He was sure it was his voice, his screams he could hear, but something wasn't quite right. They were load, they were always load, and painful, as if the nightmares, the memories had to hurt him physically as much as they did emotionally.

Why was this so different? He couldn't remember, his nightmare and sleep dazed mind couldn't remember what was different about this scream, this night.

Then he heard it, behind the screaming.

The slow, whispering.

Then he felt it, the warm breath in his arm and the soft skin.

The difference? She was there.