I tried- and failed- to breathe slower and quieter in hopes of not being heard. Maybe he wouldn't find me under this desk. Maybe he'd give up looking for me and go away. Maybe he wouldn't torture me as he warned he would.

What was that? I swore I heard a noise. The creaking of the floorboards? Oh, there's the clicking of his shoes on the ground. He's coming.

"Come out come out wherever you are!" his eerie voice echoed down the hall. "I know you're here," he thundered deeper and more menacing.

The door creaked open and his figure appeared, dark and outlined from the contrast between the light hallway and the dark room. I scooted closer to the back of the desk and clamped my mouth shut as I stiffened. Please don't let him find me...

"AAAHH!" I shrieked at the top of my lungs from the fright of his glowing red eyes. I knew from experience that they only turned red when he was mad. Right now, he was in a terrifying rage.

His claw caught onto my ankle and I held onto the desk for dear life. I'd taken quite a few beatings in my life, but what he was speaking of was worse than any of them... He was cruel, even for a demon.

"Surrender!" he roared.

"Never!"

With one big yank he pulled me out from under the desk and across the floor, until we got to the doorframe where I held my grip as firm as my sweaty palms could.

Who was that watching the TV in the other room with the lights off? Brother? Yes! It was my brother!

"Brother! Help me!" I shouted.

He turned around to face me, the eerie glow from the TV adding to the creepiness of his slow movement. All traces of pleasure and/or terror were absent from his face and his eyes glowed as red as those of the demon pulling my leg. No...

"He won't help you!" the demon announced. "And you are going to cooperate!"

"No I'm not!"

"Then I'll make you!"

"No!" I grunted as I pulled harder on the doorframe to resist his pull. Teeth clenched, muscles burning, I used all my might to stay attached to the frame. And I did. But the demon still won the battle.

I hit the ground with a thud, a chunk of the wall coming with me. He dragged me with the chunk of doorframe in my hands, but I still tried to army crawl my way in the opposite direction. No way I'd go down without a fight.

I chucked the chunk at the back of the demon's head. Enraged, he pivoted around, eyes burning redder than before. "Big mistake! Quit fighting!"

"NO!" I shrieked. "I will never quit fighting! I will fight, and fight, and fight until every last drop of energy has been drained out of my body! No matter what you do, I will fight!"

"You're making such a big deal out of this!"

"I will never take a bath!"

Him sighed. "Butch. Come on!"

"Hmph," I pouted, arms crossed. They call Him "The Evilest of Evil". But I call him "Dad". Except for when it comes to bath time, when I call him "a menace".

"You are taking a bath."

"No."

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"Why are you so mean?"

"Please. You're beginning to smell."

"Good."

"Come on, the water's warm. You can play with Mr. Quackers!"

"No one likes Mr. Quackers except for you and Boomer."

"Oh, now that was just cold. Come on."

"No!" He picked me up and slung me over his shoulder. I kicked and screamed and pounded my fists on his back. "Brick!"

"What?!" Brick zoomed into the room, infuriated.

"Help!"

Brick groaned.

"What?! Why won't you help me?!" I shouted.

"Dude! It's just a bath!"

"Why are you so pissed?!"

"You always whine about the stupidest stuff! You laugh when you get beat up but throw a tantrum when you have to take a stupid bath!"

"Fighting is a rush, baths are torture!"

Brick sighed to calm down, and finally his eyes stopped glowing and returned to their normal not-glowing red color. Fists clenched, he sauntered away and back to the other room.

"Brick!" I screamed, my voice cracking. Him carried me down the hall towards the bathroom. I struggled to fly away but his grip was too strong.

With one final attempt, I shrieked at the top of my lungs, hoping to either annoy Him enough to make him release me or to annoy someone else to the point that they would decide to help. "HELP!"

I hate baths. I hate them I hate them I hate them. Him had finally managed to get me in the tub. Every time I complained, he always had a retort. "Maybe if you'd quit squirming you wouldn't have gotten soap in your eye. Yeah, well at least now you won't stink as bad. It's water, it's supposed to be wet." Smart aleck.

