The Darkness Inside

Every night when she fell asleep, the dark shadows normally locked behind her eyes shifted and moved. They would flow like ink, pooling in her pillow until they took shape, becoming the demons I knew them to be. She was adept at concealing them; only someone who knew to look could tell they were mocking her from the back of her mind.

I was certain she had no idea that they did this. They sat, staring at me, their black eyes intent. I knew they were waiting, expecting me to sleep.

My own demons would join them when I did.

I waved the devils aside and took her in my arms, holding her close. She made a soft, contented sound and relaxed against me, safe and warm. Did they torment her when she was alone? It made sense. I glared at them, but they only grinned back.

As I drifted into sleep, I imagined I could feel my own darkness slipping out of me. The mocking laughter faded away as like called to like. I held her closer, a silent promise to protect her as long as I was there.

This happened more and more frequently, as I stayed with her more often. She slept better for it, and I liked holding her in my arms. That our demons got along with each other was an odd sort of bonus. They tormented her less, and sometimes it seemed as if her eyes were less shadowed.

She was up later than usual one night, a haunted look in her eyes, the darkness back in full force. When I asked her what was wrong, she shook her head, unwilling to discuss it just then. I wasn't happy, but I didn't press the issue; she would tell me when she was ready.

A few days later, after a particularly restless night, she sat across from me, absently stirring her drink, watching the steam rise. I'll never forget the things she said that morning. She told me about her past, the things that haunted her, that kept her awake and never let her rest. Her eyes were downcast, and she gave me a sad sort of smile, as if she expected me to be scared off, or disappointed, or whatever else the men before me had put her through.

She told me about the one who assaulted her, and stalked her. She told me about the one who cheated on her, used her and left her when he was through. She spoke of her mother's abuse, and how unwanted she had been. How she sometimes still felt that no one wanted her, that she was a failure. How she'd been abandoned when she needed support the most.

Everyone has their demons, and I told her as much. I didn't tell her that I'd known, maybe not what they were, but certainly that they existed.

Then I reached across the table and took her hands in mine, squeezing them gently. "Your demons don't scare me," I told her. She smiled, and I could see a spark of light in her eyes, driving the demons away.

Would she be frightened by mine? Somehow, I didn't think so.