God, the last time Otis had been this miserable, he had just escaped his parents.

Every inch of his body hurt. It hurt to move. It hurt when Katie stroked his face, even hurt when she lay blankets on him.

"Oh, you poor thing..." She muttered, sighing. "What are we gonna do with you?"

Otis settled into the pillow, burrowing his face into the blankets.

"You've been through hell, haven't you...?"

Otis peered over the mound of fabric at her. How could she know?

"I know because I have too. I can see it in people's eyes, now, because I'm used to seeing it in the mirror." She reached to touch him, and he flinched, hiding his face under the blanket, beginning to tremble. He was defenseless in the state he was in. If she started hitting him, he couldn't run. He couldn't fight back. The only option he had was to hide. "Shhh..." She pulled the blanket away from his eyes, and he stared wide-eyed back at her as she gently stroked his cheek. "Your parents beat you, didn't they? They hurt you so much..."

She saw right through him, and it unnerved Otis. At the same time, he was thankful that finally, someone had seen the pain in him and hadn't faulted him for it.

She stroked his head, feeling the jagged scars that ran along his scalp. "They made these, didn't they?"

Otis tried to fight the urge to flinch away and cower. God, those touches just felt so good...

"I can't even imagine how cute you were as a baby. I might die if I do." She smiled softly.

Otis was fighting sleep, now. His eyes rolled back in his head as she stroked what little hair he had. He fidgeted, trying to stay awake. His fever raged, and he ached everywhere, but her touches began to lull him to sleep. They were so warm and loving.

"Or as a little boy. My goodness. I bet if I saw you I would have picked you up and squeezed you. Taken you away from those terrible people..." She moved the blanket further away from his face, cupping his jaw to stroke his cheek again. He tried to pull away, but she didn't relent. "Shhh...You're such a handsome young man...I would be so proud if you were my son. You're so, so special..."

Otis shook his head, mustering the strength to speak. "...Freak..."

"No. You absolutely are not. I don't ever want to hear you call yourself that again, mister. Don't you understand how special you are? The odds of you being born the way you were. You're special. You're one in a million. You're not a freak, you're a work of art created by nature." She smiled. "You're an albino, aren't you?"

Otis nodded sadly. The term had always been followed by insults.

"I bet your hair would be beautiful if you grew it out."

Otis looked at her, wary.

She sighed. "Just rest, sweetie. You'll get better. And when you do, we'll work on all that, okay? But you are special, honey. You deserve to be loved and be safe."

He closed his eyes, finding solace.

The days passed and Otis began to regain his strength. He was able to feed himself, and he was able to speak again.

She finally had learned his name, and frequently sat and talked to him. "How're you today, Otis?"

He shrugged. "I'm alright."

She smiled. "So are you gonna take my advice?"

"Huh?"

"Are you gonna grow your hair out?"

"I-I...I hadn't thought about it..."

"Well? What do you think of it?"

Otis paused, trying to pick the correct words. "I...I used to have long hair...When I was really little...But uh...My...My mom...Started shaving my head to make me look normal instead of...the way I am."

"Beautiful. Unique. Art."

Otis blushed. "I...I guess...I always hated it when she did it...I...I liked my hair..."

"Well, why don't you have it long now?"

Otis looked away. "Because I'm a freak. And it makes me look like one."

"Otis. I told you I never wanted to hear you call yourself that again."

"But people notice...They don't want...They don't want someone like me workin' for them...S'hard to get a job...When...When you look like I do."

"Did you ever think that maybe YOU think that they won't hire you because of that, and you act a certain way that makes them not hire you?"

Otis fell silent. "N...No..."

"What is it that you like to do?"

"I...Mm..." He felt anxious suddenly. He couldn't tell her what he liked to do. She would rub it in his face. She would toy with him for it. He had stolen canvases at one time or another, stealing the paint he would need, as well. He sat down in that apartment he had squatted in and painted all night. He wasn't sure why the thought had occurred to him, but he felt so calm, so at peace for the first time in his life.

"What's wrong?"

"I...I can't...I can't tell you..."

"Why?"

"Because you'll mock me for it."

"Why would I do that, Otis? There is nothing in this world that you enjoy doing that I would subject you to ridicule for. Me? I enjoy reading. I enjoy playing with my dogs. Spending time with my husband..."

Otis's heart fluttered at Husband. He wanted to be someone's husband some day. He wanted someone to love him like that. He doubted he ever would, though. He had too many walls to break down. Too much pain. No one would ever put up with that very long.

"So tell me, what do you enjoy?"

"...Artwork..."

"Oh! Do you have anything that I could see?"

He shook his head. "No...I...I burnt it all..."

"What?! Why?"

"It was worthless...A...And I couldn't take it with me...S...So I used it for a fire in the winter..."

"Oh, sweetie..."

"What's it matter, anyway?"

"Because you can find a job doing that. You can sell your artwork. What else do you like?"

"I...I...I know how to fix up cars...I...I read a lot..."

"Oh! Well, that's a great way to get a job around here, especially." She smiled softly. "Otis..."

"Hn?"

"I want you to do something for me."

"O...Okay...?"

"I want you to take back your body for your own. It's YOURS. It's not your mother's. It's not your father's. They can't control you. I want you to take your body back and claim it as your own."

Otis stared back at her.

"You know how I want you to start?" She asked. Otis shook his head. She took his face in her hands gently. He flinched back wildly, but she moved with him. "I want you to start looking the way YOU want to look. Not the way they told you you should to hide who you are. Can you do that for me?"

Otis nodded, mystified.