Room 22: Excerpt

Chapter 1

It was storming the night that Ian disappeared. Dylan had been sitting on his bed like he does every night, staring at the blank wall across from him when he heard the scream. It was sharp and piercing, and he couldn't help but cover his ears with his hands.

"Make it stop!" he yelled, knowing that no one could hear him through the soundproof walls. Finally, the name flashed through his head, Ian. The screaming stopped.

It was the same thing every Sunday. He would hear a scream echo through the halls of Creedmoore, and when everyone had free time out in the Yard the next day, there would be one less person joining them. Of course, every Wednesday someone new would show up to fill the empty room. Every week, like clockwork, for two years, the same thing, over and over and over again. It was enough to drive someone mad... as if everyone in here wasn't mad enough already.

Two years. He had been in this mental hospital for two years. He didn't know why they had kept him here so long. Everyone else got to leave after a month or two, except for him. And he was fine, too. Other than the random hallucinations, he was totally fine. He could leave any time he wanted and make it in the real world.

"Maybe next year," he mumbled to himself. "Maybe next year they will let me out of this hellhole."

Dylan stood up, making his way to the window. It was dismal outside, as if the rain from days prior had washed all of the life from the world. The ground didn't seem to be as wet as yesterday, and the sun had almost disappeared behind the tree line, leaving behind a few rays of light shining through the fog.

He turned around to look at his bed. It was arranged perfectly, as if he had never slept in it. No one else was in the room, and he had never made it up. Things like this happened all the time. Seeing things, hearing voices in his head. He sat down on the floor and let his back press up against the wall. It felt cool, like a gentle breeze was sweeping through the room. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander. He didn't know how much time had passed before he was catapulted into yet another dream.

He was sitting outside. The sun was bright and it was hot, but he was oddly cool. He looked up and saw that he was sitting under a tree. Alex and Ethan were sitting in front of him, kissing. How disgusting. Suddenly, Alex was standing, screaming at Ethan. Dylan watched, unmoving, as she pulled a steak knife out from her back pocket. The scene abruptly changed and now he was in the infirmary. Ethan was lying on the table, blood spurting from the multiple stab wounds in his stomach. There was an old woman pacing around the room, mumbling something about how this isn't the way it was supposed to happen.

"But it's not real," Dylan told himself.

He blinked and it was all gone. He was still in his tiny room in Creedmoore, and the bed was not made up. The walls were still a harsh white, and the floor was still a reflective tile. Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed in two years.