She doesn't know what to do.
Everything's swirling around her head. She can't see through the smoke, can't breathe through it. It's a gray haze and she's trapped. All she can hear is the soft thud of her heartbeat in her ears.
You chose this, she tells herself. She chose the smoky lungs and the bubblegum pink hair. Just like she chose Puck. Just like she chose every bad thing.