The clock always ticks. There are times you don’t hear it, and there are times that you do. For Madeline Geofferys the clock just wouldn’t stop. Madeline looked around the room precariously, with the perpetual ticking haunting her every thought, every move, her eyes shakily followed the white skirting boards. The walls melted vertically from the high-reaching ceilings. Her eyes flickered with each tick of the clock, There were no corners, the windows were frosted if only to keep unwanted eyes out and her in, only a large door held her away from the rest of the world, the world that deemed her “insane”. Now only a hollow shell of who she used to be. She sat broken, folded up in the cornerless corner of the room, every noise a new noise, a fright. The smell of sadness and despair filled the room, it was hard to breathe, how could she breathe through so much sadness, every breath a reminder of the past and the looming future. She knew what was to come, the looks the of pity, the questions, followed by the distrust.