It’s not even dawn yet when you hear the blankets rustle.

Like clockwork, you feel the twitch of fingers against yours before Lottie shoots up like a rocket amidst the nest of blankets, body rigid, shoulders stooped high as her chest heaves.

She's mute, not uttering a word. Just staring, shaking.

It hasn’t gotten any less freaky. Lottie's visions aren't always at the dead of night, but you both prefer it this way. At least then she has you to ground her, to make her feel safe again.