Charlie Hadn't Thought of a Tally System

They had been here for…. A while. Charlie could see the sun through the tower window so they knew it was daytime but besides that?

Charlie started the day just like every other one; pruning their flowers.

They knew they weren't going anywhere just like yesterday, and the day before, and th-- you get the point. So they didn’t change and they didn’t put on makeup and they didn’t brush their hair. It isn’t like there was much to brush, Charlie had cut it short the day they realized nobody was coming to get them.

That day hadn’t really been anything special either, it was cold and they had run out of candles to burn so that Father could find them. He had always left Charlie with enough candles to burn continuously until he came back, he had never been late. 

So they had taken all the remaining wax and put it in one of the buckets in the tower. Charlie had thought that they might figure out how to make more candles out of the leftovers. They hadn’t yet.

They should know what day it was, but then again, Father had always announced the day when he returned so Charlie had never bothered to remember while he was gone. That was a mistake.

When he didn’t come back a long time after the last candle Charlie had tried to figure out how long he had been gone. They knew that Father had left at dawn, and he had promised to return in three dawns. But they hadn’t been counting after the third day, since it wasn’t doing them any good. Then they had run out of candles a long time after that and they hadn’t thought to count the days since then. 

But Charlie had woken this morning suddenly terrified because they didn’t know what day it was. It didn’t make sense because they hadn’t cared once before so why should they now? Except they did care, Charlie cared so much it hurt and they had no idea what to do. 

Charlie knew for certain they had been ten years old when Father didn’t return. It had been six cycles since then.

Charlie came back into awareness when they pricked their finger on a rose bush.

“Shit!” Charlie shouted and jumped at the unexpected pain.

One would think that they had known by now not to drift away when pruning roses, and yet here they were rushing towards the sink.

While washing their hands of dirt and cleaning out the cut they drifted once more.

Six cycles from ten made them sixteen, had they really been gardening and sleeping in this stupid tower for six years? It appears so, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t tried to leave, but they had cut their hair.

Father had always kept their hair long and maintained because it meant nobody could get to the tower unless Charlie let them in. But Charlie had been angry and hurt, because Father hadn’t come back and he never would.

They had run to their shears and pressed them against their chest, so angry and lonely all of the sudden that they couldn’t breath. But as they sat there they realized they didn’t want to die. They just wanted to live, truly and freely. So in a split second rebellion against a probably dead man they had cut their long, long hair. 

It had felt so freeing to be able to move and exist more comfortably in their own skin.

They had spent the next six years chasing that high. 

Charlie had searched the tower for rope, or stairs, or even a ladder so many times they had lost count. Father hadn’t kept a rope, because their hair had been long enough but the hair was gone.

Well, it still exists but not here. Charlie had thrown it out the window chasing that feeling again, that hadn’t worked and now they just felt stupid.

They had tried shouting their voice hoarse but there was nobody to hear it. 

Sometime after shouting into the void for the millionth time they had given up on rescue too.

Charlie shook their head, it was incredibly depressing to think about how often they had to give up. It was fine, they were fine. Charlie did not need the day number, they knew it had been six years since the candles and sixteen since they were born. 

They went about the tower cleaning and organizing. They had long given up on painting, materials had to be brought in and they didn’t have any left.

Charlie ate vegetables, it was the only thing that they had.

Charlie read the same book again, it was the only thing that they had.

Charlie went to bed early, there wasn’t anything else to do.

They woke again the next day and thought about pruning the roses, or picking vegetables to store, or even looking for an escape again. They went back to sleep.

Some time later Charlie shot upright in bed, it was dark and cold and lonely. It was always lonely but they weren’t usually awake at night.

They had no idea what woke them, it wasn’t the sun and they weren’t hungry so there was no reason for Charlie to be awake. 

Suddenly there was a loud noise from outside the tower, “Hello?” Charlie called.

There it was again! A loud thump that shook the tower. “Is… is someone there?” they called out barely daring to hope.

“What? Is someone talking?” called a voice from the bottom of the tower.

Charlie dove out of bed, running towards the window, “Yes! Yes I am here! Please tell me that someone is out there!”

The voice spoke again, “Yes! I’m here. Who is this?”

“I’m Charlie! I’ve been trapped here, who are you?”

“I am Fiona, I’ve been looking across the country for trapped people. I used to be in a tower too! Do you have a way down?” Fiona called up.

Charlie laughed fro the first time in a long time, “If I had a way out I would be gone by now, can you get me out of here?”

“Fair, uh yeah, I have a rope, do you think you can catch it if I throw it?”

“Yes I can try!”

Fiona threw up one end of a rope, there was a weight tied to it.

Charlie missed the rope two times before they caught it. 

“I’ve got it, I’m gonna tie it down and climb out.” Charlie called down the tower.

They changed into the only thing that sort of fit and climbed down the rope.