Monster in Disguise

14. Catalina

Catalina

R estlessness consumes me, causing my body to shift and twist in my bed. I've been trying to fall asleep for what feels like hours, but my mind refuses to let go of today's events. The mere mention of that name, after all this time, sends a shiver down my spine.

I shake my head vigorously, trying to dispel the intrusive thoughts that threaten to overwhelm me. I can't allow myself to be consumed by the past again. I've worked too hard to move on.

But still, I can't help but wonder why now...

Why did he resurface after all these years? Sisi was right; it can't be a coincidence that these events have occurred so closely together. My mind races with possibilities and questions, but I push them aside, refusing to give in to their tempting pull.

There is one silver lining in all of this chaos—Sisi is finally able to live with us. For years, I had known deep down that she didn't want that type of life. But back then she had no choice.

Now, her freedom brings me immense joy and relief. We had stayed in touch after I left Sacre Coeur, and through our conversations, I could sense her sadness at being alone there.

But now, she has her family with her. Venezia's behavior towards Sisi—and even towards me—has surprised me. She greeted her long-lost sister with overwhelming happiness, and they immediately hit it off as if they had never been apart.

Perhaps our heart-to-heart conversation from the other day had an impact on her after all.

Finally realizing that sleep is not forthcoming, I decide to go to the kitchen and make myself a chamomile tea. One glance at the clock and I see that it's past four A.M. I purse my lips, frustrated once again that I've not been able to get any sleep. Maybe a hot cup of tea will help me.

I leave my room and try to be as quiet as possible when I make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. The house is so quiet, it's almost eerie. I rummage through the cupboards until I find some tea and I put a kettle on.

Waiting, I tap my foot and look around. The kitchen is modern and seeing all the appliances makes me think of baking duty. Maybe we could do that again and include Venezia too. I smile. That sure sounds good. It would be like a bonding exercise.

A clicking sound signals that the water is done, so I pour it in a cup. I'm about to take it with me back to my room when I hear an odd noise.

I frown.

It sounds like someone screaming in pain.

Leaving the cup behind, I go towards the direction of the noise. The closer I get, however, the more I realize that I'm heading towards Marcello's room. I take a few more steps and I stop. I hold my breath, trying to focus on the noise.

Maybe I misheard?

But then I hear it again, this time more intense. It's such an anguished sound, like someone being tortured.

In front of Marcello's door, I hesitate. The weight of my decision sits heavily on my chest, unsure if he would appreciate my intrusion.

The chorus of pained cries from inside only deepens my apprehension. My hands clench and unclench as I listen, but ultimately I know I have to check up on him. If he's fine, I'll apologize and leave. That seems like the best course of action.

Taking a deep breath, I reach for the doorknob and push the door open. The room is noticeably smaller than any others I've seen in this grand house. It's also quite bare, save for a lone table tucked away in the corner. But my attention is immediately drawn to Marcello.

He's caught in the grips of a nightmare.

His body thrashes about on the bed, tangled in sheets that cling to his sweating skin. Cries escape his lips as he struggles against whatever demons are plaguing his dreams. With each moan, he pulls at the blanket covering him until it falls down to reveal his naked form.

I quickly avert my eyes, heat rising in my cheeks. This was not what I expected to see when I entered his room. Guilt washes over me for invading his privacy, so I take a step back, ready to retreat.

But then another pained moan escapes his lips and I freeze. "Please no," he murmurs, curled up into a fetal position. My heart breaks for him, seeing him so vulnerable and tormented by whatever is haunting him in his sleep.

What could he be dreaming about?

My heart aches as I listen to Marcello's pained moans. I can't just leave him like this; I have to try and help him. With a deep breath, I gather my courage and enter the room, closing the door behind me. Keeping my distance, remembering his aversion to touch, I carefully sit on the edge of the bed.

"Marcello," I whisper, hoping to rouse him from his restless slumber. "Marcello, wake up."

He stirs slightly, but remains lost in his nightmares.

"Marcello?" I raise my voice, trying to reach him through his troubled dreams.

He trembles and whispers "no" with a pleading tone. My heart breaks at the sight of him; he looks so helpless and vulnerable. Acting on instinct, I gently place a hand on his shoulder and call out to him again.

"Marcello, please wake up." This time, I speak in a softer tone, hoping to soothe his tormented mind. "It's just a dream, please wake up."

