<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: comic sans ms;">Hands grabbing her startled her, the panted breaths halting as she was spun around, the hallway swimming before her eyes, slender hands slapping at the nurse’s hands as she wrenched up the thin tunic top to expose the pale skin of her abdomen that was blossoming dark bruises along her left side. Oh, she didn’t care that the woman apologized - at that moment, it didn’t even matter that she had touched her. What mattered was she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t calm herself to draw in air.<br/><br/>“Air…” One word squeaked out, her back sliding down the wall till the cheeks of her ass connected with the floor, fingers fluttering against her chest frantically. She couldn’t grasp why the nurse had backed off when she was struggling to freaking breathe and the hazy thought surfaced that the woman was torturing her. Was watching her die. Wasn’t that just her luck?<br/><br/>The pain of trying to draw in breath was compounded by the very real anxiety attack, the two problems feeding off each other till she was clawing at her chest, the edges of her vision darkening while the damned nurse simply stood there watching.</span></div>