You were so far in your head at this point—psyching yourself out and making the panic worse. Almost letting yourself think you had died somewhere. Fuck, you hated this. You knew it was just your panic and OCD messing with you—trying to scare you and make your intrusive thoughts get the better of you,’You are more then your illness.’ Your mom would always say to you when your panicked hit at a young ago. You missed her and your dad so much, but at least they don’t have to suffer this cruel apocalyptic world.

You had managed to sit down on the dark green sofa that was covered with a sheet while thinking about your family, your left leg bouncing up and down fast as you though about them, thinking about what they had said to do when panic struck—your hands had the dirty white sheet clenched in your grasp.

In the back of your mind you could hear a pair of paws hitting the floor, the nails scraping the ground. Then you felt a cold nose push against your cheek—making you gasp and look down at what touched you. Oh. It was just your dog, Stryker. She was like your emotion support dog, she always seemed to know when you were panicking or having a rough time. She would always find you too. She was just a black lab that went up to your mid thigh, you knew she was mixed with something else—you just weren’t sure what.

“Hey girl,” You greeted her, petting the soft fur behind her floppy ear.

She gave out a happy whine as she rubbed her head against your open palm, her tail wagging back and forth. You swore you could see a faint halo glowing over her head as she did this. Your sweet little Angel. Abby loved her too, and since Stryker helped with your anxiety Isaac aloud you to let her in your room and she usually follows you everywhere—except for the cafeteria, because she sheds a little to much sometimes. As you pet Stryker your vision went hazy again as you sunk back into your thoughts unwilling. Thinking about the monsters outside, hiding in plan sight with nature as its camouflage.