Sorin flinched away from Demelza's touch on his arm. Though the pain was all in his mind, it felt as though she'd pressed a hot poker to his too-sensitive skin. His eyes clenched shut, and a low moan ground out from between his teeth.
"Nnnnnn," he tried, the sound coming out as one long consonant rather than the word he'd been going for. "Sc-screaming, wall-walls."
He was panting, and there was a girl, and he knew her but didn't know her at all and where was he? If he didn't get hold of himself, the whole school would know! Gods help him, but he couldn't stop shaking or crying and his voice was cracked and wheezing and the words just wouldn't come. He needed Pomfrey, or one of his friends. Why was it that Constantine or Astoria were so rarely around lately when this happened? Even Anthony would do just now - Anthony knew, finally. He knew what to do. To call Pomfrey. To get him out of sight, so that no one stumbled across his body, captive as it was to the violent effects of his visions.
And it was becoming clearer what they meant the longer he lay there, the more they repeated, like an old record player stuck on one note for too long.
"H-he," he breathed, and tried to roll onto his side, away from her. She didn't need to see him like that.