The memory of a dream. Of those moments, horrible dragging seconds, before you wake up in a freezing sweat, screaming, clawing at your own throat.
She stares at you from behind the glass. Help me!, her mouth says, but her voice is lost, trapped along with her. Her eyes are wide and frightened and pleading but there's a light in them, a light that believes in you and in your strength. Help me! Please! Over and over again her lips move, her fingernails scratching at the glass as it slowly turns misty from the bottom up. Help me! Get me out of here!
The glass is cloudy enough to hide her feet, crawling up to hide her legs, her waist. Her movements grow more frantic. She beats her fists against the glass even as her arms go stiff. Her pleading turns into screaming that you still can't hear. The light is gone, replaced by awful shadows of betrayal and despair. Help me help me HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME
She's gone, a still figure behind the glass, her silhouette only barely visible.