The girl, she sits in a corner, knees tucked up to her chest. It's freeing in the small, grey room. The ceiling is caved in; it is no longer a shelter...in fact, it never was. All the girl wanted to do was to get out of there alive. That's all she ever wanted. But she sits in her corner every day, hiding from her alcohalic dad, hiding from the Wooden Stick that has given her so many bruises.

The walls around her are demolished, broken down shingles. The girl sees a little mouse scurrying to its hole.


The girl, she sits in a corner, knees tucked up to her chest. She is waiting. Waiting for a saviour.