Silently Screaming

Prologue

What Alex wouldn't give for a cigarette right now.
Alexander Durst had checked into the hotel mere hours ago, shortly before the storm hit, so you could call him lucky, but it rendered him incredibly bored. His room would make any frequent-traveller cringe, with it's heavy bedcovers decorated by a horrible floral pattern, an obsolete television, a mysterious stain on the off-white carpet, dull wallpaper that was slightly peeling. And the pièce de résistance, a firm no-smoking policy, with a million reminders of it set up around the hotel. Why the staff thought the hotel was classy and family friendly enough to stop the guests from smoking, but not enough to put some club soda on whatever in God's name was on the carpet, Alex would never know.
After his phone died (which might have been due to the repeated refreshing of his email again and again and again), Alex's constant urge for a cigarette really began to hit. He considered jimmying open the window just to lean out and light one up, but it'd be like stepping into a shower. And Alex refused to leave his room until the conference, for fear of having to trudge around and see all the other middle-aged business men looking like they want to throw themselves out a window. Maybe it was because he knew that he was one of them.
The Marble Inn was a dank, depressing decoration to the melancholic, overcrowded street it resided on. It was enough to make Alex wonder if business executives purposefully chose places like this to hold meetings in an effort to give their employees a strong sense of animosity towards the world. It wouldn't be that surprising.

When watching the monotone umbrella-holders shuffling across the filthy sidewalk got boring, Alex flopped onto the stiff armchair and stared down at his legs. He began to draw things with his feet, tracing things into the old carpet with the tips of his toes. An eye, a spiral, his signature, a penis. Perhaps it was his immaturity that ended his marriage...
Some people may think that when you've been married to someone for almost 25 years and had already discovered you did not love them, you might as well just stay together, because you're already past your prime and still have the nagging fear of dying alone. Though this was true for Alex, it didn't stop him from signing the divorce papers. Abigail, or, when they were together, Abby, (Abigail has more of a 'ex-wife-ring' to it, like Sheila or Martha) was Alex's girlfriend of a few months back when they were in their mid-20's. They got along pretty well, and it was going rather casually until she got pregnant. Young Alex, the noble bastard, agreed to get married and raise their child together. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but after Jacob was born their relationship went downhill. It really wasn't Jake's fault, if anything he bonded his parents, but it may have been too much bonding. The fun quirks the two had when dating became pet peeves, and instead of communicating like a normal husband and wife, the two just bottled everything up. Finally, when Jake graduated college, Alex and Abby, power-couple extraordinaire, ended it. Quick, clean and civil. 

Soon, gazing at the cheap painting on the wall and regretting life choices, Alex decided he couldn't take it anymore. He would go downstairs, step outside, and have a long drag. To hell with the rain.
He quickly stood up and hurried towards the closet before double taking. Something wasn't right.
There was the door out of the room, with it's minuscule peep-hole and laminated emergency procedures. And on either side of it were two unremarkable doors, one being the closet, the other....
How had he not noticed it when he came in? He really was getting old... But where did it lead? Was it perhaps a door to a conjoined suite? It must be, but why are there no locks? Alex stepped forward and twisted the handle, which was, as he suspected, unlocked.
Without hesitation, he threw the door open. For a split second, Alex caught a glimpse of a darkness that seemed to go on for eternity. Then, everything lurched, and he was falling through the room, tumbling through an infinite chasm of darkness but also blinding light.
A voice, barely audible yet numbing, whispered out.
"Goodbye, Alexander."