Allison can't feel the breath that comes in. Sharp. Silent. Deadly.

It feels like it doesn't exist for more than to slice cold through her chest, as direct as any dagger. Like she might have missed it. Imagined it. No one. No one has ever. Not even Luther. Not once. Not in almost two months. There's no air. Allison isn't sure she can breathe suddenly. Remembers how. Could if she did. Or if there are any bones in her body. All she can see is Claire's face, and it feels like her whole rib cage is frozen in the middle of being crushed like it was only crepe paper and not bone.