too much, too little

She couldn't breathe.

There was too much at stake and too little to sacrifice. Anxiety attacks her, hundreds (thousands) of invisible needles prick her skin, cold and hot at the same time. Her vision is littered with black spots and her lungs felt like they were collapsing. Too many thoughts, too little thoughts.

She didn't know what was going on.

There was silence, there was noise; too many things going on, nothing going on. She didn't know what was happening. Too many people around her, not one person around her. Her senses were failing, her senses were on overdrive.

There was both too much and too little.

She sinks to the ground, her knees weaken and give way. Her eyes see too much, too little. There was too much colour, there was no colour. 

Her hands make their way to her head, stopping too many and too little. Her eyes become blank then dilate, her breathing becomes ragged. She starts shaking, she pulls her hair tight. People around her notice; one attempts to approach her.

She suddenly starts screaming.

People around her jump in shock, almost disgusted, almost disturbed. She starts scratching her arms, rendering them red and almost breaks skin, until somebody pulls at her hands.

Strong, tight, commanding.

The smell of the ocean invades her nose, and whispers (snap out of it, snap out of it, snap out of it) pour in her ears. Her breathing calms down, she stops shaking, she closes her eyes.

She collapses.

Murmurs were everywhere.

(Who is that man? How are they related? It's not our problem now.)

And then suddenly, no one remembers anything—the lady and the man vanish.

In the shadows of an alley, the tall man carries the woman, and vanish into the wall.

A black cat emerges.

(Her power is far too much, far too great for her to handle. She was overwhelmed and finally collapsed.

Bring her back. Her training is nowhere near done.

Understood.)

The cat's green eyes become blue.