death coming up the hill.

[littlemissfutility]

Her first, shallow breath in is filled with dirt--that's what wakes her, coughing out and out to try to expel the irritation in her lungs. The realization of the darkness comes next, as she blinks and shifts, her eyes gritty. Everything's pressing in on her, trying to fill in the spaces in her nose and mouth and she can't breathe, everything tastes like mud, and--

Oh, God--oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, ohgodohgodohgodohgod--

She kicks and punches, scrabbles what she hopes without words is up, her lungs burning, halfway certain that she's going to die like this, trapped under too much dirt packed over her. The earth is heavy, she doesn't know where she's going, and her head is pounding with the effort of moving without air to fuel her.

A hand is the first thing to make it to the surface. It takes her a moment to recognize the sensation, warm sunshine without more soil blocking it, but when she does, she reacts like a cornered dog. Scratching up, reaching, doing everything she can to get to that place where the ground stops.

Beth spits filth when her head breaks the surface. Air fills her lungs, then disappears again in more racking coughs. She's a mess of dirt and tears and (after that long stretch of hacking) puke, unable to do anything except try to get everything that doesn't belong in her out.