Vengeful Saviors (Otis Driftwood x OFC)

Chapter 10

"Oh, by the way, I got somethin' o' yers," I announced as I shut my bedroom door.

As Otis guzzled whiskey, his eyebrows drew together. Moving over to a pile of folded laundry on my dresser, I removed a few items from the top and set them aside. Scooping up his flannel, I turned and held it up.

"Oh, yeah. I left that b'hind on purpose," he admitted.

"Charlie thought ya might o'. He said it was one o' yer favorite shirts."

"Knowledgeable fuckin' bastard," Otis spat, rolling his eyes. "I hate that he knows me well enough ta realize that. It is one o' my favorites, but I knew I'd git it back. I left it cuz I knew I made ya feel safe. It had my smell on it. It was the closest thing I could do ta keep a part o' myself here without bein' here if ya know what I mean."

"Yeah." I nodded. "I slipped in ta a really dark place fer a while. What ya did helped me out a lot. Thank you."

Otis tipped his head. Swiveling toward the clean clothes, I refolded his flannel and set it on top of the pile. As I faced him, he stepped in front of me. His Red Hot Pussy Liquors shirt was missing. He must have discarded it while my back was turned. I scanned his naked upper body, ingesting his flying skull tattoo and lean muscles. Licking my lips, I brushed my fingers through the small patch of hair in the middle of his chest.

"What kinda dark place?" Otis's quizzical blue eyes probed my own. "Tell me about it."

Holding out my hand, I silently asked for the whiskey bottle. If I was going to talk about that gloomy abyss, I needed a drink. He passed it wordlessly. Tilting the amber liquid into my mouth, I swallowed. The whiskey burned smoothly as it descended down my esophagus and into my stomach.

"Well..." I cleared my throat and heaved a deep breath. "After y'all left, Charlie came upstairs with me so I could bathe. You weren't here ta distract me anymore so the reality o' what happened hit me like a ton o' bricks." I took another long pull from the bottle. "I broke down in the tub."

"I warned 'im that would happen." Otis delicately traced the scar on my temple.

Grasping the bottle, he took it from my hand. After drinking quite a bit of liquor, he set it on the dresser. I had gulped down enough whiskey for a light buzz, which was good enough for me. I had no desire to get plastered.

"Charlie mentioned that." Placing my hands on his hips, I hooked my thumbs into the loose hem of his pants. "I spiraled into a deep depression and stayed in bed fer 'bout 2 weeks. I didn't get up unless I had to. I had constant flashbacks and nightmares. I felt dirty, ashamed, helpless, worthless, and like everythin' was my fault. I thought no one would ever want me again. If Cutter hadn't killed Marquis, I would o' done it myself."

A strange gleam appeared in Otis's eyes. I realized the glint had surfaced because I had divulged the urge to murder another human being. Running his fingertip down my jaw, he cupped it and caressed my cheek with his thumb.

"Now, you listen and you listen real fuckin' good," he said firmly. "None o' that shit was yer fuckin' fault. Trust me, I know. I do what Slick did almost every fuckin' day. It's never the girl's fault. Although, I like fer 'em ta think it is. I love ta fuck with their heads and break 'em."

I didn't acknowledge what he had said about his victims. It was as if the words had never come out of his mouth. Instead, I paid attention to his gentle touch. The inside of my chest turned warm and fuzzy, and those sensations weren't from the alcohol which pulsed through my veins.

"I was furious," I added. "I scrubbed my entire body until my skin was raw. Charlie had ta stop me. I've never felt so vulnerable in my whole fuckin' life. I hated that he saw me like that, but I was also grateful I wasn't alone. Once I stopped freakin' out, I was almost catatonic. He had to make me git outta the tub b'fore I got hypothermia. He had ta check on me and bring me food three times a day cuz I refused ta leave my room."