InsaneJournal

Who: Boyd
What: A narrative
Where: Caridad Safe House
When: Today
Warnings: Just the standard medical and owie ones

Caridad Safe House was adjacent to the local charity hospital, though you wouldn't immediately know the two buildings were affiliated in the way they were. It looked like a harmless, three-story administrative building from the outside - white/grey and innocuous. Inside the front doors, a welcome desk housed a perfectly business-like secretary and all the appropriate paraphernalia for a billing office.

Past the double doors, to the rear of the welcome area, however, everything changed.

The halls were homey and it was obviously intended to be a comforting place. The rooms were small and ill-furnished, but they were clean and they each housed a rather new hospital bed and medical equipment. Caridad was the building where battered women with medical needs were held, and Boyd's need to be on an antibiotic IV for her hand meant she was placed there, instead of at another safe house in the area.

She'd been asleep most of the previous day, with the exception of the message sent to Daniel, and by the time she woke up the next morning, she was already dizzy and sweating from the lack of Xanax in her system. She'd informed the nurse, and they'd called over to the hospital for a psych consult, which resulted in a metered/reduced dose of all her regular meds being added to her daily regimen, along with an order for daily therapy and psychiatric visits.

She was tired and numb, and she curled around herself, not really caring about any of it. Her hand, having been newly stitched, was wrapped thickly and felt better than it had in days, and none of the ghosts here were angry (rather, they were sad), and she dozed on and off throughout the day.

The bruises and bite marks, clearly visible around the scooped neck of the shirt she'd been given from the donation basket, along with the large bite-mark on her side, were still listed as undetermined origin on her medical record, because even in her exhaustion, she wasn't going to tell them about Shane. They'd gotten her name from the national foster database, but they weren't going to tell anyone- she knew that. These people were in the business of protecting people, and an entire dead family made her seem in great need of such protection.

She wanted to get in contact with Daniel, to make sure he was okay, but she was too tired. She only hoped he'd told Shane (and even Rosalie) that she was alright. She really didn't want anyone worried. If she'd thought of it, she would have left a note. She regretted that she didn't, and she idly thought that someone really needed to tell Rick so he could tell Mikey. She was asleep again a few minutes later, curled around herself, red hair fanned against her too-pale cheeks.