The world comes back to her, slow like honey pouring into tea, fading in from black and pounding in her brain.
This is what it's like to be weightless: nauseatingly free and like her only chance at giving back to the two people she loves the most. Nothing holds her down or back, not even the Earth.
Except she is anything but. Except there's weight pulling her down and she doesn't have the strength to fight it. Her body breaks under it, and the pain — she can't pinpoint it, can't feel where the ache comes from. It radiates from all over, over, over.
She blinks slowly in the darkness. Her eyes slide with its kaleidoscope vision onto something red, unkind. She thinks she knows him. He gets further away and she doesn't know why. Maybe if she held his eye she'd come back, but she slinks away. She succumbs to gravity.