Right. Just a little less then pretty. Of course. Everything's recoverable. We can make it through this shit. Of course we can. We always do. Nothing's really wrong so long as we don't acknowledge that anything's really wrong.
...The mums' are the worst understaters of the goddamn century. Everyone should know that. If you were unaware, please make yourself aware now.
I knew we were too quiet. I knew that It was closing in. That thing. That thing that brings down both the flood and the flame. It's been watching too long. Too long. And they were being too happy, thinking about the baby and names for Her. Because now we know. We know it's a she.
Cecelia. That's the name I'm voting for.
...I'm trying to be optimistic. I'm trying to let the mums' positive attitude rub off on me. I'm trying to learn new tricks. I'm not even close to old yet.
But it's not working.
We have to get out of this hospital. Tia's stuck. The doctors won't let her leave. There are complications. We're stuck hoping they'll work themselves out. And Tia's having fits.
She sees It. I see It. Lis feels It. It's everywhere. We have to go. Go before It takes something precious. I need a friend. But I haven't got a friend in the world I could call on.