Captured

The doorbell rang at Mary's posh apartment, she got up from the sofa, went to answer it. "Julian?," she asked hopefully. She hadn't been able to get up with him all day and he hadn't been at work. Opening the door she was confronted with Julian's disembodied head being held up by none other than Otis. Without thinking she backed away from the sight, allowing the walking horror entrance.

He shut the door behind him, tossing the grisly relic on the floor where it rolled like a grotesque bowling ball.

"Oh God...Julian," she sobbed, stepping backwards as Otis advanced on her. "No!," she shrieked and turned to run. Otis gave chase, cackling, "Come on, baby. I wanna love you till you die. I WANNA LOVE YOU TILL YOU DIE!" She threw a table lamp at him, darting for the bedroom. He knocked it aside and ran after her, tackling her and sending them both to the tasteful hardwood floor. "Help! Help me!," she shouted. She forgot that the walls in this complex were fairly thick, and neighbors were used to her and Julian's fights.

She fought him tooth and nail, struggling on the floor, but Otis inevitably got the best of her. He punched her in the stomach and left her breathless, then ripped the t-shirt off her as she lay gasping. "No..don't," she begged as he dragged her by the legs to the bedroom.

Otis bent and pulled her onto the bed, slapping her to shut her protests up. Whipping out his trusty knife he cut the lacy bra off her writhing form. How nice, no broad in Ruggsville county sported a sexy little number like that. He then used it to bind one of her hands to the bedpost. Then he relieved her of her designer jogging pants and utilized them in tying her other hand to the bedpost then sat back and caught his breath. Already a blackening bruise was forming along her side. She was only semi-conscious at this point so the man took his leisure. He slowly began cutting her, carving 'Needs a real man' into her flesh while she was out.

Mary later came to and gagged; her panties had been stuffed in her mouth. She became aware of Otis' slim naked form beside her, dozing. Pain throbbed all along her abdomen from her broken ribs but she tried wriggling her hands free as quietly as possible. No luck. Fearfully she glanced over to see the usually hyperactive psycho at peace. Mary had to stifle a sob, dreading what he would do to her next if he woke up. Poor Julian, he must've suffered horribly before he died, the horror of it was stamped on his features. Raising her head she saw where Otis had carved into her chest and abdomen and groaned. Otis stirred and opened big faded eyes and yawned. He stood and examined his wounds; he had punctures evenly spaced all along his arms and brand marks up and down his abdomen. "Look at me, I'm a reg'lar walking work o' art!," he chuckled. He left and then returned with a claw hammer and proceeded to beat her about the head with it. She screamed around her gag as blood began flowing down her face and dampening her black hair.

At the peak of his bloodlust he prised her legs apart and entered her, pushing himself in and out of her with abandon. Mary was crying uncontrollably, addled from the blows and reeling from the pain. In the midst of fucking her Otis grasped the hammer and thwacked her again with it, this time cracking her skull. Her brain hemorrhaged and she died--the man continued having sex with her until he reached the crest of orgasm. Violence and sex were intertwined in his twisted psyche, among other things. He thrust a last few more times inside her now-dead flesh and rolled off her, sated. Her eyes staring off into space she was now still and looked even more beautiful to him. He undid the restraints since they were no longer needed then went in search for something to drink. He spent the rest of the evening raping Mary's corpse and collecting all references to him in the apartment. He'd already burnt the files in Julian's posession.

There was something about a dead body that held Otis' interest. The fact they don't say no or try to get away was part of it, but there was a beauty in death that the living didn't have.

However, Otis decided it was time he found his way home. He missed Baby, and Mama's cooking, and even Grampa complaining.


Mother Firefly was mixing cake batter when the old decrepit phone started ringing. Putting the mixing bowl down she went to the back room to answer it. "Hellooo," she warbled. "Johnny! How nice o' you to call. Really?" She paused. "So Charlie's men picked him up? Where's he been all this time?" She twisted a lock of blonde hair in her fingers. "Really, Johnny, yer language!"

Baby skipped up to Mother, anxiously waiting. After a minute or so the older lady hung up the phone. "Danny found Otis wayyy up the road, three counties up!"

"Well, what's he been doin?," asked Baby, a bit miffed Otis was out adventuring without her.

"A couple of Yanks tried to get the best o' him, from the looks of it. Johnny said he'd been burned and jabbed in the arms and everthing, but he's on his way home finally."

"I'll fuckin gut em," muttered Baby, blue-green eyes flashing angrily. Nobody does that to them!

"I'm sure Otis has already taken care of it," replied Mama.