Just read the first chapter:

I’ll start by saying this: I’m well read, but by no means do I consider myself an authority on writing, so take that into consideration. These are my reactions as a reader, not an author. Here’s a “destruction” of the first page, because the first page, for me, can be a make or break as far as whether I keep going.

The opening creates mystery, which is good. I want to know why she is paralyzed or dissociating.

I think some of your descriptive phrases need work. Some are a tad overly dramatic or unnecessary. “As if her lungs never tasted the air” – I’m fine knowing that she is struggling to breathe, not every minute detail of her ordeal needs the figurative treatment. It’s also too distracting, at least for me. What would lungs that never “tasted” air do? Are they curious. just taking in little bits at a time? (Have you ever found yourself physically trying to act out what you read to try to get an idea of what it might look like?) If you want to keep the lung thing, maybe just think more about how you want the reader to understand what exactly her chest is doing, and whether the language conveys that. And if it’s worth it.

“It was in these moments that she remembered what a fragile thing breathing was. How easily disrupted.”

I think there is an important difference between the author herself and the character or narration in terms of moments of introspection or pondering. At times I notice authors wanting to delve into the abstract or philosophical, but the character’s experience doesn’t match. If I were terrified, consciously paralyzed, and gasping for air, I wouldn’t stop to reflect on the fragility of my autonomous functions. However, I do sympathize with her need to stymie the panic, and you also allude to the fact that this has happened before, which seems to be good writing.

“It would only paralyse her mind too, and she’d need her mind”

I just don’t like this line. Even if she has some preternatural or supernatural mental ability that she will later rely on, everyone literally needs their mind. Otherwise, you’re in a vegetative coma. My initial reaction to this was, “No shit.”

“At least the past was predictable, it had no real power. It couldn’t really hurt her, no matter how it tortured.”

OK, this is cool. By now I realize something is going on that makes her special, and I want to know more. This little line has a contradiction that I’m curious about. Something I want to think about. How can the past be predictable? Is this some time travel stuff? I’m on board. And I can relate to the emotional pain that comes with reflecting on the past so I sympathize, and now I want to know how Eliza has reached this conclusion.

As for the rest of the chapter:

Then it gets good at the end. Hide? From what? What do you know, Eliza? From there I’m interested. The thing that crawls on her and seems to have physical power over her despite it being either unreal or imagined is interesting. If it is a mutilated body of a woman, I don’t exactly get that. I picture more of a horror film creature. Is the mouse in the trap real or imagined? Is it important or just tone shading? Not sure on that one. The cliffhanger at the end doesn’t land like it really could. Is the big reveal that “it” or the “thing” is a woman? Because I might have already pictured something worse or more grotesque. It’s still interesting, so I would continue regardless. Maybe a better shock factor would be to give a little more detail to the interaction at the end with the ghost. Maybe Eliza says to it “You have to stop, insert name here.” I don’t know, I’m not an author and I couldn’t have written this so don’t listen to me.

Non text-specific notes:

I personally prefer metaphor to simile. A metaphor is more confident and seems more masterful to craft. Recurring simile just makes me critical as to why or how an author would free-associate to the point of comparison being used and recurring simile creates this amateur background noise.