[h1][b][i][color=9e005d][center]June Fowler[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[center][img]https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e8/Kristen_Stewart_Life_Magazine_1.JPG[/img][/center]
[center]Location: Light of the house 
Skills: N/A[/center]
[hr][hr]

	The pressure had finally gotten to June. She used to think herself a woman who could face any problem, the exception being her own brain. There was a part of her that couldn't process stress well, a part of her that couldn't process noises well, a part of her that couldn't even handle textures well. Combined with the stress of the last month or so, and she had hit a breaking point. She had help with doctors, medications, and a structured social life. But with all of that out the window, all the problems of the last month finally hit a head. 

	"[color=9e005d]I... I can't I just... Why Can't everyone just shut up...[/color]" She hated how weak she felt. She hated how useless she felt. She hated how stupid she must look right now. She hated how she felt there was little and less she could do about it.  She had blocked out the world around her so much so that she didn't even notice Maria rushing up to her. She didn't even hear her speak at first. When she first noticed the woman's feet she nearly jumped back in surprise. Her fight or flight reflexes attempting to save her while her mental state struggled to keep up. 

	Falling backwards onto her ass, she had to stop and process what was going on. Looking up at Maria through tear filled eyes, red from a mix of high blood pressure and tears, June attempted to speak. "[color=9e005d]He's dead. And she's probably dead too. And everyone else is dead.[/color]" She choked out as her brain tried to catch up to her words. She in this case, referred to the man that shot himself up in the lighthouse. And she, likely Sam. The girl she had lost when things had begun to fall apart. "[color=9e005d]Why do they have to die? And I have to be the strong one?[/color]" In her mind, the context made sense. In her mind she wasn't fighting off a nervous breakdown induced by weeks of un-medicated stress from an apocalyptic scenario pushed over via sensory overload. 

	"[color=9e005d]oh god... Billie... she's still up there...[/color]" She said between breaths as she began to stabilize. But the whining of the electrical motor was still going strong. Even down here it felt like someone was drilling cork screws through her head. Why did it have to be so fucking loud?! Why did this have to be what pushed her over? Why couldn't she break down back somewhere she could hide her thoughts and not make herself look like a total infant?! Instead she was on full display for the world to witness. All half dozen of them and the hoards of dead outside. 

	That is when it clicked for June, the fight or flight trying to poke through the overload. They were not safe. The very same thing that had tripped her up was also ringing the dinner bell. "[color=9e005d]Shut it off shut it off![/color]" She blurted out trying her best to get her thoughts to work strait again. She knew there was a danger but she couldn't get over herself enough to articulate it clearly. "[color=9e005d]It's too loud turn it off![/color]" She nearly screamed.