Dirty Window

“Somebody, please, help me!” Marie is banging on the filthy window, screaming for help that will not come. Under the layers of fear and the primal instinct for survival, she knows that nobody can see or hear her from the third floor of this long-forgotten house.
    The banging on the window is powerful is enough to disturb the whole building, but no one inside minds it. A floor below, clouds of dust barely big enough to make a mouse sneeze tumble from the walls at the command of her fists. The layer of dust on Ryan's face is thickening, and the same is happening to the rest of his body a few feet away.
    Thoughts are racing through Marie's head, with one replacing the last as soon as it is forms and none ever truly being focused. Beneath a steady stream of water, her eyes betray desire, regret, and fear. Is the desire to be home, to be with her family... to have Ryan back? Is the regret for ever having agreed to check out this seemingly abandoned house? There is no doubt that the fear is of what will happen next.
    A glimmer of cruel hope crosses her eyes as she spots Ryan's car parked in the distance. It's a safe haven, a place where some of the memories that made her who she is dwell. But the distance and grime of the window must have wiped that glimmer away, because her eyes are swelling with terror again.
    “No! Please, help!” She sobs to the open air as her fists pound the glass. She hits harder as footsteps begin to approach, but her hands are no match for the mighty aged glass. It's beginning to crack into a miserable spider web; she might have been able to break through with just a few more minutes. I almost feel sorry for her, but she should not have come to my home.