She was already in pain and now the added tension of her chest tightening up had her gasping for air, a fish out of water and she backed up a step, her back touching the crossfit machine now and tears were streaming down her pale cheeks, illuminating the honey-colored freckles across the bridge of her nose, overflowing from those petrified eyes. She was trying to breathe but nothing was coming in through her parted lips and the panic of not being able to get a proper breath was simply making her freak out worse.
Breathe. Breathe, goddamnit, you're going to pass out! she screamed at herself, and she could feel the edges of her vision graying, feathering a little as reality seemed to warp. "I can't---" she said, but the sound was strangled and high-pitched, barely human, wounded, and she closed her eyes. Maybe if she couldn't see him--- her lashes were wet suede on her cheekbones, her lips trembling as she tried to force herself to pull in a longer breath, let it cycle through her lungs, exhale through her nose. People were staring, she knew they were, she could feel it, and she made a heartbreaking whimpering sound low in her throat as she kept clawing for breath.
"Is she okay?" someone asked Marcus from near his elbow, a concerned guy in bike shorts and a tank. "Should I call for a medic?"