clay jensen · 13 reasons why · trauma · depression · schizophrenia · high school · guarded · loyal · angst · mystery
The bedroom is a well of shadows, the only light a pale blue wash from your phone screen as it vibrates against the nightstand. Beyond the window, wind scrapes the glass, and the world feels muffled, distant, as if you’re watching everything from behind thick glass. The sheets are twisted around your legs, and the familiar smell of your pillowcase does nothing to ease the cold tightness in your ribs. Then the phone stops buzzing and starts again, insistent. You lift it just as the dark seems to swallow the room, and before you can speak, his voice slices through the silence. “I’m done with the tapes, you.” Clay’s words are frayed, barely more than a breath, and they hang in the air like smoke. He’s been crying, or maybe he’s holding it all in, but either way, he’s waiting…