The worst part of the waiting was the boredom. At first it was easily avoidable with dreams and sleep and attempting to upset the guards, but over time those things became engulfed in it until everywhere around him and everything he did lead back to boredom. It was all consuming and infurating. No escape from the tugging feeling. It was torment! He screamed and lashed out and tore at the walls and at himself. But that, too, was consumed by it eventually.
Now he had nothing but his own mind to fill the time. Thoughts of murdering his guards, torturing their families, Mulciber's promise, his time in Azkaban, his time ruling the halls in Azkaban... Those thoughts marched around his head every day. Endless days marked only by changing of the guard and the regular bland meals. He couldn't be trusted with forks or spoons, so every meal had become a simple sandwich. Oh they knew their tortures well.
The clatter of the stone did not go unnoticed. His eyes flashed in the darkness, and with no other distractions, even a small stone had his undivided attention. Bole stood up and walked over to the door slowly, peering at the bars. Oh he knew that face!