Valerie listened to the patter of the rain, the floorboards creak under the unaccustomed weight of a stranger who'd almost smashed her skull in. She looked up and met a pair of disembodied eyes, two thin lights peering out from under a translucent white fringe. She'd thought he was a memory, the guilt-induced hallucination of a photonegative. But now…
"Why?"
A whisper, murmur of sea-spray. "…I think I loved you, once. Before. And I don't like seeing you get hurt. …home is supposed to be safe."
She raised a hand, caught the impression of a sideways smile. There was silence.
Note: Maybe a bit of a counterpoint to #11: wane.