Tatum Donnelly (a_straychild) wrote in horror_story, @ 2012-11-03 11:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | complete, cycle001, tatum |
Who: Tatum and ____ [Open].
When: 10:30/11ish in the AM.
Where: Front porch, smoking area.
What: Tatum seems most comfortable outside the building, smoking in the storm. So she's doing more of it, after talking to the cops.
Warnings: None so far.
Tatum didn't really know what she expected to accomplish by heading up to the third floor, but anything was better than her own room, or the first floor in general. Hell, anything was better than being alone. Talking with the police hadn't been as awful or nerve wracking as she had expected it to be, but it had also really done next to nothing to put her at ease or change her mood. Archer just seemed like they were gathering information rather than actually solving anything. She knew that they needed to do one to accomplish the other, that was the whole point of sleuthing. But for everything she had told him, he had needed to run off and she still didn't know where CJ was, or what was going on around here. It was still blowing her mind how last night had been miserable, then awesome for a little while, and now today was miserable again, just a quick as flicking a switch. She decided hours ago that she should have expected this. Nothing could go entirely right for her.
Her face was stony and pale with worry as she rode the elevator up to two floors, hoping no one would get on with her anywhere in the middle. She couldn't handle small talk or awkward silences. She was lucky today, disembarking all alone on the third floor, but hesitating there as she considered her next plan of action. She had come up here because Lucretia's room was up here, yes, but what if Luce didn't want to see her? It was still early for some people, and she hadn't told her she was coming. What if she woke her up? What if she was already awake and still didn't want to see her? Tatum didn't know what she was going to do in that case. But she was here now, and with nowhere else to go.
Other than CJ, Luce was theoretically the next person that Tatum knew best in the whole building. Her room number was stuck in the back of her mind, 318, accompanied by the butterfly feeling in her gut that pretty girls always gave her. She didn't know where Nona, Teagan, or Bryant were staying specifically, although she vaguely thought at least one of them was on the first floor with her. Regardless, she didn't know any of them well enough to go bothering them. Bothering Luce was bad enough, and Tatum mentally prepped herself to be shot down as she headed for room 318, her head kept low as she walked and did her famous avoiding eye-contact trick.
She practically held her breath as she did finally reach Luce's door, halting outside and staring at it. She had, at least, changed into some fresh clothing before coming up. She had spent all of yesterday and this morning in her damp clothes from the night before, but she had needed to change after the interview with Archer, even if the thought of people watching her from in the walls made getting dressed a challenge. What did you try to cover up first, when people were watching you, possibly from anywhere? It was troubling, but she couldn't wear dirty clothes forever. She had hurriedly pulled on something warm and dry, though even the warm hug of her clean flannel shirt did nothing to lift her spirits. She had been craving breakfast earlier, oatmeal and toast specifically, but her appetite was shot now. Especially without any weed left now that CJ was gone. She could never eat a whole meal before noon with no spliff. Paler than usual, and even a little shaky, Tatum looked like death warmed over as she stood awkwardly outside of Luce's door, urging herself to just knock already.
"F-Fuck," she whispered weakly to herself, finally lifting her hand and using it to rap gently on the brunette's door. She waited for an answer, nervously pulling her hat down over her forehead and eyes, hiding under the brim. If Luce didn't want to see her, or thought she was nuts, that was fine. She just wanted to get it all over with quickly.
But she stood there for a few moments, what felt like an eternity to her, and received no answer. She felt like an absolute creep, just standing there stiffly in the hallway and she quickly hurried off, taking the stairs down to the lobby and using the alone time in the stairwell to compose herself again. Maybe she was out. Or maybe she had looked out through the peep hole and decided not to answer when she saw it was her. Tatum couldn't say, but worrying about which it was made her feel sick. Now what was she supposed to do?
She decided to do the first thing she thought of, feeling the weight of her cigarette pack in the jeans pocket, and heading for the front doors as soon as she reached the lobby. Wind almost pulled her hat off when she got outside, but she held it down and hurried over to where she had been just a few hours earlier, calling the police. With the CJ the night before. She kept coming back to this smoking spot, and things weren't getting any better. She was shielded from the weather a bit at least by the porch, enough to get a cigarette between her lips, lighting it up with shaky hands.