He opened the door, not knowing what chaos would occur in front of him. The sight of the room caught him off his guard and he felt his heart wrenching. Because, out of all the shuttered glasses on the floor, the upturned tables, the ripped sheets and the wrecked frames on the walls, the only thing utterly broken was her. Curled in a ball on the tatty carpet, hands on her head, weeping. And, right there, he felt something unknown 'til then to him. A pain, buried into the deepest parts of his soul. So intense, he could only let it consume him. There was something else, too. Fear. Fear of the damage her horrors had caused her.
His body, then, overtook his mind and he found himself kneeling beside her, his arms wrapped around her constantly shaking torso. No word came out of him. No tear run down his cheeks. No soothing gesture he made towards her. He just hold her tight, bringing her steadiness, as she rocked back and forward, her moans ripping his ears. And he stayed. No matter how her cries turned minutes into ages. He stayed until her eyes were drained and her voice had cracked. Until every last bit of energy had left her body. Until her rapid breathing was the only sound left. And he didn't dare move from that very position, her head on his shoulder, still hugging her closely, not an inch looser.
Only hours later, he decided to lift her up and very carefully, as if something extremely fragile, lay her on the bed. One of the few things still standing. He sat beside her, the images of the past hours invading his mind. Filled with the sorrow that was brought upon her. The quiet walls echoing those human sounds, which were, at the same time, no human at all. They had come out of her. How distant all these seemed, now, that she was asleep. It really hit him the way she looked so calm, knowing himself the fire that burned down her entrails. But her face showed nothing anymore. The pain. The sadness. The anger. Everything had vanished. If anything left, was a wrecked room, he and
the untold story of a broken girl.