Lucy woke up feeling frustrated as the ticking had started again. She clenched her teeth. It was bad enough to be plagued by persistent nightmares; she definitely didn’t need this incessant ticking noise to torment her further.

tick… tick… tick…

Lucy didn’t own a mechanical clock. Nothing hung on her walls, certainly not something as ugly and worthless as a clock. Yet no matter where she searched, the kitchen cupboards, the TV stand drawers, even under the bathroom sink, she found nothing.
Was it a prank? Maria from Sales? Or the boys in the workshop, who loved messing with the office staff? A darker thought seeped in: Were the neighbors trying to harm her again? Last month, they’d filed a noise complaint after she’d screamed in her sleep. The ticking, though faint, grew heavier with each passing second, burrowing deeper into her mind. For hours, she scrutinized every inch of her apartment. At work, Maria had once sighed when Lucy asked for a favor, was this retaliation? They weren’t enemies, but they weren’t friends either.
Reading usually offered solace, a temporary escape. When she distracted herself, the noise dulled slightly, but the moment she paused, it returned. Had Maria done this because of that remark about her boyfriend flirting with her? Lucy yanked open the fridge again, rifling through containers—still nothing.
In a fit of desperation, she called her neighbor, screaming at him to stop the noise. When the man knocked on her door, she collapsed at his feet. But unable to help, he left hurriedly. Exhausted, Lucy flung herself onto the bed, but the ticking only amplified. The workshop boys’ joke about her makeup resurfaced in her mind, feeding her agitation. She took the sheet off, peered under the bed—nothing.
Then, the neighbors returned with the police. “You’d be better off somewhere else,” they insisted. Lucy, too drained to resist, agreed.
Yet in the patrol car, the ticking persisted, louder, as if feeding on her panic. She frantically checked her coat pockets, her shoes, her clothes—nothing. When the car stopped, a man in white reached for her. Lucy kicked, and fought, then darkness. She awoke in a sterile room, a single bed bolted to the floor. The ticking drilled into her skull. When she screamed, it faded, just for a moment. So she screamed again. And again. Now, she finally found a way to silence the ticking. All she had to do was to never stop screaming.