camber (negativecamber) wrote in playinghouse, @ 2012-09-09 22:32:00 |
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Current mood: | depressed |
everything stripped away
Who: Camber (and open)
Where: Cam's room and the game room
When: Mid-morning
Cam had kept fairly busy that first day of no caffeine, no cigarettes, nothing. She'd been expecting to come back to her room the night before, expecting to write some frustrated lyrics and let herself fall into bed: what she'd found instead was a fucking scrawled note in her diary.
It had bothered her more than she'd let herself show. It was so inane, so personal: it had to have come from someone in the house. How could she have been so stupid? To leave her door unlocked, her things just open to whoever wanted them? She knew better than that. To trust people to be actual human beings to each other. Yet somehow she'd never thought anyone would even care enough.
Was it even someone she'd met? If they could take her cigarettes, her alcohol, they could certainly try to fuck with her mind. Make her not trust her housemates.
She'd scrawled back angrily: I don't fucking care, threw it across the room and gone to bed, plagued by nightmares of friends back home whose faces kept melting into the same nondescript mask.
This morning all she wanted to do was relax. She couldn't smoke; she couldn't have a drink, which she almost would have resorted to. Maybe a bath.
When she got there, she realized something was very wrong. The bathroom was half empty of the makeup scattered across the counter area the day before. Her makeup remover was gone. Her shampoo and soap was there, but her pomade wasn't.
"Fuck you," she yelled at nothing, suddenly awake and storming back into the bedroom. Her necklaces from last night were gone, the dog tags she never let leave her bedside. Her clothes weren't on the floor anymore from yesterday. Her shoes.
Staring in the mirror, even her lip ring was gone. Her heart hammered in her ears. How the fuck could that have been removed? In her sleep? Were they drugging her? Had this been done to everyone? Camber struggled to calm herself.
She slid the dresser open numbly and stared at a couple solid t-shirts, and two pairs of blue jeans that she rarely wore. Gone. Everything was gone. Her plugs. Her bracelets. The couple of eyeliners she hadn't worn yet.
"No, no, fuck you," she breathed and scrambled backwards on the bed, curling up. This shouldn't be bothering her. On any day she might choose to wear nothing but a white tank top and jeans. She might not even brush her hair. Okay, she rarely left the house without her usual joker-mask of lipstick and raccoony eyeliner, but she MIGHT choose not to, especially if she was staying in. It shouldn't be freaking her out so bad. Why?
Because they can get anywhere, she answered herself unhesitatingly. They can do whatever they want, that's what Delaney had said last night and she knew it was true. Even to her body. She touched her lip again.
She sat on the bed for what felt like a long time before finally getting up. You can't let them beat you. They're not going to beat you.
She pulled on the apparent uniform of the day, before leaving her completely violated room, not even hers anymore, and flopping down in the game room with absolutely no concern for the furniture. Cam needed something to kill.