There was fear in her, that much he could tell. But of what he could not fathom. He could remember plenty of times when he had felt her become frighten, but never at a time like this. The idea of it seemed foolish to entertain. But the fact of the matter was that it was there and he had no inkling on why.
When she started to talk things began to make some sense. She was hiding something, but what could it be that would have caused that? He could not fathom it. Or at least he could not until she slowly turned and the candlelight revealed what her shirt had been hiding. Then everything made sense and he felt a grip on his heart.
"Oh, Aimee..." he said softly, whispering it out to the air around them. Reaching out as if into a dream he touched the massacred skin lightly. Running his fingers over the gnarled pattern he shook his head. "What could do this? Nothing, nothing in all I've seen could have done this sort of damage."