He often hears her. Murmurs and moans. Stifled screams. Choking gasps and sobs. And he wonders if her nightmares bare any resemblance to his.
His book is cast aside, and before he fully realizes where his feet are carrying him, he is standing outside her door, heart aching at the anguished sounds of uneasy rest.
He wants nothing more than to fling open the door and wake her from her torment--to hold her close and whisper sweet assurance. To offer her the comfort he has never received.
Masked face in gloved hands.
A voice scoffs. "Comforted by the Devil? Ridiculous."