Without Guilt

Chapter VI: The Same Mistake Twice

Otis reached the dilapidated concrete block, his mind racing miles-a-minute.

The weather had gotten colder, rain giving way to a murky rose sky that promised snow over the next few days.

He'd try to keep himself from racing up the stairs, checking his watch. Dorothy would be back in the next 20 minutes, and he needed to be at the yard by then.

A scream echoed in the stairwell as he entered the building, giving him pause for just a few moments before panic stirred him. Taking the stairs two at a time, he nearly tripped over his feet as he reached the landing of the second floor.

There was a commotion and he thought he heard Dorothy's voice.

"Dorothy!" He called, struggling with his key for a few moments before managing to shove the door open.

"Get away from me!" Dorothy wailed.

Otis rushed to the kitchen, finding William standing over the young woman as she cowered in the corner. "William! What the fuck are you doing?!" He demanded to know, trying to get past the items haphazardly strewn all over the floor – a cardboard box had its contents spilled out, cans rolling across the tiles, and glass shattered everywhere.

There was blood too, a dented can stained crimson hinting at the weapon used.

William didn't seem to pay him any mind, grabbing the woman by the hair to pull her out of the corner. "I'll teach you a lesson, you little bitch!" He seethed.

"Please, stop!" Dorothy winced, clawing at his hands to get him to release her, her nails scratching his hands. This prompted him to throw her to the floor, his hands clamping on her thin neck.

"William, get the fuck off her!" Otis threw a chair out of his way, grabbing the old man by the back of his collar and tearing him off the woman with such aggressive force that he threw him off his feet.

William hit the counter, temporarily stunned and groaning as he clutched his already afflicted head from where the can had hit him earlier.

Otis stomped his ribs, the wooden cabinets splintering with protest behind the man's back. "Stay the fuck down, you hear me?!" He hissed, holding him by the back of his neck.

William whimpered, unable to get a word out between the sounds of agony being torn from his form. He collapsed on his front immediately when Otis released him, holding his afflicted torso as he coughed out blood.

"Dorothy," Otis turned to the woman covering her ears, taking her firmly by the shoulders. "Look at me- hey, look at me. What happened?" He prompted, trying to get a good look of her face to see if she'd been hurt.

Dorothy sobbed hysterically, her tear-streaked face pale with fear, her fingers curling into her hair as she shook.

"Dorothy, breathe." He tried to tell her though he knew there was no point in asking her to calm down. The woman was terrified, wailing like a child. "Okay, okay, come here." He tried to lift her to take her out of the kitchen, but she clung to him almost painfully, her small hands curling into his clothes.

He had no idea what she'd even been doing. As far as he knew, her shift didn't end for a while yet.

He struggled a little to disentangle her from him but kept a firm hold of her as he led her out of the kitchen and into the living room, sitting her down on the couch. "I'll get you some water, okay?" He tried to leave but she grabbed him again, her knuckles white with the tightness of her grip.

"Don't- Don't leave me… please." She choked out between sobs, hiccups taking over from how hard she was crying.

"Okay, but I need you to calm down- Dorothy, what were you even doing here?" He questioned exasperatedly, peeling her fingers off his sleeve.

"I was- I just wanted to- I got-" She was making no sense and little progress with stopping her tears.

"Okay, alright." Otis wasn't the best at consoling people, he was stumped about how to stop her crying so he would just let her weep until she got it out of her system. He felt like his mind was numb, there was so much he needed to do, but he couldn't think properly.

Dorothy managed to calm down only after she'd sobbed herself hoarse, her eyes red and throat dry. She sniffled, trying to wipe her face on the back of her sleeve until Otis offered her a handkerchief.

Otis sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

This day was not going well at all. He was going to be late to his shift.

"Dorothy. You need to tell me what happened." He told her, lifting his gaze to her again.

She couldn't look at him, a stray tear slipping from her wet lashes. "I got my rations… and there wasn't much to do so I… I thought I'd come home-" She had to cover her mouth as another sob took her.

"You came home early, you found William. Then what?" He prompted, tilting his head to get a look at her face. "Dorothy, I need to know."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding to try and steel herself. "I went to the kitchen, I thought I could make something nice for us all since last two weeks were difficult. A- and when I was washing the cans, he… came up behind me and just… he started putting his hands-" And she melted into silent weeping once more.

"Okay." Otis inhaled deeply, rubbing his temple. He'd gotten into a fight with William before for something similar, it hadn't gotten to this point in the past though. Still, he felt like he should have known.

William's drinking had only gotten worse. He took Otis for a fool, stealing alcohol to get drunk after Otis had told him he'd make sure no one from the supply warehouse gave him any.

"Dorothy, listen to me." He moved his hand from his face, the floor feeling like it was shifting under him, but he kept his gaze fixed on her until she looked to him. "We need to clean up that kitchen-"

"No, please, I don't want to see him again!" Dorothy interrupted; her face seized by fear.

"Shh." He whispered, his quiet tone getting her to calm again. "I'll take care of him, okay? But that kitchen needs to look like nothing ever happened. Alright?" He requested. "Can you do that for me?"

She looked down uncertainly for a moment before slowly nodding. "Okay." She agreed shakily.

"Stay here." He told her, giving her knee a light pat before he stood and headed for the kitchen.

William was unconscious on the floor but still breathing.

Otis moved carefully to pick lift him, throwing the man over his shoulder and taking him out of the kitchen towards the bedroom. "Dorothy!" He called to her.

"R- right!" She called back, heading slowly towards the kitchen.

The shock had settled into her bones like an icy wrap that numbed her emotions. She stared at the mess through sore eyes, taking it in as if seeing it all for the first time. Slowly, she retrieved the cardboard box, setting the cans back into it, organising it carefully to occupy her mind with neat rows.

