Jan. 15th, 2010

thatlibbychick: (pleading/devastated)
[This is a voice entry. Libby has been pushing buttons on her laptop over and over without really looking, trying to hit the one that switches voice on. However, she started talking long before she hit the right button. Basically, everyone listening is starting out in the middle of a sentence. She's hysterical and crying, and her voice makes that clear.]

--medical equipment in my room, someone...someone from the infirmary needs to come take it. Syringes, scalpels, succinylcholine...an echocardiograph machine. I can't--oh god, I think I'm going to be sick--

[Sounds of retching.]


I'm sorry, so sorry...I did things, horrible things, and they're in my head I can't make them stop and everything...

[She takes in a long, deep breath.]

It's all gone wrong.

[The sound of something, maybe glass, smashing.]

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thatlibbychick: (Default)
Libby Widmore

December 2010

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