From Dark waters

The Black Dog had its hand around my throat; so gently that no one could see the bruises. I was drowning, even when I laughed louder than everyone else. And then you came... Not with white wings, nor with the face of a savior. Your eyes were familiar with the dark, and your presence carried fear with it. Yet the moment you took my hand, I understood that salvation never looks like the stories. Sometimes, rescue arrives in the shape of the very thing you've spent your whole life running from. And there, in the dark waters, I learned how to breathe again.