Nothing had happened, she told herself as she moved across the floor to collect the last can.

She turned it over in her hand, the dried blood on the dented item taking her several minutes to place. Panic had taken over when William refused to take no for an answer. She'd tried to push him away, but he was larger and sturdier than her and she'd reached for the first thing in front of her when he'd grabbed her shirt.

She covered her mouth, feeling physically sick.

She almost got lost in her own mind until she heard screaming. "Otis!" She gripped the can tightly in her hands as she rushed to the bedroom.

The screaming was muffled as Otis clamped a pillow onto the man's face, suffocating him.

William struggled, panic making him flail with newfound energy, the limited air supply kicking his body into overdrive, hands trying to shove Otis off of him, but the younger man was both physically fitter and stronger.

Dorothy covered her mouth. "Otis, what are you doing?!"

Otis turned his head to look at her, his grey eyes like storms. "Dorothy, get out." He told her, not letting up on William.

"No, Otis!" She didn't know what to do, her moral sense screaming at her that she shouldn't just watch a man die.

"Dorothy, get out!" Otis rebuked her, his distraction giving William some purchase.

William managed to twist his hip, throwing Otis somewhat off balance, and letting William grab at him. His hand blindly grabbed at Otis' injured abdomen and dug his fingers in.

Otis growled, a feral sound like a wounded animal, the torn skin beginning to bleed into the fabric of his shirt. The ache was searing like a hot knife driven into his side but he grit his teeth, straining to push down until William began to lose strength.

Dorothy stood petrified, not knowing what to do. Tears began spilling again, silently.

William's movement began to freeze up, losing coordination and turning limp as screams were replaced by desperate wheezing that eventually slowed to nothing.

Otis stayed on him for a good three minutes before finally moving away. He breathed hard, holding his side as he tried to regain his composure. That was one problem taken care of. "You got any alcohol?" He turned to look at Dorothy.

The woman took some moments to swallow her tears and find her voice. "I… no, I don't think so." She was confused by the request, but a stiff drink wasn't much help even in a situation like this.

"Isopropyl, Simmons." He clarified.

"Right, yeah." She blundered out of the room to retrieve her First Aid kit, coming back shortly with it, ready to patch him up but he took the box from her, opening it to take the bottles. "What are you doing?" She asked in confusion.

"He's got a stash somewhere. He stole it from med bay." Otis was struggling to catch his breath, winded from everything that had happened and lack of rest. "We don't have time to find it." He pulled the blanket from the bed, throwing it half over William and pouring some of the alcohol onto it before setting the bottle into William's hand.

Dorothy was too distracted by the dead man's warped expression of struggle to really pay much mind to what Otis was doing.

"Simmons. Did you clean the kitchen?" Otis questioned, bringing her attention back to him as he began to shrug off his jacket. He dropped the article aside with his scarf and gloves before working on his shirt.

"Y- yeah." She replied quietly. "You're bleeding."

"I know. Look, go to the kitchen, get the supplies from under the tiles. I'll carry them." He told her, pulling his shirt off and dipping his fingers into the blood. He'd smear some of it onto the nightstand beside the bed, then some more on the pillow he slid under William's head.

Dorothy frowned, shaking her head in confusion. "What are you doing, Otis?" She asked.

Otis seemed to contemplate whether to tell her. "He's been drinking rubbing alcohol. Wouldn't be long before he died anyway. He got drunk, hit his head on the way to bed, then…" He let the silence fill in the rest.

That must have been why he told her to clean up. It needed to look like an accident.

Dorothy quietly withdrew from the room, heading to the kitchen to collect the stash from under the tiles while Otis patched himself up and changed into clean clothes. She was still unable to process everything that had just happened.

Otis joined her by the time she had finished pulling out the crate and replacing the tiles. He headed for the splintered cabinet door, pulling it off its hinges and setting it to one side to make it look like a waiting repair job. He'd wipe any blood from the cabinet and floor before washing his hands.

"Where are we going?" Dorothy inquired, holding her hands together. There was blood under her nails from scratching William.

Otis doubted anyone would care enough to investigate the scratches though, let alone suspect her of anything. "You're going to stay with Kumi and Dominique." He told her, moving to pick up the crate.

"But I don't know where they are." She protested.

"Kumi was meant to come get you when your shift finished." Otis told her, heading for the door with her in tow. "First though, I need you to go tell someone that William died."

Dorothy stopped short, fear gripping her again. "What?"

He stopped to look at her over his shoulder. "You would've been home by now, Simmons. You came across him, so you need to report it."

"But that's not…" She started hesitantly. "I don't want to do this, Otis." She pleaded, walking up to him.

Otis was trying to be patient, but he wanted to get out of here as much as she did. "Simmons, you need to. There's no other way. He fucking deserved worse, they would've done more to him if they found out he was both a thief and a rapist. Now you fucking go out there and you tell them you came across him like this."

Dorothy winced like she'd been burned by his words but there was a slight knot in her shoulders that suggested she was building herself up to it.

He let her spin the idea in her head for a few moments before she gave a slow nod.

They both paused when they heard footsteps on the stairs outside.

"T?" Kumi appeared at the door shortly. He paused when he caught sight of them, feeling like something had happened. "Everything okay?"

Otis pushed the crate into his hands, taking the cardboard box from Dorothy too to stack it on top.

"What's all this?" The dark-skinned man questioned.

"Supplies. Take them to your place then come back and get Dorothy." Otis instructed.

"What about you?" Dorothy asked, looking between them.

"I have to go to the yard. I'm already late." Otis replied, making sure he took his spare gloves and mask.

Kumi watched him go before looking to Dorothy in hopes of a better explanation.

The petite woman lingered for a few moments before she headed out as well.

Please R&R!