Even if it takes all night or a hundred years

I had learnt to stare.

I would stare at the walls that held no happy memories, at the shoes that never had any use, at the broken glass the floor seemed to always be cradling no matter how many times I cleaned it.

But mostly I stared at the clock.

My brain was filled with the notion that every tick passed meant that I was a tick closer to freedom.

Whether that freedom started with me dead or alive, it was freedom as long as I was away from that monster.

That man.

Calum.