[of our own device]

Who: Lina and Charlie
Where: Ignite Bar
When: late evening, around 9pm

( No, I think it looked a little better on me )

Who: Cameron.
Where: Cameron’s room.
When: Early morning.
Warnings: Triggers for self-harm.

It was still light by the time he made it back to his room, his thoughts scattered and his hands shaking so badly that he almost couldn’t twist the doorknob to get inside. He had the same trouble twisting the lock once he was inside to seal himself in, seal everyone else out, shut the world out and keep it away. His fingers felt clumsy and uncoordinated and his stomach was a tight knot, almost painful. Awkwardly he crossed to the window looking out and drew the curtains, pulling them a little harder than was necessary but not even hearing the rings rattle in protest on the rail overhead. Cameron was physically present but mentally he was elsewhere. Emotionally was anyone’s guess. Mentally he was still down in the lobby trying to figure out why he couldn’t leave, why he couldn’t get back on his way. When he’d left his wretched little apartment it had been with the intention of trying to turn his life around -- or at least try -- and now to find out that he couldn’t do that, that some force he couldn’t possibly understand was keeping him from doing so, ( it was more than he could take. )