I wait for a few seconds before attempting to wake him once more.

"Marcello," I begin, but before I can finish my sentence, his eyes snap open and lock onto mine. Relief washes over me as I see that he is finally awake. "Marcello? Thank God." I let out a sigh of relief and start to stand up.

But before I can move away from the bed, Marcello's hand shoots out and grabs onto my arm tightly.

"Marcello?" I ask tentatively as his skin makes contact with mine. Looking up at him, I see that he is still staring at me with an almost puzzled expression.

"I'm sorry for barging in like this," I quickly apologize, hoping he won't misinterpret my intentions. "You were having a nightmare and screaming; I couldn't just leave you like that. I'm sorry."

He tilts his head to the side and squints at me, his grip on my arm only tightening.

In this moment, he looks almost intimidating and scary.

"Marcello," I plead, my voice shaking as I try to pry his fingers off my arm. My heart races as he doesn't budge, instead pulling me towards the bed with a tight grip.

I stumble and fall onto the mattress, barely missing landing on top of him. Fear courses through me as I look into his eyes, but they are vacant, as if he's not really seeing me.

My mind races, trying to understand why he's doing this. Is he angry with me for coming into his room? Or is he still in some kind of trance?

I reach out tentatively, placing my hand on his arm to test his reaction. He looks at it briefly but seems unaffected.

Gathering my courage, I trace my hand up his arm and to his jawline, feeling the warmth of his skin for the first time. "Marcello, please wake up," I whisper softly, my fingers gently caressing his cheek.

He jerks at the touch but doesn't pull away. His brows furrow, and he stares at me with confusion, as if the sensation is unfamiliar to him.

"Marcello," I continue, mustering my courage. "Could you let go of my arm?"

He frowns again, but instead of releasing me, he pulls me closer until our bodies are touching.

My face is mere inches away from his, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. The intensity of his gaze holds me captive, a heat emanating from his dark eyes that I had never seen before.

Instinctively, I reach for his shoulder and give him a gentle shove, hoping to break free from his grasp. But instead, his hold on me only tightens, causing my body to react with a mix of fear and arousal. A slight tremble runs through my limbs as I struggle against him.

"Marcello, please let me go!" I demand firmly, trying to break free once more.

"Shh," he finally speaks, placing a single finger on my lips to shush me. I gasp in shock at the unexpected touch. What is he doing?

His gaze shifts to my lips, and I feel his fingers tracing their shape, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. As I open my mouth to speak again, he covers it with his own soft lips, silencing me completely.

A wave of sensation washes over me as I try to make sense of what is happening. His lips are gentle yet insistent, leaving me almost powerless under their touch. But as much as I want to give in to the pleasure, my conscience pulls me back, and I push at his shoulders in protest.

To my surprise, his lips part, and I feel the warm intrusion of his tongue seeking entrance into my mouth. Is this really happening? My mind races with confusion as his tongue dances against mine, eliciting a shiver down my spine.

Out of curiosity, I tentatively touch my own tongue to his, and a spark ignites between us that only fuels the fire burning within me.

Lord!

My hands, once firm in pushing him away, now cling to his shoulders, seeking closer contact. My mind tells me to stop, but my body betrays me as I press myself against him.

His arm wraps around my waist and pulls me onto his lap, our bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. His fingers dig into my flesh as the kiss deepens, sending shivers down my spine.

Lost in the moment, I can't think straight, so I just hold on to him with all my might. His teeth graze my bottom lip, and I let out a low moan.

Marcello's hands trail lower until they reach the curve of my hips under my nightgown. He cups my bottom, pulling me even closer to him.

I gasp for air, my heart racing as I melt into the kiss once more. But then I feel something hard pressing against me, and panic sets in.

No... Not that!

With a surge of strength that surprises even myself, I push him away and scramble off the bed. My cheeks are flushed, and my breath comes in quick gasps as I try to compose myself.

"I'm sorry... I..." I shake my head, struggling to calm down. "It just reminded me of something and... I didn't mean to..." My attempts at explaining fall short as I struggle to find the right words.

Frustration builds inside me, and I clench my fists.

My voice catches in my throat as I try to speak, turning to face Marcello, who is lying on his side, eyes closed and chest rising and falling with each steady breath. He's sleeping?

