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Things were really going to hell in a hand basket fast. All David heard was the counter boy's order for him to open the door on his mark while they got the trapped woman out and he went for it. He stood next to the bathroom door, his hand on the knob, trying to ignore the obvious vines growing around the door and everything else that had made that woman disappear.

Then he heard the second voice inside and promptly got a bit more panicked.

"Uh, guys? In case y'all haven't noticed, there's a [i]second[/i] lady in there now! I'm opening the door whether you folks like it or not!"

And just like that, he threw open the bathroom door and then pressed himself against the adjacent wall. The butter knife he'd pinched from his breakfast was in one hand and his camera was in the other, snapping a quick photo of the chaos in the diner and one of the bathroom before he let it dangle from its strap. The panic bubbling inside of him threatening to burst, bringing him back to his early days when he'd first been diagnosed with PTSD. His hands shook ever so slightly and his breath caught in his lungs. David forced himself to swallow his spit and controlled his breathing.

[i]Breathe in... Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.[/i]

[i]Breathe out... Two, three, four.[/i]

He stilled the shaking in his hands and focused on the job before him.

He wouldn't let himself suffer another panic attack.

Never again.