (Toujours Pur), and of serving the Dark Lord in the greater good? Only the weak, good ones. The ones that I truly enjoy torturing and killing the most.
Killing is a rush. That wonderful sense of power, it runs up through the body, reaching every extremity, until your whole body is shaking in suppressed power. Seeing that wonderful green light race towards the helpless bodies, and seeing the life leave their eyes. No matter how many times, that wonderful feeling of invincibility is still there.
One of the most amazing parts is seeing the ones left behind, left to deal with the heartache and damage. There have been many funerals where I've hid in the bushes, and just secretly observed. Watched distraught family members' grieve. It would be a lie to say that I never enjoyed it. At the very least I'm being honest. In fact, my honesty in admitting to the things that I've done is the only miniscule bit of light left inside my dark, tortured soul. A tortured soul that many witches and warlocks say that they can see into, through my dark, expressionless eyes.
The eyes…truly the most expressive part of the human anatomy. Feelings, true thoughts of liars, it's all present within their eyes. One only has to look to really see…to see it as I have. To see the magnitude of fear present in the eyes of my victims, just before that wondrous green light steals it all, and they are just left with glassy, vacant stares…stares that see nothing.
I remember their eyes…I suppose I always will. The eyes of each and every victim. Young, old, weak strong…I can see them all. They watch me, staring contemptuously at me from all around. Blue, green, brown…all watch me waste away in this hell whole I now call my home. Every single pair torturing me with their glares. Even though I must live through this everyday I can't say I regret watching the light leave anyone of them.
This is what makes me truly evil, different from anyone who was with the Dark Lord for protection, or for some other reason. I enjoyed every living minute of it…the darkness surrounding me, enveloping me in its suffocating emptiness, almost like a muggle drug. So horribly addicting.
Many ask when I truly became the dark, senile woman I am now. I suppose I was just born this way, and will be this way for all of my living days. I never truly snapped, just descended slowly but surely into the realms of this infinite blackness from which I will never, ever escape. With only their eyes to keep me company…