My confusion morphs into amusement at the irony of the situation. Here I was, about to open up my heart to him, and he's completely unaware, peacefully lost in slumber. I shake my head with a smile and reluctantly make my way out of the room.

Lying back in my bed, I can't help but replay the events in my head. The touch of his lips against mine, the warmth of his embrace, all so new and foreign yet undeniably... satisfying. I struggle to find the right words to describe it. It had been an experience unlike anything I'd felt before.

And now, lying here alone with my thoughts, I can't help but feel a sense of giddiness at the memory. So this is what it feels like to be kissed...

A soft giggle escapes my lips as I think about it. It hadn't disappointed in the slightest. Maybe there is hope for us after all, if we take things slow. My mind races with possibilities and hopes for the future as sleep slowly takes over me.

Sisi's eyes widen in wonder as she gazes at her reflection in the mirror. She is wearing a deep blue gown that reaches her ankles, a stark contrast to her usual habit. I can't help but smile at her, knowing how uncomfortable she must feel in something so different from what she's used to.

"It looks amazing on you," I say with genuine admiration. "Definitely take it."

Sisi turns to me, a hint of uncertainty in her expression. "You think so?"

I nod eagerly. "Absolutely."

Claudia chimes in, mouth full of chocolate and eyes sparkling with excitement. "I agree, Aunt Sisi. You look like a princess!"

Sisi laughs and spins around, admiring herself from every angle. "I should get it in other colors too," she muses out loud.

"Good idea," I reply, already imagining how stunning she would look in various shades of the same dress.

We make our way to the check-out counter, our small group surrounded by discreet bodyguards. After paying for our purchases, we head to another store where we can buy some much-needed electronics for both girls. Marcello had given us free rein with our spending, and I am grateful for his generosity.

As we browse through laptops and phones, Claudia excitedly tells us about the ring she bought from a street stall earlier. She had been obsessed with it ever since. But that doesn't trump her love for chocolate—her newest addiction.

Though I'd like nothing more than to indulge her, we'll need to have a conversation about enjoying everything in moderation.

After finishing our shopping, we head back home with our bags filled with new clothes and gadgets. The girls chat away happily while I try my best to hide my nerves. I hadn't seen Marcello since morning, and we haven't had a chance to discuss what happened between us last night.

As much as I try to distract myself with this shopping trip, my mind keeps wandering back to our conversation, and I can't help but feel a tinge of nervousness. What if he regrets what happened? I push the thought away, not wanting to imagine how that conversation would go.

Once back home, the girls are giddy about their new purchases and they gather to play on the computers. Venezia seems reluctant to join them at first, and I think she feels like an outsider, considering that Claudia and Sisi grew up together.

I gently nudge her, trying to encourage her to join in on the fun as well. She gives me a hesitant smile, her eyes full of longing as she watches Sisi and Claudia.

"I don't know..." She shrugs, but I can see the inner turmoil playing across her features.

"Go ahead. You're family too," I urge her, knowing how much it means to be included in this tight-knit group.

After a moment of hesitation, she finally gives in and joins the festivities.

As I turn to go back inside, Amelia stops me in my tracks.

"Signora Catalina, Signor Marcello wants to see you in his study." My heart skips a beat and I hold my breath.

"Did he say why?" I ask, already dreading the answer.

"No, he did not."

Taking a deep breath, I decide it's best to face whatever confrontation awaits me now rather than let my mind run wild with imagined scenarios later.

With determined steps, I make my way to Marcello's study.

He is sitting behind his desk, engrossed in a document with a pair of glasses perched on his nose. Startled by my entrance, he quickly removes them and folds them neatly on the table.

"Catalina. I didn't expect you so soon," he says, motioning towards the seat across from him. With a heavy heart, I take a seat and prepare myself for whatever is about to come next.

As soon as I sit down, I feel the words bubbling up inside of me, desperate to be released. "I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I shouldn't have..."

"What are you talking about?" He frowns, leaning forward with a look of confusion on his face.

"Last night, I shouldn't have..." I trail off, my heart racing as I wait for his response.

He tilts his head to the side, studying me as if I'm speaking a foreign language. "Catalina, what happened last night?" he asks again, genuine concern now evident in his voice.

Does he not remember our encounter? My mind races, trying to come up with an explanation for his apparent amnesia.

