Post by ASTRID IMOGEN SELWYN on Mar 7, 2014 8:40:47 GMT -8
They weren’t sure where to put her at first. Psychotic break-downs were Muggle matters, not the buisness of St. Mungo’s. But she wouldn’t go anywhere else. She refused. Astrid was a broken record - her head wasn’t entirely screwed on right when she arrived - and she just kept repeating that she had to get out of there. Of course, it had been a self-check-in. The older brunette had arrived at Mungo’s over three months ago on their doorstep, demanding to be checked in. That was how she had ended up on Floor Four: Spell Damage. Her symptoms seemed most applicable to the rest of the patients on that floor.“Name, ma’am?”
“Astrid Selwyn.”
The dropping of her husband’s last name had been so sudden - she didn’t even remember the last time that she saw him. Astrid just knew that she couldn’t go by that name any longer, she couldn’t go back to life like that. She didn’t take care of herself any more - her hair hadn’t been washed in days, her clothes hanging loosely off of her frame as she shuffled out of her room and leaned against the side of the corridor. There were only a few other patients out at this time, Aster assumed she was rather early waking up.
“Good morning, Miss Selwyn.” The young healer said as she tucked her arm underneath Astrid’s and began walking toward the front of the wing.
Astird wanted to resist, to tell her that she wanted to go for a walk in the gardens, but the words seemed to get caught in her throat like sweet but decapitating honey, “Where is my daughter?” She managed, turning her head to look down the long corridor. All she saw was a few loopy patients walking from one side of the room to the other. Where was her daughter? Her darling daughter...the one that she had been fighting so hard to protect.
“Miss Selwyn, we’ve told you before, you don’t have a daughter....” The healer stopped their advance and turned to look at her patient.
Astrid vehemently shook her head, “I have a daughter...Chloe. Where is Chloe?” She asked, her bright blue eyes suddenly fearful and sad.
“Why don’t we just have you sit down here, Astrid.” Slowly, Astrid sunk into one of the small arm chairs that she was being offered and pulled her knees up to her chest. Fingertips idly touched the fur on her slippers. So much had happened - so much that she could not explain. The woman came back and handed her a tiny cup with two horse pills in it and a small cup with water. Strange to think the woman had traded her expensive scotch for tap water.
