The glass was neither half full or half empty, it was just empty. The liquid that had previously occupied the glass had drained due to the crack in the glass, even though the glass could not hold any liquid, Dalilah continued to refill the glass, allowing the water to drip into a small puddle on the hardwood floor. The dripping of the water calmed her, it was the only thing that kept her sane in this pitch black room, as there was no windows and no light, just a bucket of water and a cracked cup, which the man provided her each day, or at least that is what Dalilah assumed, as she wasn’t really sure how much time had passed since she’d been here. It could’ve been days or it could’ve been months. She didn’t know who the man was, never got a good look at him, as he’d grabbed her from behind one late night when she was walking home from a closing shift at her job. The water stopped dripping and Dalilah knew she needed to refill it, this time she counted how many times it dripped before it was empty. 384 was the number.