"Why did you call me here?" I quickly change the subject in an attempt to divert attention away from my slip of the tongue.

"I wanted to talk to you about the governess matter," he says and pauses, catching on to my evasion tactics. "What were you sorry about? Did something happen?"

I hastily backtrack, hoping to avoid any further incrimination. "I meant this morning," I amend. "I'm sorry I spent so much money."

His expression softens as he immediately reassures me. "I told you to get whatever you need. You don't have to worry about money."

A pang of guilt hits me for lying. But if he doesn't remember... maybe it was all a mistake? Maybe he was asleep and didn't intend for it to happen? But that makes me feel even more guilty for intruding in his room in the first place.

"What about the governess then?" I steer the conversation back on track, eager to focus on something else. We spend the next few minutes discussing potential candidates and scheduling interviews.

"Today?" I ask hesitantly, caught off guard by the sudden urgency in his tone.

"I've been putting this off for too long," he admits with a heavy sigh. "I didn't realize how bad things were with Venezia before. She doesn't even know how to read."

My frown deepens at his revelation. "She doesn't know how to read?" I repeat, shocked by the news.

"No one showed an interest in her before... And she's fifteen. I never imagined the situation would be so bad," he confesses. "Assisi and Claudia should also benefit from it since they haven't exactly had a normal education."

"Yes. Claudia is still young, but Sisi... I'm worried about how she will adjust to living outside of the convent."

"I didn't know she disliked it in there so much..." He shakes his head. "If you'd like to be present for the interview, I have three candidates coming in a few hours."

I readily agree.

"Great. Meet me in," he looks at his watch, "two hours in the drawing room?"

I nod and go back to my room to change.

When I go down to the drawing room a while later, Marcello is already there, a newspaper on his lap.

"The first candidate should be here in ten minutes," he casually mentions when I take a seat next to him. He seems to be totally indifferent to me, and I curse myself for even contemplating that we could be something more. It doesn't help that now I know what his touch feels like, what his lips on mine can make me feel.

I let out a long sigh, telling myself to forget everything. It's just not meant to be.

The first candidate comes in, and Marcello grills her on her experience. He does the same to the second and the third candidate, and we ultimately agree none of them would fit.

"Why is this so hard?" He groans when we get a small break before the last person is supposed to come in.

"I can't believe how snobbish they were," I'm already frustrated with the process. They'd all scoffed at the fact that Venezia is fifteen with no formal education. Marcello had guided the interview so they could show their true colors, having already had an awful experience with Venezia's last governess.

Amelia announces that the last candidate is ready to come in. She looks to be around mid-thirties, definitely younger than the others before her. She takes a seat in front of us, and we proceed with the standard questions. Her answers are on point, and I give Marcello a slow nod. She even got the tricky questions right.

"One last thing," I add, wanting to be perfectly sure about this. "Since the three of them are in different age ranges and require different curriculums, how would you plan on making lessons cohesive so they also don't feel isolated?" I'm hoping some shared lessons would help them bond with each other. God knows, Venezia really needs it.

"Yes, of course. While perusing the job advertisement, I took the opportunity to draw up a mock schedule." She rummages through her dossier and stands up to hand us a sheet of paper. She goes directly to Marcello, however, when I was the one who asked the question. I try not to show my slight annoyance at this, but I feel better when Marcello shakes his head and motions towards me.

The woman's smile is tight as she hands me the schedule. I look carefully, liking what I'm seeing. The shared time would be during art and etiquette classes. The plan is detailed enough that I can get a feeling of what she would teach them.

"Very well." I share a look with Marcello and he agrees.

"When can you start?" He asks, and she beams.

"Anytime."

"Even tomorrow?"

"Yes."

We spend some time sketching out the details, and Sarah, the governess, would get her own teaching room on the third floor, and free rein to use any resources she may need.

After she leaves, I sigh in relief.

"I'm so glad we found someone," I say out loud, to no one in particular.

I turn my head and catch Marcello's intense gaze fixed upon me. His lips are curved into a slight smile, revealing a hint of his dimples. My heart flutters as our eyes meet, but then he suddenly averts his gaze, causing a rush of disappointment to flood through me.

"Indeed," he says and quickly leaves the room.

