For all those loved and lost.

When your lost in the darkness;

Jake?

You roll over in bed slightly, trying to avoid the light of the early morning sun. You slowly move your

arm across the rough surface of 5-year-old sheets left behind after the outbreak and feel that your

boyfriend Jake isnt there. You sit up quickly, head spinning from sleep, and look around the tiny

hotel room you both found refuge in, but still no sign of Jake. Panic sets deep into your chest and you

feel the air around you is getting thinner, but only in this room. Only in these four walls around you

does it suddenly feel like the tip of a mountain where there is no air left to breathe and you know

you have reached the peak.

Jake?... Hello? You call out again, in more of a concerned tone now, rather than the sleepy tone you

used previously, but still no reply. You pull the covers off your legs and swing them off the bed,

struggling to ground yourself.

Hes okay right? Hes probably just gone to hunt for food, or get more wood for the fire because you

kept complaining you were cold through the night, right?

Right?

You feel like you cant breathe - like all the demons in your head have suddenly surfaced to the front

cortex of your brain and youre just as bad as one of the monsters outside that are trying to kill

anyone and everyone in their path.

Please be okay, please dont be one of them, you whisper to yourself. The questions keep spiralling

around and around until you dont have a hold on them anymore and the train wreck of chest

crushing thoughts begin to topple over one another to reach the finish line of finally driving you to

insanity.

Slowly, you stand up and begin looking around the apartment youre squatting in.

Its just a basic hotel room - one you probably would have stayed in pre-outbreak. Four walls, a bed,

and some questionably ugly furniture thats been tipped over by looters. Most of the important stuff

from this room has already been taken before the outbreak, but youre just happy that you had a

comfortable bed to sleep on for the night.

Theres still no sign of him and now, you really do begin to panic. You start by checking the little

hidden spots Jake could possibly hide in biting your nails, no sign of him you pace the bedroom and

think to yourself maybe Ill wait for a while see if he comes back.

Your breathing suddenly becomes more like a chore than a life necessity.

You take as many deep breaths as you can muster to calm the slow rising anxiety you feel deep

within your bones. Until you cannot take it any longer and you make your way to the front door,

gripping your pistol with the singular bullet left in it, and you gently stroke the A that has been

engraved in the handle. You consciously make the effort to remember the door number, 207. You

repeat it in your head over and over to try and calm the panic attack thats threatening to swallow