[ If she knew how to get out of this place, she'd have been gone weeks ago. ]

Apparently I disappeared for a few days. [ Her unease at even the idea of it is plain to see. She crosses her arms, shifts her stance, and straightens her spine, as if she's expecting to have to withstand another blow, emotional or physical. ] I don't remember it. Something happened here, the fog— I don't know what happened, exactly, but people died. And then they came back.

[ Turning, she leans against the bulletin board, not worried enough about the new message to not use it as a support. ] A lot of weird stuff has happened here. Friendly is definitely not a word I'd use to describe this place.