A faint, humorless smile touched the corner of his mouth. It didn't reach his eyes, didn't carry any real amusement, just a dark acknowledgment of possibility. "If you did, I'd probably deserve it."
"That's not an answer."
"No," he admitted, the smile fading like morning mist. "I'm awake because you're afraid. And because I know what the nightmares look like after someone's been through what you have." His voice dropped, becoming rough and quiet, the words meant only for her, intimate in their brutality. "The silver, the cage, the dark... it leaves marks you can't see. Scars that bleed in dreams. I gave you those scars. The least I can do is stand watch while you try to sleep through them."
The words landed softly, but their weight was immense. They were an offering, unexpected and raw, an admission of guilt without the shield of excuses.
