Otis spiraled downward into his own head.
Most nights, he just sat in the middle of the floor in the apartment, curled into a fetal position and thought. Thought about what had happened to him. Thought about how he had escaped. Thought about how he would get through the rest of the week. Thought about how he would find food.
It was the slow season for the old man after the summer had ended. He was calling Otis in to work less and less. Otis could hardly afford the food he needed to survive, even though he had drastically decreased the amount he was eating- starving himself like he had before.
He had taken to the dumpsters behind the restaurants in town, scavenging for whatever he could to eat. He rarely got caught, but one night, he wandered into the wrong alley.
It was behind the most expensive restaurant in the town, and the security guard had gone out for a smoke. Otis was rummaging in the garbage the cook had just taken out and was quite pleased with his findings. He shoved whatever he could into his mouth, swallowing quickly. He didn't even taste the food, he just knew he needed to eat. He hadn't eaten for days- hadn't found anything that wasn't rotten or inedible, but he had hit the jackpot.
"Hey!" He heard as he felt a hand around the back of his neck, yanking him out of the dumpster. "What the fuck are you doing?!"
"Starving, jackass." Otis growled.
The large man slapped Otis across the face. "The fuck did you say?"
He turned slowly back to him. "I said. Starving."
He dropped Otis in the alleyway and kicked him in the stomach. Otis thought he was going to retch.
God, no...No I can't...I need that...
Another kick, this time landing solidly on his kidney. He growled in pain. Another kick to the face.
Otis scrambled to his feet and started running, ducking behind alleyways that he knew like the back of his hand in an effort to get away. When he felt safe, he leaned against a brick wall and tried to catch his breath. He was closer to his apartment, thank God.
Fuck, his ribs hurt. His back hurt. He knew he would have large bruises in the morning, but for now, he was safe. He had gotten away. He cringed as his chest heaved with breath.
He smirked to himself. At least he had gotten away with some food in his stomach.
He stopped by the next morning at the old man's trinket shop, like he did every day, to ask if he needed him.
"Ah, yeah, we just got some tourists in to- Holy sweet Jesus boy, what happened to you?"
Otis knew he had a black eye. He just sighed. "Ah...nothin'."
The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "Let me guess. You should see the other guy, right?"
Otis smiled, despite himself. "Yeah. I guess."
Walking home, he heard someone kick a rock behind him. He kept walking, looking in his peripherals to check and see if anyone was there.
"Hey, freak!" He heard. A jolt went through his system. He hated that word. He hated being called that. His mother had called him that until she was blue in the face while she was beating him. He tried to ignore it, and kept walking. "I said, hey, freak!"
"Call me that one more goddamn time you fucking cunt and I'll show you why you don't call someone that."
He chuckled bitterly. "What're you gonna do? Let me fuck you like your daddy fucked you?"
Otis froze. This was Caroline's boyfriend. She had told him. But she had twisted the story, he was sure.
"You think you can use your sob story to get my girl? You fuckin' freak." He took a few more steps toward Otis, who glared dangerously back at him.
"Watch yourself. I'm warning you."
"Why? Caroline told me everything. How you begged her to sleep with you and to just love you. How you stalked her in the soda shop. How you told her your sob story, and when she told you how disgusting it was how you left sobbing like a little girl."
Rage filled Otis. That wasn't what had happened at all. He understood, in a way. She was trying to stay out of trouble with her boyfriend. "Do you really think you're a big man by doing this?" He smirked. "If I'm such a weak little bitch like she says I am, what do you gain out of beating the shit out of me?"
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter, does it? I'm going to do it anyway."
"That's what you think." Otis smirked as the boy drew back to punch him. Otis grabbed his fist on the follow through, twisting his arm behind his back and spinning him around. Otis placed his knife against the boys throat, chuckling in his ear. "Now, what did you say about my daddy fuckin' me?"
"I...I...I..."
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Otis slit his throat and let him fall to the ground as he choked on his own blood, spitting it everywhere.
Otis drug his body into an alley and dropped it into a dumpster. Fuckin' piece of shit anyway.