Screaming Silence| DNF

Chapter One

Tw- Brief mentions of scars, cuts, and bruises, signs of PTSD, swearing, and short description of blood.

Please tell me if there are any spelling errors, grammatical errors, or tenses errors I try to look over it but sometimes I miss stuff.  :)

Dream's POV:

Clay stepped into the cheap hotel room, and dropped his bag by his side. He would put it somewhere more convenient later. Right now, his arms were tired, and his back ached. After driving for two hours and walking for who knows how long with a backpack weighing probably almost as much as he did, he couldn't care less where in the room he dropped the old thing.

He couldn't care less about texting his overly anxious mother that he had arrived at the hotel safely. He couldn't care less about changing into clothes other than his scratchy jeans and T-shirt stained with ketchup from the food he had stopped for on the drive over. He couldn't care less about just how terrible the room looked with broken floor boards and bedsheets that would more likely than not show stains of various bodily fluids if he were to hold a blue light up to them. He couldn't care less about what time it was. All he cared about was finally letting his legs give out, and letting himself submit to the emptiness of his subconscious.

His mind was hollow.

He didn't dream.

~~~~~~~~~~

Clay woke up to a cold breeze coming through a crack in his window. He shivered and clawed at the blankets, desperately searching for warmth without having to get up. At a loss, Clay glared at the window by his bedside, and crawled out of the mess of blankets tangled around his body.

As he approached the window and as his vision became more clear, he started to realize that there wasn't much he could do about the situation. The window was already shut, and he didn't have the supplies to fix a broken window. Not that he knew how to do that in the first place. Nor was it his job to.

He should call the front desk.

Clay walked around to the other side of his bed to the small, worn down night stand holding an old, pale yellow phone with a curly cord. He picked up the phone and went to press the button before he noticed how much of the paint had peeled off of the white, rubber buttons. He took another glance around his room, and immediately put the phone back in its holder.

He had decided to stay in a cheap hotel because he couldn't afford the only other option. He knew what he was in for when he purchased the room. The front desk most likely wouldn't do anything about the broken window. If they were able to afford it, the room wouldn't be in this bad of condition in the first place.

Sitting back down on the unmade bed, he pulled out his phone to check the time.

3:48 am.

He had only been sleeping for a few hours, but he knew that if he tried to go back to bed, he would no longer be able to fall asleep. There wasn't much to do at almost 4:00 in the morning.

He could go on his phone, but he was more than certain that the wifi was going to be terrible in a place like this. He could read, but the only book in arms reach was the bible he was sure was in the drawer of the night stand beside him, and he had never really been the religious type. He could go for a walk, but he was sure that the neighbourhood wasn't great.

He felt defeated.

So, in ultimate boredom, he got up from the uncomfortable mattress that was most likely almost never used for sleeping, and made his way to the broken window, pulling up the handle so that the window was fully open.