"Ooh, you slut...You like that, don't you. You like that you little whore. You're such a fucking waste of space and time. I'm wasting time just fuckin' you, you albino fuckin' freak. You're a freak! Look at you! look in the mirror!"
His father grabbed his head and made him look in the mirror in front of him. Tears rolled down his battered face.
"Ooh, god your ass feels so good. Mmm...You're so afraid, aren't you? You're so scared..."
Otis dared to nod. It earned him a blow to the face.
"Nnn...Keep bein' afraid...I like that...Makes you tighter..."
He heard his father yell and felt some relief. It meant he was done.
He stuffed himself back into his jeans and sat down in front of Otis. Naked and quivering, blood running down his legs.
"Do you know what albino means, boy?"
Otis shook his head.
"Means you're a fuckin' freak. That's all it means. Is your a freak of nature. No one will ever want you. No one will ever have a use for you. Won't be able to find a job worth anythin'. No one will want your freak ass on their property. Fuckin' useless freak, might as well be the definition next to albino in the dictionary. You're trash!" His father kicked him in the face, splitting his lip.
Otis awoke in a start, screaming into the darkness.
He had dared to try and sleep in a bed again. He was so comfortable falling asleep. His back didn't hurt, his legs weren't restless and his head rested softly on the pillow. He felt he had been distanced enough from his abuse that he could sleep soundly on a bed again. He hadn't had nightmares in weeks.
Albino. Albino. Albino. Piece of shit. Trash. Useless. Freak. Freak. FREAK.
He stalked into the bathroom, looking into the mirror. He hated what looked back at him. Too pale, sickly looking skin. Blood red eyes with flecks of blue closer to the pupil, and that fuckin' white hair. He hated himself. He hated being different.
He picked up the clippers on the side of the sink. His hair had grown to be a few inches long, but it was quite evident by its presence that he was different.
He shaved his hair off, leaving a little bit of stubble.
Back to square one. He was back to square one.
He climbed back into his makeshift bed on the floor, curling up into a ball. He just wanted so desperately for someone to love him. Not to lust for him, not to want to fuck him and leave him. But for someone to see who he was. On the inside. To really get to know him for him, not for the size of his penis, and to love him for it. Not just accept him, but to love him. He craved love. He craved affection. He desperately wanted someone to brush his cheek with the back of their hand and not hit him. For someone to touch him so lovingly and not have force behind it, or lust.
But he didn't deserve it. He was a freak. He would always be a freak. Nothing more than a useless sideshow attraction walking the streets.
Days passed, and the nightmares continued. He so regretted sleeping in the bed, but as his back ached from sleeping on the floor, it was his only choice for comfort.
His mother drug him in front of the mirror, poking him in the ribs. "You're so fuckin' fat. Look at you. Asshole. Idiot. Piece of shit. Why should I feed you? You're nothin' to me. You're useless. Pointless. I fucking hate you. You're fucking fat. Look at you. You're disgusting! God, you're so disgusting..." She rambled on and on.
He was disgusting. Looking in the mirror now, looking at how much weight he had gained since he had been on his own made him sick. He knew if he starved himself, his food would last longer, too. He wanted to win affection. He couldn't be disgusting. He needed love. He needed to survive.
The weight fell off of him. He only ate once a day, and those meals were extremely small. He tried his best to fill his stomach with water, if he had access to it, to stop the pain of the hunger he felt. It was nothing compared to what he had dealt with in the past, but he would rather not ever experience that again.
The old man at the trinket store noticed the changes in his employee, but didn't say anything. He knew Otis would deny it, and he would get nowhere with the boy, anyway.
When Otis came home from work one afternoon, he noticed his supplies were folded up into boxes. Someone had broken into the little space he had made his home.
They had left a note:
"If you are not evacuated by the end of this week, I will have you arrested and you will be sentenced for trespassing, as well as other charges I don't care to list here. I know what you look like: Tall, skinny pale man. About six foot. I am the land lord of this apartment, and I discovered you squatting here about 2 days ago. Get out, and I will press no charges.
Otis sighed. Well, onto the next town to start all over again.