Warnings: Character death, suicide
Pairings: Bellatrix/Rodolphus, implied Bellatrix/Voldemort
His hands were bloodied from the hours he had spent striking the stone walls of his cell in what he knew was a foolish and fruitless endevour. No one could save him now. His Master was dead. His wife was dead.
The dementors barely passed him this time around. He was already too broken for them to feed on, he had already succumbed to the darkness of his own mind. Sometimes he wished that they had given him the kiss upon arrival, then he wouldn't be able to think or feel and perhaps he could actually find peace. He knew it would never happen. He was evil to them, scum of the Earth. He deserved to suffer and rot in a prison both physical and mental. He wasn't really evil. He didn't think so. He did evil things, of course, but it wasn't that he wanted to hurt people. He was only showing his devotion to his darling wife, he was only honouring his vows to follow her wherever she may go. He thought it was the right thing to do. They disagreed.
He stopped eating a long time ago. The grey slop that they would push through his bars was left ignored until they came to collect the plates. He has considered smashing a plate before and using the shards to end his life, but he knew they would stop him before they could. He didn't even deserve death. Starving himself was slower, and more painful, and many days he had to fight the urge to give up. But he never did. He wondered if they would start force feeding him soon and deny him the luxury of death once more. But they didn't seem to care when he started shrinking in his clothes, and when his face became gaunt.
He used to be handsome. In his youth he had legions of girls, and a few boys, following his every movement. Envisioning him in their arms. They thought he could be their Prince Charming. They never realised that he was more suited to playing the villian. Bellatrix did. Thats why she chose him, because she was the same. He remembers her beauty sometimes. He remembers her in youth with her beautiful black hair and wicked dark eyes and full lips and amazing figure, and he remembers her after their first stay in Azkaban when the foul place had torn it all away. But the fire in her soul, the thing he loved most about her, remained, and he still loved her. He felt the coldness creep up on him. The dementors would be coming to steal that memory away.
Maybe she didn't always love him. It seemed that when the Dark Lord entered their lives that she drifted away from him, she stopped loving him. He questioned her faith then, and he still questions it now, but he will never know the answer because the two people he gave his love and loyalty to are both dead, and they are the only ones who could hold the answers. He doesn't mind really, he still loves her.
Death isn't coming quick enough. He wonders if God has punished him with the curse of immortality, then shakes it off as a stupid idea. He laughs to himself, although he barely has the voice nor the strength to do so. It's ironic, really. Immortality was the thing he spent his life searching for, the thing he had risked his life to find, the ultimate gift, only a few years ago, and now it would be the worst of all punishments. But he would never have wanted immortality, if he couldn't share it with his Bellatrix. And now he can't.
He makes a decision when breakfast comes around. He will end it now. He can end all of his suffering with a little cut, if he is quick enough and if he is accurate enough. He lifts the plate and drops it, and shards of glass shatter across the floor. Already he can hear footsteps coming quickly towards his cell. He lifts the shard, he slashes it down over his arm hoping that he has hit the mark. His eyes are blurry, but he can see crimson. It has always been his favourite colour. He laughs as his vision begins to cloud.
He wakes up in another cell with bandages on his arms and a guard, a human minstry official, at the door. The next time his breakfast comes, it is on a paper plate.
He wants to die.
He wants to die.
He wants to die.
He can try to escape, and hope they hit him with the killing curse, but he knows that they won't. He could jump into the frigid ocean that surrounds the prison, but the windows aren't big enough for him to fit through, even when he's so malnourished. If Bellatrix were here, she'd know what to do. But she's not.
Salvation offers itself to him in winter, when the wind is high and the waves crash violently against the prison. The walls tremble and flake, and a sharp shard of stone clatters to the ground. He looks towards the guard that stands vigil over him, and by luck he is sleeping. He does not stir when he slides off the cot and crosses the room to where the stone lies. He lifts it and it glints in the moonlight. He laughs quietly. This is it. He will be with his Bellatrix soon.
Sorry about the shortness of this little one-shot, I was just hit with this idea so decided to write it. Hope you enjoyed it. Leave a review if you did :)
~SaiyanGirl692~