Caged

Ticks and Tallies

In a heartbeat or a clock, there's the initial tick, and the silent tally.

Tick. Tally.

Tick.

Tally.

I know people call them ticks and tocks, but tallies make more sense to me. Why? Because every time I hear that God-awful tick sound throughout my cell, I can't help but make a tally.

I tried tallying the walls. It's hard when you've nothing to write with. For the first seven ticks, I etched the wall, but the walls are so strong that it was almost impossible.

And they look like they're actually disappearing, so I guess I made the right decision. The walls will clear up in a few days, and no one would be able to tell it ever had a marking. A person who can't keep their mind straight wouldn't be able to remember how many ticks they've heard, and it must be kept track of. So... When you're stuck in a room full of things that can only bring harm to yourself, why not use it to your advantage? The walls will clear; my skin will scar... I can keep track this way. Fifteen ticks, fifteen tallies. Fifteen days. Maybe sixteen. I think I slept through one. I'm not doing so anymore, because I hear three to four ticks before I sleep, and I don't think I've ever gotten more than a few hours of sleep at a time.

Sixteen days.

More than sixteen times have these horrible nightmares shown up. More than sixteen times have I wanted to get out of this Hell. More than sixteen times have I wondered what's happening. More than sixteen times have I tried to remember.

More than sixteen times have I tried to escape.