Time

 Sophia took the small piece of chalk and rolled it between her fingers. She stared at the chipped paint on her archway walls until the single line turned into four.

“Day four, already what have I been doing?” Sophia walked away from the wall and took her place back in front of her computer. She laid her fingers across the keys a,s,d and l,k,j. Slowly tapping her nails over every single letter, she repeated the number 25 in her head.

“You can do this; just write.” Sophia tried to encourage herself for what felt like hours. After typing one word onto a blank document, she decided her couch would be a better fit. The cold leather sofa was no match to Sophia’s current state of defeat. Her legs dangled off the edge of the couch, and the flame she used to light her cigarette flickered on the floral wallpaper that covered the ceiling.

“Five, ugh.” Sophia moaned while drawing her fifth line on the wall.

“Why is it that five days feel like a lifetime?” Walking around her lonely dark apartment, Sophia kept the blinds closed, hoping the darkness would help her to escape from her reality. Gazing into her galley kitchen, Sophia noticed an open bottle of whiskey on the cluttered container. One sip is okay; she assessed.

Stepping onto the frosty marble floor, Sophia reached past a pile of dirty dishes and grabbed her only clean cup. She poured over two ounces of whiskey into the glass and held it close to her chest. “Tomorrow, tomorrow is a new day. I’ll get it done then.” saying these words aloud seemed promising.

Sophia felt warmth and comfort from her raggedy brown quilt; she positioned herself in a fetal position near the corner of her apartment. A small slither of light came in through a cracked panel of her blinds, forcing Sophia to cover her face. Sleep was an unpredictable fate for her, and it was one that she wouldn’t fight.

“6,7,8,9,10” Counting the lines on her wall Sophia attempted to remember making these marks.

“How is this day eleven already? Was I sleep all this time?” There was no one in the room to answer these questions. Yet Sophia waited for someone to respond. She crawled over to where her computer rests on the floor. “Surely, I’ve written a lot and just don’t remember.” rummaging through her files, she opened the document titled ‘Novel.’ Breathing heavily, Sophia’s fingers hovered over the open tab. Her eyes widened when she saw what she had written. In large bold text, on a white document page sat four lines of the letter n.

“Shit!”

Sophia drew her twelfth mark on the wall; her hands trembled as she placed them back in her pockets.

“Twelve, Twelve, stupid number twelve.” Sophia sang. Her pajamas clung to her soiled body as she paced back and forth across her living room. For the past twelve days, Sophia kept her phone on silent. The only distraction she welcomed was herself. Although tempted, she knew that she would be overwhelmed with anxiety if she looked at her phone. “I’m sure Tim is wondering how things are going; maybe I can text him a message letting him know we’re all good. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.”

Sophia rushed to grabbed her phone from her desk drawer. She rubbed her dry fingers across the power button as the heavy traffic from outside blared through her apartment, causing her walls to rattled. Dropping her phone to the floor, she quickly covered her ears. Since she was a small child, loud noises scared her.

Stumbling back into the wall, Sophia wrapped her arms around her bare shoulders. The tears began to roll down her face when she laid eyes on her half-empty whiskey bottle. Quickly grabbing the bottle, Sophia curled up in the same spot on the floor that she had been in over the past few days. She drank until her chest was warm. With heavy eyes, Sophia fell into a deep sleep.

Through glossy red eyes, Sophia crawled to the wall and attempted to count the lines. Once again, she didn’t recall making any new markings, but somehow there was a total of 22 marks. 22 days have gone by, and Sophia was still in the same place. The low battery light on her computer flashed in the distance. Peeling her weak body off the floor, Sophia toppled over to her desk, plugged her computer charger into the outlet, and waited patiently for it to power on. Opening a blank document, she began typing.

The hours went by just as fast as the days. Sophia pulled at her shirt collar as the sweat beads dripped down the back of her neck. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the page number located at the bottom of her screen. Sophia rubbed her eyes, trying to focus on the number. The number one flashed in front of her eyes, and Sophia abruptly pushed herself away from her desk. She ran over to the wall and counted the numbers aloud.

“Three days left,” Sophia exclaimed.

“Three days.”

The room began to close in on Sophia. Darkness appeared where the sunlight once laid across her hardwood floor. The sudden weight of pressure pushed Sophia into a corner. She covered her eyes, wishing for her fear to disappear. Taking in a deep breath of stale air Sophia stared at the single light bulb in her livingroom as it flickered.

Sleep overcame her.

The sudden jerk Sophia felt forced her to open her eyes. She felt like she was going downhill on a steep rollercoaster. The train passing by her apartment felt like a nightmare that would never end. Sophia glared at the archway between her living room and kitchen. She was dreading what she already knew was to come. The chalk on her wall was smudged but visible. Sophia dragged her feet across the floor and stood uneasy while she counted the marks. The 25th line stood out like a sore thumb. Sophia missed her mark. She had 25 days to complete her novel. The publishers had given four extensions already.

Sophia knew she was doomed.