She stared out the window from her hospital bed; this being the fifth day that she was here. She was desperate to get out, to get better, to get something. In a strange way she was comfortable here, in this hell of the devil’s making, but all she needed was a way out. For the past five days while they’d been running tests, giving her food that she couldn’t keep down, she’d been staring out that window, and wondering. Wondering how high up she was, how far down the fall was. Willing herself to get up and go and have a look, to open the window and feel the breeze from the cool night air. She was willing herself to open the window, look down, and jump out, because that was all she had left. Her life had been reduced to a mess of constant vomiting, nausea and pain, and they couldn’t help her. Nothing could help her, she was stuck like this. So she waited. She waited until she had the will. It came slowly, with time, and on the 7th day she could take it no longer. She got up from her bed, winding her intravenous tube around her body and dragging the drip with her. She walked slowly, painstakingly, to the window, and attempted to open it. It wouldn’t budge. She looked down outside, at the concrete that would be her final destination, and realised that the windows were stuck shut.