<p><span lang="EN-US" data-contrast="none"><strong>The following piece was awarded Third Prize in the OU Students Association Freshers Writing Competition for Freshers Fortnight 2023 (25 Sept &#8211; 8 Oct). The author, Courteney, lives in Glasgow and is studying BA (Hons) Arts and Humanities.</strong></span></p>
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<p>Tick</p>
<p>She throws her unruly hair into a bun, fighting with her tangled curls and forcing them through an unyielding hair band. She scuffles out the door, a piece of burnt toast is held between her unbrushed teeth</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>He tries to wind down for an uncomfortable night ahead, with nothing but the blackness of night telling him to sleep</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>She rushes through the crowd to catch the subway. Weaving in and out like a spider, mapping out her path. She wills the doors to stay open for just a second longer</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>Tossing and turning. He lays awake as his straw mattress digs and carves into his flesh. Worried for what’s to come. Time moves menacingly slow</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>9am. She gets to work on time, just. She fumbles through her desk. If she could only just find that…</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>4am. He awakens after a sleep, so broken and tired. He is cold. Fearful, he steps outside. He sees no one. The calm before the storm</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>She stops for lunch. Her chocolate isn’t in her bag. The coffee machine is broken. She skips lunch and goes home early</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>His increasing fear for his family’s safety is heightened as daylight begins to appear. He kisses his daughter’s forehead and remembers how soft her skin felt when she was born</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>She clocks out early, sauntering along the pavement to the subway, after stopping for a double espresso. She misses the first subway and now waits 10 minutes. Boredom engulfs her. She wants to go home</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>He hears footsteps. Unfamiliar. Heavy. He wants to flee</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>She unwinds on her couch, glass of rose’ in hand. The glass presses to her lips as the wine trickles down her throat. She turns on the TV and falls into a peaceful slumber</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>He lays under a tarp, thick with dust. He shields his family. Blood races towards his head. Dizziness is spiralling as he struggles to breathe</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>She awakens to the startling rhythm of the opening music to an advertisement. Blaring. She meanders through to her room, falling swiftly onto her Egyptian cotton sheets</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>He cowers as his rickety door is swung open. His heart is racing so fast he thinks it might take flight. His precious life is on the line. His family’s. He needs more time</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>7am. Saturday. A bath is filling up with essential oils. Lavender and rose. She inhales the soft aroma as she makes breakfast. Hours later, she will meet her friend for lunch. Time is on her side</p>
<p>Tick</p>
<p>2pm. Saturday. He looks up. Three men dressed in black tower above him, engulfing the room. Their faces are concealed. Their eyes menacing. He says a prayer over his family, apprehensively embracing the end. Time is up.</p>

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