At least by now I'd gotten out and the real torture was finished. But I still had my battle scars. My hair was wet and stringy, and some strands were sticking to my face. My skin was just the slightest bit sticky. My eyes were burning from the soap that got in them. I smelled like blueberries. What had this fiend done to me?!

I needed to calm down. It was over now. It was over. But the memory still haunted me.

Maybe Raggy will help, I thought. Yeah, Raggy'll definitely help. After changing into my pajamas, I dug under my bed for my little green blanket. Though I consider it to be more of a rag.

I pressed my cheek against the little green rag and hugged it tightly. Man, if Brick or Boomer had seen me, they'd laugh so hard. That's why they don't know. I don't let them know about me and Raggy.

I remember when I first got Raggy. We were in a really snacky mood and Boomer had discovered this awesome type of pudding that we could only find at Wal-Mart. So, we went to go rob a Wal-Mart, when I saw this little green rag in the baby aisle as we passed it. Now I know it's the baby aisle, and I'm ashamed to have taken something from it (not because of the stealing part, because of the baby part) but that thing looked so soft! Besides, I was six! And- and I saw Boomer take something from it too! It was this squid doll that he's come to call Squidy. Of all the dumb names. But he doesn't even make it a secret that he has that.

There was a knock on the door. "Butch!" It was HIM's voice. This time I wasn't afraid. Just angry. And worried.

Using my super speed I threw Raggy under the bed and sat back on the mattress, slumping with my arms crossed, in attempt to make it look like I'd just been pouting the whole time.

"Butch!" Him swung the door open. He stopped and sighed at the sight of me. After walking over, he sat down next to me. "Butch, it couldn't have been that bad."

"It was."

Him rolled his eyes before letting them wander over to the shelf in the corner of the room, the one filled with a bunch of junk I couldn't find a place for- including the picture of me wearing this huge grin, with Buttercup in the background, hair soaked with egg yolks, ready to pound me. Ah, that was a good day. Painful, but good.

"You know," Him began, a mischievous grin growing on his face, which made me sort of worried what he was going to say, "Buttercup... She hates baths too."

"What?"

"Yes, she once refused to take a bath, and she became very stinky. She was kicked out of her home, run out of town, and a monster even refused to fight her. That's when she decided to finally take a bath, but she didn't enjoy it."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not."

What? How- how could me and Buttercup, Buttercup, have something in common? Yeah, I know we both like to fight and we have some physical similarities, but this is Buttercup we're talking about. Stupid, goody-goody, anger-issued, ugly loser tomboy Buttercup. Meanwhile there's me, the bad boy, macho man, insanely wild and extremely attractive Butch! We're counterparts, that means we're complete opposites. So why did we both hate baths? The thought that we did have something in common just... It just made me shudder a little.

"And what's this?" Him's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned to look at him, horrified once I saw what he was picking up from under the bed. Apparently Raggy hadn't made it completely under.

"Nothing," I said quickly, eyes wide in horror.

"Nothing?" Him asked, inspecting the object in hand. "Looks like a blanket to me."

"It's more of a rag."

"If you think that makes you seem less childish." Him grinned at me- not the creepy, evil way he usually does, but the way parents do. It would have been a little better if his voice wasn't so echoey, though. "Buttercup has one too."

I made an upset/annoyed noise that began as a groan but transformed into a growl. Now both my number one secret and number two hatred are things I have in common with my number one hatred.

Unbelievable.

I heaved a heavy, pissed off sigh. "If you think that'll make me take baths without fighting, you're wrong."

"I know," Him nodded, still smiling. "But I just thought you should know."

"Whatever," I grumbled. "Just go away."

Him sauntered out of the room, shaking his head, grin still glued on his face. I'd've knocked it clean off had he not just discovered my most embarrassing secret.

With Him finally gone, I had time to think. I guess it's not that shocking. We're counterparts but not complete opposites. I just don't like having stuff in common with her other than fighting. Though I could use this to my advantage. Now I know she has a blankie. I could tease her about that and she wouldn't even have to know about Raggy.

But I couldn't help but think of how weird it is that we have stuff in common. I kept wanting to tell myself that this could mean something. We could be friends.

But then I just shook off that scary thought.