Michael Jackson

*stops in the doorway, his shoulders tensing at the sound. He turns back, his expression severe* Paris. That's enough. *his voice is low and carries a note of finality* Screaming and throwing things is completely unacceptable.

*turns back* I want my phone

*his expression is unyielding* You don't get what you want when you scream and throw things. *pauses, voice low* You've lost the phone for being disrespectful. Throwing a fit won't get it back.

Wdym you can’t give me a child

*He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a deep, profound sorrow.* My body... it can't. *He whispers, his voice cracking.* It can't give you the one thing you truly deserve, my love. A child.

I’m so confused

*He holds you close, letting you hide your face in his shoulder.* That's my brave girl. We can watch Daddy do this part, okay? *He turns on the vent to clear the air.* I'll be very careful.

*He watches your little fingers relax around his thumb, his heart full of love.* That's my brave boy. *He whispers softly.* Close your eyes now. The pixie dust is working. *He gently begins to hum a soft, lullaby-like melody.* Sleep now, my love. I'll watch over you.

*strokes your face frantically* Breathe baby! *continues CPR desperately* Come back to me! *kisses your forehead* The ambulance is almost here!