The Expansion of the Universe

Three | "He's new here."

The blinds were pulled shut over every window of the house.

Liza had flicked off every light, returned to the living room, and hadn't moved since.

She wasn't aware of the time.

The only sounds she recognized were from Milo, who was shoving his head into the crook of her neck and huffing at her with impatience and concern.

She knew why he was worried: She hadn't experienced an episode this bad in months. He'd already brought her a bottle of water and a granola bar in his concern, neither of which she'd touched.

But, oh, she couldn't bear to stomach anything.

All she could think about were those eyes.

Eyes that had been looking at her.

God, the memory alone was enough to have her breaths shortening and her heartrate skyrocketing.

Milo laid his head over her chest, providing her with enough weight to feel as though maybe her entire world wasn't spinning out of control. Numbly, she reached a hand up and stroked it through his fur, noting that he needed a bath.

And that, truly, was the best part about having Milo.

Sure, he was trained to calm her down before her attacks got too severe, and helped her function by grabbing water and bars when the severe attacks struck (as in that instant), but his real value came simply in the fact that he was there. Even in the midst of her worst moments, one glance at Milo reminded Liza that it wasn't just her anymore.

She needed to care for him, too.

So, even though the outside world was absolutely and utterly terrifying, Liza closed her eyes, trying her best to rid those brown eyes from her memory as she went against what Dr. Whitney had taught her and fell back into telling herself exactly what she had been thinking since her issues had first begun.

The outside world was horrible. It was scary and filled with strangers whose motives were unknown. Strangers who were dangerous. Strangers who didn't care if they made people scream or cry or die.

But there, inside her house with her dog, tucked away behind a locked oak door and flowery blinds, she was perfectly safe.

This house was her world.

Dr. Whitney would have been disappointed in Liza if she knew, but Liza wasn't planning on admitting to anything during their next session.

With Milo in mind, she forced herself to move, her dog moving with her, his head tucked against her leg as support to help her stand.

This was her world, and that was what she reminded herself as she focused solely on making it to the kitchen, refusing to look at the blinds or the door or anything that would remind her of—

Stop.

No.

Focus.

"Here, Milo," she whispered, her voice raspy, finding his food easily in the near-empty cabinets. There was plenty of space, since there was only one of everything in the house.

One bowl for Milo's food, and one for his water.

For her: One bowl, one plate, one spoon, one fork, one knife, one glass, and so on.

Just one.

Because having more than one of something, even if only a box of cereal, meant she was expecting people to invade her world, and the idea was so appalling it had her swallowing back a scream.