The War Against The World

chapter seventeen

It was nights like this when Otis felt the most alone.

It was quiet, and it late. The world seemed much sadder in the loneliness of your room.

Everyone would normally be asleep by now, except Otis, obviously. He was siting on his bathroom floor with a cigarette in hand and a bottle of liquor in the other.

He was sitting and staring at nothingness, he was waiting, for what? He didn't even know, just something.

He did this a lot, there wasn't much else he could do. You can't change something like this.

He and Adam had a small talk after what Otis told him, it felt nice to get it off his chest.

He told him to stay away from Luke, that he was dangerous and it would be safer to be away from him.

It really fucking hurt hearing that.

He felt like he didn't tell Luke's side of the story. He was pretty wasted too, he wasn't in his right mind either. They'd been friends for so long he would never do anything to hurt him.

The second he was dropped off though, Otis was in tears. Broken sobs, for hours and hours. He cried none stop. That was until he got drunk. Again.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, he felt his lungs cry out at the smoke suffocating them, he felt a little bit of peace wash over him.

It sounds stupid, but something as simple as smoking the same brand of cigarettes as his dad did made him feel a little closer to him.

Otis found comfort in the strangest things. He just needed to feel like they weren't completely gone sometimes.

It hurts to know you'll never see the people you loved the most again, it feels like someone jabbed a knife right in his heart anytime he thinks about it.

He washed that thought down with a small sip of liquor, he felt the burning warmth slowly makes it way down his throat.

He wasn't the best at handling his alcohol so he chose to sip it slowly, It lasted him longer that way anyway.

He wished the liquid would wash away the feeling he was so desperately trying to keep away as well.

He was tired of crying, he was sick of his eyes getting all red and puffy, he didn't want to deal with the snot that would leak out of his nose.

He would much rather just sit and watch the flickering candle that sat on the counter in front of him.

He let out a small sigh, he didn't feel like he was actually present in this moment, it might be the alcohol but he just didn't feel real at the anymore.

Otis figured it was much more than just the alcohol, he's been dealing with this a lot lately.

He feels like he's just a passenger in his own body, like someone else is controlling him and he's just along for the ride. He never feels present in the moment.

He just wanted nothing more to just feel normal again, he feels like he's going bat shit crazy. Nothing has been the same in what feels like years and he's just so done with it.

"God damnit" Otis hears himself whisper as a small tear slowly drips its way down his face. He quickly wipes it off with the back of his hand, being mindful of the lit cigarette he's still holding.

He wanted nothing more in that moment to just be able to hug his sister, she would know the right thing to tell him to make him feel better.

She would hold him, let him sob in her shoulder, she would rub his back and tell him he was going to be ok.

He needed her but she wasn't here, and she was never coming back.