[Someone's been dumped outside the doors of the clinic. Pale, so very pale, sprawled out weakly in front of the doors, her eyes dark and huge in her smale, wan face. The most outstandingly dark thing about her, she's almost ghostly against the red-blue-gold of her robes, not moving well at all. The bruises on her wrists and neck stand out quite brightly, in fact, and closer inspection would reveal two almost dainty puncture wounds on her neck.
She keeps trying to get up, and it's not working - in fact, it's not really working at all. She's weak and what's worse she's not alone in her head right now - trying not to say much. She doesn't... really want to talk to anyone. She wants - to be alone in her head. She wants quiet. Only there's not, it isn't, she's seeing and thinking two things at once, she's not alone but she's not with the people she'd want to be with, if she wanted anyone, anything at all -
She doesn't want to say anything at all. The journal picks up the sounds of rough breaths, little half-swallowed noises of effort, the occasional muffled thump as she fails at getting up under her own power and falls back onto the floor.]
Aghh... ah. God. Aggh... oh... nn-nnt... ahhhh...
[ooc: guess whose day
Zelman is in the process of ruining, guys?! 8D]