Click. Click. Click.
All sounds ever heard from the girl's room were clicks. Clicking of pens, clicking of computer mouse, clicking of keys on a computer, clicking of buttons on a console and much else were just her adjusting her position on the couch.
'56 hours and 7 minutes' the clock on her bedside printed. Ah, another minute has passed by since she was stuck in this dark, dark room of hers.
It was never her choice to have this pair of couple as her caretakers. Her so called 'mother' only ever came home to shower and her 'father' barely ever show up save for Saturday mornings where he'd bake two loaves of sourdough, consistently.
Nowadays, all she ever sees when she walks out of her room is the sight of her adoptive parents watching the news in hopes of seeing a report saying the lockdown is finally over. She could see how uncomfortable her parents seem as they sat in the living room, dining table or wherever else they sat their butts on in the house. Fidgety.
Brings her to wonder if there are invisible obstacles stuck to the surfaces of this house. Anyway, let's just say that during the duration of the past two decades it has been since the couple had bought the house, never once have they ever spent more than three seconds fixating on a spot in the house. Now they finally did and they can't stop.
They can't stop but try to fix every uneven surfaces. No matter if it was concrete or dust causing such form. They can't stop but wipe every swipe of dirt on the furnitures. They can't stop but hate and hate and hate the way some things aren't fixable and they have to live with it.
This brings the topic of why the girl was locked in her room. They realised how much they hated her presence, her every footstep and hums. Which were loud, but never too loud. She'd gotten used to being left alone, what can she say amiright?
So they locked her in her room and only all the more annoyed they got.
