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She cries out in the night.

Screams, more like.

She never says anything to give me any idea what’s going on inside what I’m sure is a beautiful mind, but the noises she makes sound tortured.

Noises I know all too well from my past.

Standing over her bed and watching her probably isn’t the best idea, but I’ve lived in this house my entire life. I know its shadows better than anyone.

She won’t see me.

And if she does, she’ll think she was dreaming.

Tonight’s the worst I’ve seen her.

Her body writhes on the bed, and her cries of anguish tell of horrors torturing her psyche while she tries to rest.

It must be exhausting to try to outrun whatever monsters are chasing her.

I know it is, but I stopped running a long time ago and let them have me. Blended into them, became one with them.

Back arching off the bed, she screams again.

This time, when the moonlight flickers over her, I can see tears glistening on her cheeks.

I long to go to her. To tell her it’ll all be alright.

But it won’t.

I know that better than anyone.

Sighing, I step closer, skirting the edge of darkness veiling me to get a better look at her.

Her hair is light brown, and streaks of amber flicker in it in the moonlight when she turns over. I know her eyes are as dark as night because I’ve been watching her move around the house when she thinks she’s alone.

Kyrin urged me to stay away from her while she cleaned up the mess I made of the company, but having someone in my space had intrigued me.

The last girl he sent ran from this estate and its ghosts months ago, and I don’t know that she’ll ever recover.

I tried to tell Kyrin that the same would happen to her.

Even now, I feel the looming echoes of reveries crawling the walls, lurking near the ceilings, watching and waiting for weakness so they can devour her whole.

I don’t know that I’ll save her.

I find I rather like to watch them break; their fear coats the estate with life, and it’s like I’m not alone in my madness.

Her beauty is drowned beneath all the heavy sorrow weighing on her, but it’s what calls to me when I’ve been so lost of late.

Something catches my eye outside the door. A swathe of white as the train of a dress passes the frame.

The lingering scent of peonies drifts through the door, curling sadness in my chest, and I forget about the beautiful, dangerous girl writhing in agony on the bed and move toward it.

The dress moves around the end of the hall, beckoning me with its song.

My feet drift me away from the brutality of what lies in the nightmare Seraphine is locked in, and I try so hard to find what I’ve been chasing through this estate for years.

Solace.