It has been, as she sat with idle blinking and slight movements toward sounds, a day of colors for Adah. Blurry at first, nearly inconsequential, but, as day passed and the light of it receded into the quiet darkness, which seemed to make the beeping of the machines attached to her echo more, they began to slash. What seemed dull before now seemed too bright; shadows seemed to shift in ways that confused her, seemingly too deep to exist. Most importantly, amid the confusion of the slashing colors, Adah Price began to feel pain. A little bit, at first, a dull tugging at the back of her head that seemed to spread, seemed to grow more intense, until the colors disappeared and all there was was the pain, built up on itself, waiting in her dormant inactivity for just the right moment of awareness to rush in.

She closed her eyes tightly; she was able to get her teeth to clench slightly but that was the only movement she could manage, it would seem, although the urge for more, to release the pain, was strong. A slow sound, a whimper, started to emerge as confused panic started to accompany the pain. In the midsts of everything, the her breathing became erratic and unsteady, in sharp contrast to the mechanisism attached to her to maintain a pace; it felt that, instead of assisting her, the slower respirator was suffocating her and the panic sharpened. A desperate sound now, trying to call out but unable as she tried to will her atrophied limbs to remove the obstruction. Panic. Confusion. Pain. And all she could do was call out, to avoid being completely swallowed up by it.