My face drains of color, looking at her stomach. No, no. It's just a dream, Nic. Snap out of it. I look back at her and bring a hand to the side of her face, "S'okay, Jacks. We'll be okay."
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
I hear a slight scream and look up at the ceiling, listening for anything more.
``` Nic
I hush her and roll her on her back, a hand still on the side of her face, "Shh, baby. Wake up. Please. You're scaring the hell out of me. S'okay here."
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of
worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to
eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. — JRR Tolkien