Stockholm Syndrome || Dream x Reader || DreamWasTaken x Fem!Reader || <3

Maybe A Little (13)

2 Weeks Later
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I'm still in the hospital, since my wound was fatal. I've spent the last couple weeks laying in bed, and moping around. I don't feel like doing shit.

It's currently 1:15pm, and I'm absolutely exhausted. I've gotten 0 sleep in the last two weeks, since I've stayed up every night thinking of Clay.

Why did he do this to me? He hurt my family- He hurt me- And yet I can't get him out of my head. I miss him so much, even though I know I shouldn't. God, what has my life become?

In all honestly, I've been nothing but depressed these last few weeks. No one ever visits me, I'm in loads of pain, and I just can't get over what happened..

I can't  keep living like this. I need to talk to Clay. I grabbed my phone, and dialed his number.

1 ring.

2 rings..

3 rings...

4 rings....

5 rings.....

Your call has been forwarded to an au- "Ugh. I'll try again." I redialed his number.

1 ring.

2 rings..

3 rings...

4 rings....

5 rings.....

Your call has been forwarded to an au- "Damnit!"

He won't answer me.

I knew from talking to him that Nick wasn't staying with George and Clay, (for obvious reasons) so I called the only person I could. 

George.

I dialed his number, and he answered almost immediately. "What." He said, sounding annoyed. "What's Clay doing?" I asked, worry apparent in my voice.

"How am I supposed to know? He hasn't left his f*ckin room in weeks. He just sits and cries all day. It's f*cking annoying." My eyes widened. "What?! Why haven't you made him come out?!" I half yelled.

"I don't feel like it. And I don't feel like talking to you, either. Bye." He said. "George wai—"

beep

beep

beep

"F*ck!" I said, practically jumping out of the hospital bed. I ran out of my room, and into the lobby area. No doctors or nurses were out there, so I was able to get out without anyone speaking to me.

Despite the excruciating pain I was in, I ran as fast as I could towards Clay's house.

When I finally arrived, I didn't even bother knocking. I burst through the door. "What the hell?!" Yelled George.

I ignored him, running up to Clay's room. I put my ear to the door, to hear quiet sniffles. I gently knocked on the door.

"I'm busy.." I heard him say, voice cracking every few syllables. I sighed, before opening the door. I looked at Clay. He was laying in his bed, eyes red and puffy, surrounded by tissues. God, it broke my heart to see him like this.