And air rushed out of her lungs.
For a moment, she couldn't move, couldn't even breathe.
And the world sounded muffled, like she was underwater. Her heart thudded against her ribs.
She blinked up at the ceiling, dazed, trying to gather her senses. Heather rolled over, trying to gather herself, but the noise around her was loud and disorienting.
Her vision was blurred, and everything sounded distant. The fan who had crashed into her groaned nearby, also on the floor.
But Heather barely noticed. She turned her head, wincing, and saw the crowd.
The rest of the crowd was still running toward her, shouting her name, completely ignoring the fact that she was down.
Their eyes locked on her.
Heather's fingers scrambled across the floor, grasping for her phone, her bag—anything. But it was all too far.
Her legs trembled as she pushed herself up. The pain screamed from her side, but adrenaline screamed louder.
