Part I:
Beads of sweat gather on my temples. I take a big gulp of air trying to fill my lungs. It’s absolutely useless. I’m no better off than I was before. Desperately, I form a fist and place it over the left side of my chest. After a few minutes, I begin to pound at my breast with what I think is quite a bit of force. But as it turns out, it’s only a gentle thud.
Then my arm sweeps across the end table knocking it, and the books that were there, onto the hardwood floor. My eyes are wide. I’m helpless. I can’t move. As I gasp for more air, my mouth is moving, but no words come from me.
I’m trying to prevent something from happening. But I have no idea what that something is.
Tortuous Tales 