Rodolphus could feel his mind declining, could feel his himself slipping away as the days turned to months and into years. He was daily tortured with terrifying images of Bellatrix, his master, his father, and even his own brother. The foul creatures of the prison had soon figured out his worst fears and thoughts and replayed them over and over in his mind.
The man writhed on the floor, reliving a session of torture that Bellatrix had put him through. She was glaring down at him in absolute rage, allowing her Curse to have its full effect. He shuddered at the memory, stifling a cry. She'd almost killed him that day. "Bella!" he cried out in terror, a sob escaping him. "Please!"
The memory changed, and Rodolphus cried out again at the emotional difference in the two scenes. Bellatrix lay beneath him on their bed, smirking up at him as he made love to her. She reached for him, kissing him and tugging at his hair, whispering, "You know I hate you, Master Lestrange. I would not be here if father hadn't forced me to marry. I will never give you children: your line dies with me—"
He'd slapped her, and she smiled, pressing her lips to his cheek. "You're fun to hate," she whispered as he allowed a Crucio to surge through her. She writhed beneath him on the bed and he laughed bitterly at the memory.
Yes, Bellatrix hated him: she'd made that the most obvious thing in the world. Rodolphus wrapped his arms around his knees, curled up in the darkest corner of his cell as several tears ran down his face. Angrily, he dashed them away, berating himself for being so weak. He was shaking all over, struggling to hold himself together.
The Dementors left the door of his cell when they'd finished feasting on him for the day: Rodolphus had survived another day—or night, he didn't know anymore—in Azkaban.
Rodolphus suffered through his own memories so much that he no longer cried out under the pain. He didn't feel the agony anymore, for the Dementors had made him numb to such emotions. He felt empty, almost as if he had no soul.
Whenever there was a prison inspection, he stood silently, staring out of his cell and watching. They had no business walking around free when he was locked up. When the Dark Lord returned for him and Bellatrix and Rabastan, they would pay. Rodolphus would make them suffer more than he had.
He was jeered at quite often during the inspections, as he knew he was an infamous prisoner. He didn't shout back, or scream as some of other prisoners did, though. Rodolphus merely looked at them with his dark eyes, planning their torturous deaths.
One day during an inspection, he was infuriated to see MadEye Moody there, touring the prison. The now-retired Auror had been one of several that had captured the Lestranges at their home. He went straight to the door of his cell, glaring out through the bars—and his heart nearly stopped. "Bella?"
The black-haired witch looked at him, gasping slightly. No, she wasn't Bella. But who was she? His eyes narrowed. How dare she look so much like Bella and not be her!
"Who are you?" he said hoarsely.
"I—I'm Andromeda's daughter," she said haltingly, and he understood. The bitch was the daughter of Bellatrix's disowned sister.
"Come along, Nymphadora," MadEye told her gruffly.
"Don't call me Nymphadora!" she hissed, glancing back at the man in the cell once more before hurrying after her mentor.
Rodolphus retreated to the corner of the cell, suddenly missing Bellatrix more than he had in years. The Mark was more visible on his arm, and it had been tingling with magic recently as well. All of the Death Eaters should have felt it.
Far off in the prisoner, a scream of "We will wait!" started a chain reaction of cries. Rodolphus clenched his fists that should have been crackling with fierce magic. "We will wait!" he hissed through his teeth. It was time for a change in lifestyle—it was time for the Dark Lord to return.