scars

still don’t own any of these characters…damn it! Nor Jack Daniels, although I certainly
could go for a drunk Otis myself!
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I awoke with a snap. Otis moaned softly in my arms. I scanned the room in
a panic. It was all a dream. A really, really fucked up dream but yet one nonetheless.
I wonder if I was getting Cutter's penchant for nightmares. Otis moaned irritably
in my arms. I looked down at him snuggled next to my body. His albino
skin was the same that long silky hair framing his face. I stroked a few
strands out of his eyes thankful that it wasn't the stringy grayish mane I had
dreamed about. I studied his features. He was clean-shaven and his skin was smooth
unlike my dream. He sighed before nuzzling further into the protective hollow of
my body. What a fucked up dream. I had been killed, I think, in some
police shootout. The brother of one of Mama's toys who had come off of his hinges
had hunted us down. Did she shoot him in the head? I think I remember him, he was
a sheriff. His head was still in the fridge. But the man didn't have any relatives. In
the end the entire family was wiped out. Even Tiny had perished in a house fire. Otis
stirred in my arms. "Shh..." I whispered to him, stroking his hair. "Everything's okay."
I swear sometimes it is almost like he can sense things. He can pick up people's
emotions. It makes for a damn good hunter, I might add. I was trying to still my own
racing heart. It sounded like thunder in the silence of the house. I could hear Otis's
breathing slowing as he descended back into sleep. I carefully rested a hand on his
chest; I couldn't feel the rattle of his breath. A sigh of relief escaped from me. I had
come too far with him to have sickness claim him. I checked his blankets and pulled
him closer to me. I closed my eyes and let sleep begin to take me. In my last few
moments of lucidity I whispered in the dark, "I love you." I think I was too tired
because it felt as if his face changed, that he was smiling.

Day came too soon. Grandpa had mentioned taking out his stitches
today. Otis had put me outside of his emotional wall again. The basic fuck-you-Rufus
I had become accustomed to. He was pissed off and irritable. "Means he's getting
better" echoed to me. For the gods's sake, Baby, you had better be right.
Because if this goes on much longer I am going to beat the living shit out of him. I
was trying to get Otis to eat, a feat in itself. He snarled at me finally shoving me off
of the bed. My rage was nearly brimming over as I glared at him. He regarded me
with frozen hate, narrowing those red eyes at me. His expressions always conveyed
exactly what he was thinking. We stood there in a standoff, eyes locked on each other.
Then he did the ultimate to piss me off. He snorted at me and rolled over to face the
wall. That fucker had the balls to ignore me! I wanted to strangle his lanky ass right
then and there. You want to be sweet and cute all night and a fuckhead by day, by all
means, Whitey. Then something strange came over me, almost like demonic
possession. I kicked him as hard as I could in the ass. My body betrayed my brain
which was screaming for me to stop before I had one pissed off psychotic albino
clinging and clawing my face. I have never seen in all of my life a human being do a
complete flip around in mid-air before. Otis's jaw had dropped initially in an
expression of outrage and shock. If I wasn’t pissed at him I would think the look was
quite comical. But then it was transformed into a mask of rage. Then I did the
unthinkable. Somehow either through stupidity or sleep deprivation I threw Otis's water
in his face and stormed out the door. Did I mention the satisfaction I got from watching
him through the door's crack as he sat up in bed trying to comprehend what had just
occurred. You want to be a shithead, Otis, so can I. In a triumphant moment I spun on
my heel and began to walk away.

It was then that I halted realizing that I had a very pissed off Baby glaring up at me.
"I hope you are fucking satisfied." She mewled. Actually, my sweet little sister, I am.

"Why is that?" Maybe I could piss both of them off today. Baby and Otis were great
fun when both agitated because it was only a matter of time, if they could find no way
to vent their frustration, that they turned on each other in a vicious sibling spat that
looked and sounded like two badgers fighting over a den. These spats always ended up
with him trying to get back in her good graces and she would use it as leverage for
something she wanted. Within hours it was like nothing had ever happened. Usually
she would use her bargaining chip to get his prospective bedmate of the night. Insult
on top of injury. I realized after my contemplation that she was staring at me.

"Because I'm the one who has to deal with him!" She spat. Actually, sweetheart, you
only get a sample of his holy shitheadedness. Try sleeping with the fucker. "And he
needs his stitches out today."

“Well what a better way for you two to bond.” She took the bait of my trap. I
watched her look back and forth for an answer.

“Well I…” She stammered.

“Oh no, I insist.” I knew damned well that I would have to deal with Otis
when he was having the stitches taken out. While he would never hurt Baby I doubted
she had the physical strength to keep him from taking another swing at Grandpa. I
think the only reason he wasn’t able to tear the old man a new ass when we worked on
him last time was that he was in serious trouble for his life and he was on the brink of
exhaustion. Otis was coming back by leaps and bounds now and was quite vicious.
Baby sighed and strode around me. I watched her go into Otis’s room. I listened as
she spoke softly to him and petted him. She was trying to lull him before we had to
take out his stitches. I headed out to go find Hugo.

He was camped in front of his TV. as usual. Hugo eyed me dismissively. “You
got that nasty fucker under control, R.J.?” The old man looked up at me.

Yeah, Hugo I did. “Um..sure.” Well we’ll see if we can handle Otis or not. I
am not especially opposed to putting him out while we do this either. Grandpa threw a
bottle of pills at me and pointed behind me. I saw a bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on
the counter. What a fantastic idea. There was no way in hell that Otis would turn down
Jack…especially since he had been laid up and not drinking at all. I poured a glad of the
mouthwatering liquid. Damn I could use a shot myself. I dropped three pills into the
glad and began to watch them fizz. “How many should I give him?”

“Oh, one and maybe break one in half and throw it in there.” I looked
silently back to the glass. Well, better safe than sorry.

I brought the drink up the stairs and went into Otis’s room. He eyed me
angrily as I approached him. “I brought you a peace offering.” I held out the glass
so he could see it. He sighed heavily, glaring at me and took the glass. I’ll let him
nurse the drink and by the time he drinks it, he’ll be on cloud nine. Otis was
propped up on his arm, staring at me.

Otis tipped the glass and downed the whole thing. “I want more.”

I grinned inwardly. “Well you’re not getting more until we’re done taking out
your stitches.”

“The fuck you are!” He spat. I stood there staring at him for a good ten
minutes. I could see his eyes beginning to glaze.

“Hey Otis, can you count backwards from ten?” I wanted to take his mind from
exploring the fact that he was drugged.

“What the fuck...well course I can!” His words were slurring already. “Ten,
nine…” He began to blink rapidly and lay back down. “Uh…seven...”

I had to suppress a laugh. “Just relax, it’ll be over soon.” I stroked his hair
and he took a hold of my hand. I gently put my free hand over his eyes. When I pulled
my hand away he was surprisingly docile almost at peace, if I didn’t know better. I ran
my hand over his face letting him know I was right there next to him.

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Sorry for the long wait kids...and damn R.J. and his nightmares!