The tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock and the drip, drip, drip sounding slowly and steadily from the clock and the sink were deafening to Sally. She sat alone. Always alone. She had her husband, her house, her pillowcases, the telephone, her plates, and almost everything she'd ever wanted, but nobody ever called and her husband was as distant from her as the family and friends she had left behind.

Though, these things weren't really hers were they? They belonged to him. She belonged to him. He owned her and every appliance and little knickknack that she'd begun to realize kept her bogged down in her domestic prison as much as he did. He wasn't always distant now was he? Sometimes he'd come home in a rage, tired from work, some rude coworker had rubbed him the wrong way, or she had been caught accidentally peering out a window, and she was the outlet for his anger.

Then he wasn't distant at all. They were really close then. So close it hurt. Hurt a lot. Hurt so much that sometimes she would bleed and the couple of times she dared to leave the house during the week became a time to remain in more soul darkening solitude. Her face couldn't be seen after those close times she spent with her husband. People judged. They always judged. As if it wasn't already bad enough with the seemingly happy white couples that lived in the neat little houses around theirs that looked away when she occasionally passed by or the children that whispered in each other's ears about either the fading marks on her face or the fact that they were one of the only Mexican occupants in the neighborhood.

 .

He's nicer than her father and this place is better than where she came from she would tell herself. Isn't it? She always doubted herself. She was becoming more and more lost as the time withered away and she feared that soon enough she would lose herself completely. Her creamy colored skin had faded some and the lines on her face, the lines that formed frowns and grimaces, became more prominent on her aging face. She wasn't that old, but people seem to age faster when they're unhappy and mistreated.

Her husband didn't like it when she read the newspaper, and he didn't want her watching television...so they didn't have one. He said he didn't want her getting any crazy ideas in her head. He would tell her about how much she bored him. Nothing was ever good enough for him and any attempt to make him happy had the potential of backfiring. In the beginning he would apologize after fits of anger and it wasn't that bad, or at least not any worse than the way her father had treated her, which might be one of the reasons she wouldn't leave, but as time progressed so did his bottomless discontent and unwarranted anger. There were no more apologies.

Decidedly, her husband must have become overwhelmed with how much she bores him because he broke down and bought a television. He told her that he didn't want her to watch it, and she had to sit alone in another room while he watched whatever show that was capable of temporarily sating him. At first she was too scared to even turn the television on, but as time passed she hesitatingly decided to watch it while he was at work. She usually had the feeling that at any moment a load of rocks would come tumbling down on her head or that the lump she almost always carried in her throat would burst and rip a hole through her neck.

One day, while her ball and chain was away at work, she sat flipping through the channels, alone as usual, and finally came to rest on a channel that had brightly flickering colors that danced across her vision. It was just a commercial. The next commercial started up. It was an inspirational one that contained women reaching out to other women. The abuse must stop it said. There's a safe place for anyone that needs it, it said. She had never seen the commercial. She grew cold and a dewy sweat started up on her brow. Should she write the number down? Should she call it? Had she had enough? It was time. She started abruptly for some paper and a pen and jotted down the number for the help-line panting heavily. This was it.