While the memories her words caused her a terrible burden to bear, worse was poor Cassandra being distraught by this.
"It's okay," he soothed, reaching out to touch her shoulders. "Cassandra, it's alright." He had been still a young man when he had written the horrors he had experienced at the hands of some of his teachers at Rugby. He had detailed the bullying he experienced as well. And then he had torn the pages from his diary himself and burned them in a fire on a night in midwinter when he didn't feel he would ever be warm again. Watching the pages that held his nightmares twist and curl in the flames had brought him a kind of comfort which he had sorely needed.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you have to see that. I never meant for you to. I'm so sorry, Cassandra."