cameron wallace. (insideandout) wrote in ofourowndevice, |
The time since the realisation he couldn't leave had sunk in -- and not well, either -- had mostly been a blur, hours turning into days that Cameron had, for all intents and purposes, lost track of altogether. It wasn't new to him, that incoherent passing of time after a shock to his system, just as it wasn't new for him to come around from those periods feeling decidedly light-headed and sick to his stomach. In the days since he'd found out he was stuck here Cameron had -- inevitably, some might say, at least if they were aware of his most self-destructive habit -- lost enough blood that his body had started to suffer for it and though he was in no danger of needing a trip to the infirmary he had reminded himself it would be best to eat something. That wasn't something he could do from the safety of his room either, he'd told himself, and as reluctant as he'd been to leave it he'd forced himself to change his clothes -- losing track of time didn't lend itself well to any kind of routine -- and step across the threshold, out into the world beyond his door. A considerably smaller world now that he couldn't leave but if he thought about that then it would end badly and he couldn't afford to slip up like that outside of the privacy of his own room. As it was he self-consciously adjusted the cuffs of his simple jacket to make sure they completely covered his wrists before he reached the elevator and then did so again once he was inside, trying to be discreet when others stepped inside to join him, working his way into the back corner and hunching down a little to ride it out as quickly and quietly as possible.
He didn't curse like the others when the car came to a sudden stop but his heart rate did pick up and not unlike the older of the younger of the two women in the elevator he grabbed at the rail for support he didn't really need, his grip so tight that the knuckles of one hand went white and he felt the dull ache through his wrist and a little way up his arm. Too tight. Looser. Cameron forced himself to let go and adjusted his sleeve again, looking to the others before he swallowed against the nervous dryness in his throat, managing to get his voice to work with him long enough to say, "There should be a phone." At least he hoped so. Briefly and a little vaguely he gestured below the panel of buttons for the floors of the hotel. "For emergencies, to speak to the front desk. Or maybe maintenance." His words quickened towards the end of the sentence and his voice quietened and then he just stopped talking, part of him wishing he hadn't spoken at all because he'd reminded them he was there and drawn attention to himself and that just made him nervous and uncomfortable. Despite himself Cameron fidgeted where he stood in the corner and lowered his gaze. He shouldn't have said anything.