Heavy breathing. Small hands clutched onto a set of dog tags that read:

ZAMORA

ANGUIRUS Z. A POS

123-45-6789

USMC S

NO PREFERENCE

Hazel eyes were clenched shut as the panic attack made its home inside her chest. It was dark inside her closet. She needed the small, dark space. Memories were trying to overcome her. She refused.

"Anguirus!" A pounding came upon her bedroom door as the voice of Harper Maegan rang throughout the air. "You're going to be late!"

Anguirus huffed and tried to compose herself, putting her dog tags around her neck. Shakily standing up, she exited her hiding space and into her small room in a large house that was the home of seven foster children, excluding herself. Anguirus was not a child. She was a 24 year-old adult with PTSD (as her therapist likes to think). She also could not speak. She hasn't been able to since she was a little girl. No doctor has been able to figure out why.

Anguirus' room was immaculate. Her floor was swept spotless and there were no wrinkles in her bed sheets from when she made it at six o'clock this morning. She has been out of the Marines for eight years, but habit was a hard thing to break. Anguirus shoved on her thin leather boots and buckled them tightly before exiting her room and making her way down the stairs, avoiding the children that were making messes and causing a ruckus.

"Zill!"

"Hey, Z!"

"Anguirus, you are already late and you haven't even left!"

Anguirus waved Harper off and hugged little Charlene and pre-teen Jacob.

"Zill, I made this painting! Isn't it beautiful?" Charlene shoved a very colorful finger painting in Anguirus' face. It was labeled "Family" at the top and the stick figures' names were painted underneath them. "Harper", "Anguirus", "Me", and "Jacob". They were all holding hands. Anguirus smiled at the seven-year-old and nodded.

"You don't have to be nice." Jacob rolled his eyes at his biological sister's painting and Harper slapped the back of his head.

"Leave Charlene alone. Anguirus, get going. Now. I will not allow you to miss another appointment with Dr. Stapleton."

It was Anguirus' turn to roll her eyes and she went over to the coat rack, grabbing her loose jacket and leaving the home without a good-bye to anyone. Anguirus didn't sign any words when she didn't find it necessary. Saying good-bye was never necessary and was a useless mannerism. Anguirus walked through the streets of south London, avoiding looking at the strangers that seemed to make a point of grazing her arms. Anguirus was only 5"4, but she had a very strong demeanor that came from the line of work she was in. She quickly reached her destination, which was the office of Dr. Maggie Stapleton. Dr. Stapleton has been Anguirus' therapist since she arrived in London at the age of 18.

Anguirus walked in and sat down in the waiting room.

"She'll be with you in a moment, Z."

The receptionist said. Anguirus ignored her and started picking at her nails. She believed that she didn't need to be here, but Harper had a very different opinion. Anguirus had no choice but to follow orders. A man walked out of Dr. Stapleton's office and spoke to the receptionist for a few moments before walking to the door. He paused, however, and turned towards Anguirus.

"Hello." He chirped. Anguirus abruptly stopped picking at her nails and leaned forward towards him in her chair. She stared intently into his eyes, making him uncomfortable for a few long seconds.

"Erm... Good-bye." He hurriedly walked away.

"Dr. Stapleton would like to see you now." Anguirus walked into the doctor's office and sat down in a huff, putting her feet up on the coffee table that separated her and the good doctor.

Dr. Stapleton sighed, "I always expect different from you, but you do this every time."

"It's tradition." Anguirus signed.

Dr. Stapleton wrote something down in her trusty notebook, "How are the panic attacks? Have you had any recently?"

Anguirus shook her head no.

The doctor sighed, "I see you haven't done any of my suggestions." She leaned forward, "I think a change would really be good for you, Anguirus. It doesn't have to be big. Maybe a hair cut or a dress every once in a while."

Anguirus just stared at her vacantly. Those same words were spoken to her last time and the time before. Anguirus liked the long length and color of her hair and her comfortable clothing style. A measly hour went by and the session was up. Anguirus left with the same state of mind she had when she went in there. She was fine. She stepped outside and breathed in the smog. It was disgusting. The air will never be clean again.

"Oh, hello again." Anguirus turned her head and looked at the short gentleman that had spoken to her inside. It was strange how he was still here an hour after his session was over, but Anguirus wasn't stupid, so she turned and started her trek home.

"Wait!" The man put his hand on Anguirus' shoulder and she quickly smacked it off and turned around. Thinking quickly, she decided to sign things at him. He seemed simple-minded and not one who would know any language other than English.

"Hippopotamus, turtle, dragon, go away, red, blue-"

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry!" The man backed up and Anguirus carried never usually gets approached. Anguirus' long, blood-colored hair, cut-off sleeves, denim shorts, and heavily buckled boots tend to put strangers off.