A gentle knock on my door startles me from my morning routine. Amelia's voice rings out, announcing a delivery for me. Confused, I make my way to the doorway and watch as a few men lug two colossal boxes into my room, their muscles straining under the weight.

"Do you know what this is?" I ask Amelia, but she simply shakes her head and leaves me to tend to the mysterious delivery.

With growing curiosity, I grab a pair of scissors and carefully cut through the top layer of the first box. As soon as I catch a glimpse of its contents, my breath hitches in my throat. It's a sewing machine, complete with all necessary accessories—needles, thread, scissors... everything. My mind reels at such an extravagant gift.

Eagerly, I turn to the second box wondering what other treasures it holds within its tightly packed walls.

"Oh my goodness," I gasp in awe as I peer inside. Yards upon yards of fabric lie before me, each one carefully folded and arranged by color and type. It's a seamstress's dream come true.

After unloading all items from the boxes, I discover a note tucked away amidst the fabrics.

It's from Marcello. "I hope this allows you to pursue your passions," it reads simply.

Overwhelmed with emotion, I bring a hand up to cover my trembling lips. He remembered our conversation...and he went above and beyond to surprise me with this thoughtful gesture.

I can hardly believe it as I begin assembling the sewing machine and examining all of its accompanying tools. With each passing moment, my heart swells with gratitude for such a kind and generous gift.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I stare at the beautiful gift in front of me. No one had ever given me something so thoughtful and meaningful before. Growing up, my parents had made it clear that I was not a priority in their lives. I found solace in my teachers and the staff, but they were far from being a real family to me.

My only true companion was Enzo, my father's heir, but he had his own responsibilities and I rarely saw him. He would visit a few times a year, while the rest of the time he was off in Sicily fulfilling his duties.

Feeling overwhelmed with emotion, I wiped at the tears with the hem of my dress. I knew I had to thank Marcello for this incredible gift.

Quickly getting to my feet, I rushed down the stairs and headed towards Marcello's office, hoping to find him there. But he's nowhere to be found.

Turning to make my way back upstairs, I run into Sarah.

"Mrs. Lastra," she greets me, and I give her an absent smile.

"Sarah," I incline my head, not really paying much attention.

"I just finished the lesson with Claudia. She's such a bright young lady," she comments, and I instantly become alert.

"She is, isn't she?" I say affectionately. "Thank you for doing this. I'm sure she's going to learn a lot from you," I add. But then I get a better look at Sarah, and I have to blink twice.

She's wearing a low-cut top, and her breasts are practically hanging out of it. I have to snap my eyes to her face and force myself to keep them there. Is that how people dress these days? I mean, it's getting warm outside, so maybe this is summer fashion.

It doesn't help that she's paired the top with a very short skirt.

Although I'm a little surprised by how little clothing she's wearing, I try to pretend that I don't notice. She can wear whatever she wants, but I might have a talk with Claudia so she doesn't get any ideas from it. I don't think I'm ready for my daughter emulating that quite yet.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She takes her leave, and I go back to my room.

I install everything nicely, and when Claudia comes by, I ask her to model for me. I think Marcello noticed her love of pink because a lot of the fabrics are different shades of that color.

We spend the rest of the day playing with fabrics, and Assisi and Venezia join us a little later.

Over the next few days, I continue to invite them so we can spend time together bonding. Venezia seems to have thawed towards Claudia. Sisi, being Sisi, has gone a little crazy over her computer, and she rarely takes a break from it.

She's been reading up on everything and anything. The lessons have helped them, and I've even noticed Venezia make an effort to learn her letters. After her hours with Sarah, I try to go over the material again with her. She needs all the help now until she can grasp the basics.

I have to admit that Sarah is doing a magnificent job with the girls, even if her clothes seem to become shorter and shorter. Maybe it's just me, but sometimes I can't help but stare at her. I'm glad Marcello is mostly away because wouldn't it be embarrassing for him to see her like this? I shake my head at the thought.

I've seen little of him lately. I thanked him for the gift, but his response had been perfunctory at best, and he'd hurried to leave the house.

The entire week passes in a blur. The girls are either at their lessons or keeping me company while I try to make a dress for Claudia.

I'd been hoping to show my progress to Marcello too, but he's always absent. Well, today I know for sure he is at home. I sigh deeply and look at the bodice I'd sewn together. It looks nice for a first attempt. I remove the safety pins and take it with me downstairs.

