Rosalind turned when she heard his voice, and she couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips. She didn't want him to fret over her, not after all of the trouble she had caused him. The memories came back in flashes, and what she saw was not anything she was proud of. She took another deep breath, but relented when he told her to lie back down.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out as immediately as she wanted. Her throat was parched, as were her lips and it was a struggle to speak. "Yes, thank you," she managed in a low and raspy voice. Rosalind reached up a hand to her throat to press it. It was raw, and swallowing was so very hard. She was glad that Clint had a glass of water nearby.
"How long..." she managed to ask. She stopped herself because it was too difficult. Rosalind turned her head to the side to stop whatever tears were threatening to come forth. She had never felt so helpless in her entire life, and for Clint to see her in such a state... she sighed, and then noticed the bedside table in pieces on the floor. She looked at him questioningly because that was something she did not remember.