Gunther felt horrible listening to her story, it was one of the more pitiable things he had heard in his life.  He returned Brigit's gaze, shaking slightly reached out and wrapped his arm around the girl, holding her head against his chest.  "I'm sorry."  He said, knowing that he'd look like a fool if he started crying when she didn't.  He shivered at her descriptions of the horrible tortures she had inflicted on the man who raped her.  Somehow, her story convicted him of his guilt, of the terrible things he'd done because they seemed to be the right things to do at the time.<br/><br/>"I- I'm sorry."  He croaked, and began to sob, so caught up in his own self loathing that he could barely feel pity for the girl.  His head fell to her shoulder, and his tears began to stain her shirt.  He could barely conceive of anything but sorrow as a black cloud of depression began to envelop him, sucking the life from his limbs as he began to cling to the girl.