I'm about to knock on the door of his study when I hear voices.

"The girls are doing great. Thank you, Sarah," Marcello tells her in his usual monotonous tone.

He's busy... It wouldn't be right of me to eavesdrop. I take a step back, intent on leaving them to chat and coming back later. But then I hear Sarah speak.

"There are ways to thank me," she says, and I still. Her voice is completely different from the one she's used with me or the girls. It's high-pitched and...

"I think your salary shows my wife's and my appreciation," Marcello replies drily. I blush at his words. I like it when he calls me his wife.

Sarah bursts out laughing at his words.

"Your wife," she starts in between laughing, "you mean the one with the frumpy clothes?" I look down at my dress, frowning. I don't think it's frumpy... why would she say that?

"I can't believe a man like you would actually find that attractive," Sarah has the gall to say, and I gasp. What?

"Sarah, please refrain from talking like that about my wife," Marcello tells her, and it gives me a little hope. Still, the jab hurts. Mainly because maybe he doesn't find me attractive...

"Why? I'd be offending her tender feelings? Don't worry, she won't hear anything from me," she says, and I hear movement. I can't help but glue my ear to the door, wanting to know what's going on.

"Sarah, I'd appreciate if you did not come into my personal space. This is inappropriate," Marcello tells her off very professionally.

"Please, Mr. Lastra. I know men like you," she replies, and there's a pause.

"Sarah, please put your clothes back on and leave." He emphasizes the word leave . Why is he telling her to put her clothes on? What's happening?

My heart is racing, and I don't know if I should just barge in or not. I can't hear anything anymore, and I start fretting.

Is Marcello... no, he wouldn't do that.

My hand is on the doorknob, and I debate with myself whether to open the door. I...

A loud sound jerks my attention, and I push the door open, consequences be damned. Sarah turns towards me, her mouth wide open. She's missing her top, her breasts bare. I quickly shift my gaze towards Marcello and gasp when I see him on the floor, a blank look on his face. His hands are wrapped around his knees, and he's rocking very slowly, almost out of it.

"What happened?" I ask Sarah.

"Nothing... I... I just touched his arm and then he was like that," she stammers, but I don't care. She touched him. Marcello doesn't like to be touched. And now he's...

"Out!" I say, my voice firm.

"But..."

"Get the hell out before I throw you out myself. And don't think about coming back!" Her eyes are wide with fear, and she nods slowly before leaving the room.

I close the door after her and kneel on the floor next to Marcello.

"Marcello," I call out, my voice soft.

He's shaking, his whole body shuddering as he's rocking faster and faster.

"Marcello, you're safe," I try again.

I'm so scared. Just looking at him like this is enough to bring tears to my eyes. She touched him. She fucking touched him and now he's... he's shut down, hasn't he?

"Marcello," I lower my voice, "look what I have here. I made this with the materials you gifted me." I pull the bodice I'd made in front of him and start talking. Maybe changing the subject could help him get out of whatever place he shut himself in.

I tell him all about the process and how I'd worked on it.

"I want to make a princess dress for Claudia. You remember Claudia? She's my daughter." His rocking slows down a little, and he raises his head to look at me. His gaze is still blank, but one word escapes his lips.

"Claudia?" he croaks, and my heart bursts with emotion in my chest.

"Yes, Claudia is my daughter. You've met her. She's almost ten, and she's a little troublemaker." I tell him stories about Claudia scaring the nuns off at the convent, about her little stunts and her newly found love of chocolate.

"Catalina?" His voice is hoarse as he says my name, and I eagerly nod.

"Yes, it's me. Do you recognize me?"

His eyes look straight at me, and he furrows his brows, as if clearing the fog surrounding his mind.

"Catalina?" He blinks twice. He then leans forward, dropping his knees to the floor.

"Are you alright?" I move as close to him as I can without making him uncomfortable.

"Now I am," he whispers, "thank you."

"What for?" I ask, baffled.

"You made them go away..." he responds, looking above my head.

"Who, Sarah?"

"No." He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. "The demons. You made the demons go away," he says in all seriousness.

And then he does something that surprises me. His hand hesitantly reaches out and, with the tip of his finger, he strokes my cheek with the ghost of a touch.

"You always chase the demons away," he whispers, and a tear falls down his cheek.