Panic.
You open your mouth. Open it so wide your jaws creak. You order your lungs to draw air, NOW, you need air, need it NOW. But your airway ignores you. They collapse, tighten, squeeze, and suddenly you're breathing through a drinking straw. Your mouth closed and your lips purse and all you can manage is a strangled croak. Your hands wriggle and shake. Somewhere a dam has cracked open and a flood of cold sweat spills, drenched your body. You want to scream. You would if you could. But you have to breathe to scream.
Panic.
YOU ARE READING
Pale
RandomThere's more to my thoughts than I've ever known. Some quotes from the hundreds of books I've read.
