Consoler
He came into her room at night and stroked her hair as she gasped in the darkness. He told her the story of how, as a boy, he would awaken to the sounds of creaking doors and branches scratching against windows and whispered voices throughout the house, of how he awoke from a sound sleep every night at the same time, alone and afraid. He said how despair perched at the foot of his bed, the despair that comes without sleep and knew only him. At this he sighed, told her to shut her eyes, and turned out the light.