The luminous clock stood stoically at her bedside, solitary and watchful. As she lay curled up, foetal-like, on her downy bed, the winds outside howled with a vengeance, clawing and whipping her hair into a frenzy.

The storm dragon unleashed its fury on the fortress of concrete and cement, rain pelting the windows with fat heavy water droplets, bouncing off the glass panels, as the earth seemed to cower beneath the anger of the storm. Doors and windows elsewhere banged shut, causing the figure huddled on the bed to cringe at the loud sound.

The storm had all the makings of the one that wiped her parents off the face of the earth, sending their car careening off the road down a slippery slope to their watery doom. She remembered that dark and stormy night, hiding under the covers of her bed for them to return and comfort her. But they never did. Memories of their good times together assailed her mercilessly, each onslaught striking greater waves of pain than the last.

Heavy rain obscured the rest of the world from her sight, isolating, cutting her off in a rancid ball of misery, fear and loneliness. Tight sobs gripped her in their vice as she fought bravely against the looming monster of fear, refusing to completely succumb to its reign. The gusting wind was its cold breath from its icy interior, washing over her, paralysing and freezing her thoughts with rank terror. Claps of thunder, its triumph bellows of laughter at her pathetic weakness, echoed throughout the room, mocking and harsh. The storm dragon threw down pulses of energy, jagged lightning that streaked through the sky, illuminating the world for a second with tantalising hope of an end, before disappearing to leave her all alone in the gloom again.

Alone. So alone, the monster taunted, breaking into a leering grin, laughing at the fear it inspired. She whimpered and curled up in a tighter ball, gripping her knees to her chest tightly, as she endured through a misery fog of fear and loss. She clenched her pyjamas tightly in her fists, holding on for dear life, as if it was her only anchorage to sanity. Although the windows were tightly shut she could feel the furious intent of the all-consuming wind on her face, greedily snatching away the rivulets of pearly tears that ran rivers down her cheeks.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting… For this living hell to end.