"I'm scared" a voice calls out.

You inhale slowly and rest the back of your head against the wall. The cool floor is a comforting distraction and you spread your legs forward out to maximise the feeling.

"I'm scared?" the voice repeats, this time with more urgency but unsure of itself. Unsure whether to be scared or not, seeking reassurance one way or the other. You look over and see him standing by the window but looking into the room, scanning the room. Maybe he will shut up soon you think and close your eyes, bringing your knees up to your chest to lean your head on them. No one has any energy to reply.

I place my hand on your shoulder and lightly push down, enough to wake you but hopefully not startle you. There is enough to be jumpy about and waking up from a nap doesn't need to be another one. I get no response. I move my hand on your cotton t-shirt, just my fingertips making contact. You take in a sharp breath, I see your head move on your knees and you slowly move your head. I walk over to the window and find him lay on the ground, his t-shirt wrapped into a ball under his head. A smart makeshift pillow on this stone floor, actually doubly smart as it also increases the skin contact with the cool floor. I do the same thing I did to you and that is enough to startle him.

I sit against an empty wall. You break the silence with your observation that we should try to get out of this house as soon as possible. It didn't need to be said because we've all been thinking and saying it for half a day now. None of us know how to do what you suggested as we look at each other in silence once again.

You move your hand over the floor collecting the dirt between your fingertips and spread it across them making circular patterns. This ritual seems to be the most important thing happening to all of us. You gaze past your fingers and the floor as you repeat the action. I look at you as you continue to do this. He is hovering against the window again but mesmerised by the movement of your right hand.

"What if we jump? It's only the first floor and I am sure we won't really be hurt? A few scrapes and cuts maybe but nothing broken…nothing serious…nothing compared to…" his voice trailed off, his eyes still fixed on your fingers.

 You walk over to the window and open it all the way. It's one of those that open all the way so there is no need to break it and create a hazard in the landing area, finally some luck. He helps you onto the ledge as I ease myself up and walk towards you. You look at me before closely your eyes and letting out a sigh saying, "I fucking hate flying cockroaches" as you let go.

Imran Jamal is an organiser and researcher.