She nearly chokes on the thick, lung-searing air - each laboring breath more arduous than the last - until she's nearly breathless from the pressure in her chest. The voices of her friends blur into a stream of white noise she can't decipher as she tries her best to process what she has just lost.
He wanted me to tell you he loved you.
Her instinct reaction is to scream - the sound curdling beneath the tight lump in her throat - but all that comes out is a strained gasp of disbelief.
"No..."
(She didn't have enough air in her lungs anyways.)
The world slows to a crawl as her mind fades in and out of reality, memories flashing through her mind — a whirlwind with gale force winds, much like that she watched disappear before her eyes only moments ago. The pressure in her chest builds and bursts into a wrenching cry that erupts from her lips, inadvertently causing her to pull in painful, shuddering breaths - an inadvertent, vicious cycle she couldn't control.
(The heartbreak is too big for her body, and she crumbles under the burden.)
The world might not have ended, but hers just did.
I will never, ever get over Wally West, man. Let Artemis be happy. ~DHD