She. Stops.
The world around her is swirling.
She fights it at first. She won't succumb to the pounding.
She doesn't say a word. She pretends to be normal; internally fighting the hammer in her head, her small voice inside saying, I'm stronger than you. You will not get me this time.
She will be wrong.
She is powerless against this beast. The dimmest of lights is too bright; the smallest of whispers is blaringly loud; the sweetest of smells bring wave after wave after wave of nausea.
She tries prescriptions, and peppermint oil, and pressure points.
She finally crumbles.
Her world must be dark, piling pillows over her head, and blankets over her body.
She begs for sleep, for relief...it hurts to breathe.
She can feel herself drifting; drowning in the tumultuous sea; wishing for the claws to release their grip.
And finally; finally as she floats upward again; the sea is once again calm.
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