Beca never understood clocks. Yes they told the time but they were irritating. Every hostel room had one nailed to a wall somewhere. She hated it. In any moments of calm all she heard was the clock. Tick, tick, tick. The harder she tried ignoring it, the louder it got. Especially when she was trying to sleep. TICK. TICK. TICK. Some nights it got so bad, she felt like she slept in the Big Ben in London.

"God damn stupid clock" she yelled. She chucked a boot at it in the hopes it might silence it. But to her, the clock seemed to get louder as if it was taunting her.

"For fuck sake. Stop with the bloody ticking. Let me sleep damn it. I fucking hate you." She muttered to the clock.

Tick Tick Tick

A chill went down her spine. The sound burned her ears.

She leaped out of bed grabbed her other boot and attacked the clock. In minutes the only remains were shards of smashed clock on the floor and the imprint the clock had made on her wall.

'Ahhh Silence' she thought.

She hoped back into bed, snuggling deep into her blankets and finally fell asleep.

' Summer has come and passed, the innocent can never last,wake me up when September ends...'

Off went Beca's alarm. 9am sharp, just like every other Thursday. Today was therapy day. Or Therapy Thursday as Beca called it.

With a soft groan, Beca stretched out her body and opened her eyes, squinting as the day light hit her.

She looked out the window. Rain. She smiled.

For some reason rain made her bubble inside. The sound and feel of it gave her goosebumps. She didn't know what it was but something about the rain put her at ease. Maybe because she felt she related to the rain. She soaked in all her pain until it came out. Either causing destruction or well, she didn't know what the other side was. But she hoped she could be it. The beautiful side, the side that makes the prettiest rainbows and the biggest smiles.

She opened the curtain, hoped out the bed and put on her clothes. Checking the time as she left the room.

"Shit, 9:45, I'm going to be late"
She ran down the hostel stairs, flung open the front door and ran to the bus shelter down the street.

The bus pulled up 5 minutes late. 'Why today' Beca remarked to no one in particular. She paid for her ticket and sat at the back.

She rolled down her sleeve and wiped the dust off the window. The bus moved forward lethargically. Every minute felt like ten. 'Why is the bus sooo slow?' She thought to herself.

10am. She had half hour to get to her appointment or she'd be late. One more lateness could cost her dearly.

She had the hostel room conditionally. Attended every therapy session. 3 lates or misses and you're out. She didn't like the thought of the consequences so she always tried her best to keep on time. Unfortunately, buses were not in her favour and she had been late twice already. She sat longing the bus to go faster. With a slight jolt the bus sped up as if the bus driver himself has access to her thoughts.

The bus pulled up to the therapy building with 5 minutes to spare. She ran through the open door, climbed three flights of stairs and made it just as the therapist opened the door to call her in. Beca sighed with relief.

"Beca Mitchell, just in the knick of time I see... Please, come in."

Beca walked into the therapy office. She was always fascinated by its decor. Mahogany desk, swivel chair, plaque that read: 'Dr. R.S Gordon' as she read the plaque for what felt like the millionth time, her eye caught Dr Gordon tapping her foot pointing to the sofa across from her.

"Today please Beca. Sit"

Beca sat on the sofa, sinking in as it engulfed her.

"So Beca, last appointment you were telling me about your school and netball. I believe you were about to tell me about the night..."

Beca zoned out. She could still hear Dr Gordon. She wanted to know about the night Beca was sexually assaulted. Beca hated talking about it. It made her vulnerable. Every time the topic came up she went on auto pilot. Minimal answers but relevant. But today, Beca was forcing herself to relive it. She was hoping it'd kick in the new life she wanted. She was finally going to tell the full story.