It was six o'clock at night. Anguirus had four more hours to kill. She decided to go out and get something to eat. Anguirus walked through London until she came across a supermarket. She went inside and quickly found the fruit and vegetable section. She picked up an apple and a lemon and proceeded to check out. She trekked to a park and sat down on an isolated bench, crunching on her apple. So many people were flitting by. Joggers, mothers, children, dog-walkers. It must be nice for them. Anguirus took out her pocket knife and stabbed the lemon, dragging the blade along to make a slit. She quickly brought it up to her mouth and licked the juice that was leaking out before proceeding to cut it all the way in half. Anguirus was addicted to sour. Anything that put pain in her mouth, she loved. It was something that she started during her military days when she was sent out on a mission. Anguirus had nothing to eat and had been starving for a couple of days until she found a lemon tree. The rest was history.

"Lime juice, on the house." The bartender looked at the strange girl that had been coming here for the last seven years. He had felt a certain comfort in knowing that she'd be there every night at Dark Corners. It was now a routine.

Anguirus chugged down the burning liquid and quickly went to the dance floor. She went to the first person she saw and started dancing with them. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered when there was mind-numbing dubstep and the confidence in knowing that not a single one of these people would ever notice her in public. The DJ went to the microphone, announcing, "Firecracker!" The DJ had been there just as long as Anguirus. He didn't know her name. No one did. Nicknames were all he had. Only a select few knew what he was referring to.

Anguirus danced and grinded in the mob of people. She felt free. Music without lyrics. It's an art of its own.

"Firecracker!" The crowd yelled back, whether they knew what the DJ was talking about or not.

"Yo, clear off the stage!"

Girls and men were forced off the little circular stage that protruded from the center of the dance floor. It had blinking lights that went along with the songs that the DJ played. When it was cleared, a couple of people helped Anguirus up on to it. To her, she could barely comprehend what was going on. She just knew that this happened a lot. Anguirus never realized that she was used as a form of entertainment most nights. All she wanted to do was dance with people. She didn't care how or where. The song picked up and so did Anguirus' dance moves. She wasn't even particularly good at it. It was just amazing how in-tune she felt with the music. Anguirus could feel the vibrations in the air and it raised the hair on her arms. She swung her head around, making her long tendrils swing into the air in a dance of their own. Anguirus crouched down and slowly wiggled her way back up. People were watching her, shouting things at her. She didn't understand them and she didn't care. The song faded into a different tune. Slower and more sentimental.

"I walk into the room dripping in gold."

Anguirus gulped, trying to not completely forget herself. She spun around and fell backwards into the crowd of people. They carried her to the back and she was sat down. Anguirus slowly opened her eyes and looked at the man staring in front of her. He was staring at her intently. It was a little unsettling, but Anguirus didn't care. The music was flowing and the air was pounding. He slowly began to smile deviously at her.

"C'mon, girly!" A girl gripped onto her arm and pulled her into the crowd, causing Anguirus to completely forget about the strange man. Anguirus continued to grind and dance with the crowd. She always started off like that, being forced up there.

But, once again, she didn't care.

An hour passed and Anguirus decided that it was time to go home. She was always home by one in the morning. She shoved her way through the crowd and went to the bar, where the bar tender gave her another glass of lime juice. "Some guy left this for you!" The bar tender shouted over the music. He handed Anguirus a folded up note and she waved him a thanks, shoving it into her back pocket. She walked out into the cold night air and breathed in the air. Anguirus decided to run. She set off in a sprint for the direction of her home. She ducked into an alley and jumped over the trash cans littered in the way. Anguirus made it out and stopped abruptly when she heard a clatter. Looking back into the alley, she saw that one of the cans were knocked over. And she didn't do it.

Anguirus sent off into a sprint again and ran down another alley, jumping up and clutching a ladder that lead up to an apartment. She climbed quickly and jumped again, clutching to the rooftop and pulled herself up. Anguirus ran and jumped onto the next rooftop, and then another. She was more than certain that the pursuer was still chasing her. Anguirus ducked and hid behind a chimney. She saw a man run by and look around when he stopped at the edge. He had lost sight of her. Anguirus got up and quietly walked behind him. Quickly, she pushed him over the side of the building and jumped down on to his body. He wasn't dead. Just bruised.

Anguirus sprinted away from the unconscious man and ran home. She opened the door and shut it, putting her back against it. It was dark in her living room, like always. The seven children and Harper were already asleep. Anguirus slowly crept around, searching for intruders. She checked everyone's rooms and when she got to hers, she opened it quietly. Anguirus stepped in, surveying quickly. Everything was in order. She peeked towards the closet and proceeded take out her pocket knife. She stepped closer and paused when she got there. Putting her hand on the knob, she breathed out and opened the door quickly, swiping the knife through the darkness of her closet. She didn't hit anything. Anguirus sighed and closed the door before shedding her clothes and going to bed.

The day was still moderately normal.