Matthew was lost, fifteen minutes and it closes, it said. He had grabbed a bottle of water, his medication, and a book, and his semi-charged phone, and tried to find his way to the shelter. After about ten minutes, he realised that as usual, he had no clue where he was and there was no time for him to get there. His instinct told him library, so he wandered in and bundled himself under a desk. He wished it had been more specific, what if he was there for a long time? Were they in any danger? Would he starve? Where was Alex? Where was Nailah?
The phone stubbornly refused to work and it was covered in tears as he fiddled with the buttons is vain. He sat under the desk and curled into a ball, clinging to his things, his brain fighting with itself not to scream for someone to sedate him. He felt the anxiety pulse and was derealised from the world around him as everything shook. He was screaming but he felt like he had no control and no connection. He blinked. Had it stopped? He didn't remember the last minutes. It came flooding back to him and he slowly opened his eyes, whimpering, too terrified to move.