"Lucy..." he says in a singsong tone.

I look around in the darkness as he visits me once again. I hate it, and it's probably the worst thing I've ever encountered. This has been happening for 19 years now. 19 years.

All I hear is silence. I'm tense, trying to find him. Suddenly, an arm wraps around my waist and a thumb strokes my side. I try to push him away. "G-Get off me!" I spin round but he's gone.

"Don't you like me?"

His voice is silky, sending shivers down my spine.

"No, I like Tom, you know that."

He appears in front of me now, chuckling quietly. "Oh yes. Tom." He spins a ball of nightmare sand on his finger. I gulp as he walks towards me.

"You're 19 now, aren't you Lucy?"

I nod, frozen to the spot as his thumb brushes my cheek, and black sand swirls round us.

"You're still scared of me." He smiles, an evil smile that nearly makes me give in.

But I don't.

"You've been doing this for 19 years Pitch. Give up," I say firmly, trying to be brave. "I don't think I will." He pulls me close to him. "Have you ever danced, Lucy?"

"What are you-"

He starts to waltz with me, chuckling. "You're very good at this. Have you done this with Tom?"

"Yes, but only with him." Pitch twirls me round before catching me, one hand on my waist.

"Well, you have a different partner now."

I try to break away but his grip becomes tighter, forcing me to keep dancing.

"And anyway, it's not like-"

"LUCY WAKE UP!"

I push Pitch hard, stumbling away from him.

"LUCY!"

I wake up, coughing. Tom hugs me. "Shit Lucy! What the hell happened?"

"Pitch," I say weakly, hugging back.

Tom's eyes flare with anger. "Why can't he just leave you alone?"

"I don't know, he's been doing this to me since I was born."

Tom sighs, the anger gone from his eyes, replaced by sorrow. He holds my hand, sitting on the side of my bed. "I'm sorry Lucy."

"What are you sorry for?" I laugh a little. "There's nothing to be sorry about."

But we both know the reason.

I get out of bed, stretching. I look at him.

"You know, I don't want this to happen to our children."

"Neither do I," Tom says. He looks at me gently. "Your eyes...they're still beautiful."

I smile, giggling as he pulls me towards him. "Your eyes are still soft, like a doe's."

"Oh be quiet," he says jokingly, blushing slightly. I laugh and he grins before we begin to waltz around the room. With Tom, it's passionate, magical, wonderful.

(With Pitch, it's just...forced.)

The thought stops me in my tracks and I stumble into him. We fall on top of each other, laughing. Then, we stop and look at our positions. I'm on top of him. I blush madly, getting off him. He sits up, a little dazed but laughing a little. "So, uh...I should get to lectures."

It's really awkward.

"Sure. See ya."

He slips a hand into his jean pockets and waves.

(I love it when he does that.)

I wave back, smiling. He smiles at me and walks off, closing the door.

I sigh, running a hand through my tangled hair.

"When will you ever stop, Pitch?" I ask aloud, but I know there's no answer.