Frank Longbottom
He had thought that losing his mind, losing his spirit, was a fate worse than death. If he was aware of this, it would bother him, but he's not, he's not aware of anything these days, and so it doesn't.
He doesn't remember the screams, or the pain, or the absolute terror that his wife and son would be next. He doesn't remember the pleading, or the crying, or the evil laughter of his torturer. He doesn't remember anything, and if he could think, he would think that this might be a blessing. But he can't, and so it's not.