The time was 8:30 am. She frantically rummaged through her cabinet, looking for any small amount left; anything remaining.

"No, no, no," mumbled a desperate, yet forgetful woman, her mouth quivering slightly. Mary left her bathroom and started toward the phone, on the night stand, next to her bed. She pressed the numbers in a panic,

"C'mon, damnit, pickup." A calm and educated voice could be heard on the other end.


"Doctor Adams!"

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

"Mary, I-I'm your patient, I need-"

"If you'd like to talk, you can schedule an appointment."

Anxiety slowly grew inside the woman, now on edge.

"I can't-I-I-need the-"

"Please schedule an appointment."

The call ended and Mary soon had an ominous realization of what was to come. As the clock turned to 8:47 am, she took a deep breath, struggling to calm down, as she threw on some old jeans and a grey sweater.

"Just one week, we can make it through, just one week," she attempted to reassure herself, tears running down her cheeks.

Mary knew these were only the hopeless words from some one who was now a lost cause. Perhaps she had always been that way; lost and not worth saving; she was alone.

She just had to manage until the end of the week, which she had never succeeded before. All she needed to do first was leave her apartment, make it outside, make it past her captor, who waited patiently on the other side of the door. Its hooves clamped around the wooden floor, out in the hallway.

Mary carefully walked to the door and opened it, "I-I just-I-j-j-" The uncontrollable paranoia stole her words, as the door slowly creaked. The hall was empty, save the sunlight from the windows, and the stairs to the left, graciously inviting her down to the first floor. Mary gave a short sigh of relief, as she quickly rushed down the stair case.

She made no hesitation and was soon in the lobby, but as she looked to the top of the stairs, her subtle joy instantly faded. Atop the first stair was a lamb, with snow white wool, and glowing white eyes locked directly with Mary's, whose own now watered with tears. Hurrying out the front doors, she desperately looked around. She needed to go anywhere, do anything to keep her mind off of what was happening. Everything she could think of; malls, walks, aimless taxi drives, anything to try and keep her anxiety under control. She could still see the lamb and it watched her every move, from a safe distance. She reverted to even doing things such as drugs, sex with strangers, wasting herself; things she never thought she'd see herself do. These things she regretted, but she thought that if her mind wasn't on the lamb, then it was worth it.

It didn't matter however, none of it really did. The more she tried to stop thinking, the more she actually did. This cycle of activities continued through out the week. Mary never went home, she couldn't take the risk of being trapped again. Her snow white captor was moving closer each day, no longer did it walk everywhere Mary went, it floated. It was feeding off of her, in some strange, disturbing manner.

Mary noticed that it felt almost as though the lamb gained some kind of sick enjoyment from this. A beer bottle in an alley way was spotted by the intoxicated woman. She grabbed it and violently threw it at the lamb. The bottle hit the ground next to the lamb, yet the creature was un-phased. Mary's aim was off, she was too drunk to see clearly.

"What, you like that?!" she cried, with a mix of anger and sadness. She stumbled through the dark alley, and towards the lamb,

"Yeah, you like hurting me, huh?"

Mary picked up another beer bottle, breaking it on the edge of a dumpster, leaving a sharp half.

"Y-You wanna cut me, hmm?" She waved the broken bottle in front of the lamb, in a tantalizing motion.

"Yeah, you wanna make me feel bad, don't you?"

The lamb floated motionless, spectating as usual.

"Here, take it, hurt me all you want, do it already!"

Bursting into tears, she dropped to her knees.

"I can't stop thinking, I can't stop thinking, I can't stop thinking." Mary began mumbling to herself repeatedly. Her grip on herself was loosening rapidly, her time was running out, she knew she couldn't keep this up for long.

Looking up, the lamb was directly in front of her face.

"No, I don't want to go home," she begged, like a frightened child.

A long chain fell out of the lamb's mouth, and quickly began embedding itself deep into Mary's leg, as though it had a mind of its own. Mary got up and ran as fast as she could, to evade her captor, but the chain only grew longer as it extended out of the lamb's mouth. She stumbled onto a parking lot, and another long chain shot out of the lamb's mouth, embedding itself into her other leg.

Becoming fully sober, Mary screamed and cried for help, but no one heard. Going into a panic attack while she ran, she lost her breath and passed out. A familiar cold, silent air surrounded her. She felt herself lying on a soft plain; a bed, her bed. Slowly she opened her eyes to find chains stemming from her limbs, leading to the mouth of the watchful lamb, who floated at the foot of her bed.

The time was 8:47 am.

"No!" she cried; she had never left her apartment. The lamb let out a disembodied baa sound, as another chain emerged from its mouth.

"Please, god no please!" The ghastly sound of the lamb grew louder, as the chain approached Mary's belly, before taking a pause. Mary continued weeping, she had lost all hope of escape.

"What do you want, what did I do?" The chain plunged forward, embedding itself into her stomach.

Strangely it kept going deeper, as blood soaked through her sweater. She wailed in agony, but was interrupted when another chain exited the lamb's mouth, shooting down Mary's throat, silencing her screams. Choking on the chain, spazing and twitching, until finally giving out, Mary died.

By the end of the week, her body was discovered. An officer walked in as the investigation finished. "Turns out this young lady was schizophrenic, a total nutcase," explained a detective at the scene. He pulled out an empty medicine bottle from Mary's bathroom cabinet, "she ran out of her meds, and the broad killed herself."

"Alright, we're done here," the officer said and the team exited the room, closing the door behind them. It was 8:30 am, in that room, a young woman frantically rummaged through her cabinet.