Asthma

She was lying in an enclosed, dark place. The air was still and cold, and in the dim light, she could see her breaths in pained rasps of steam. It was hard to draw in air, and far more difficult to release it. She couldn't move more than an inch, nor could she see her surroundings. Despite these things, she knew it was safe. She would live if only by the utmost effort.
She tried to relax herself. This brought to her a slightly comical effect. Can you still a storm when it has reached it's full force? Rarely. She was no special case.
The silence stretched on. It was only broken by her quickly diminishing breath sounds. It came slowly, the thought that she was going to die. She would vanish from this dark place.
The girl groped in the dim around her. She felt the wood paneling and the door handle of the closet, but it would not open. There was no strip of light underneath the door. Her fingers came away with a coat of dust on their tips. How long had she been here? Months? Years?
A feeble cough reached her lips. She put her hand to her throat and tried to draw breath. It would not come. It felt like drowning. She knew she would die.