Otto returned back from the Lighthouse, his blue eyes distantly gazing ahead in the dorm halls. His feet dragged across the floor as if held down by lead, each step more agonizing than the next. He'd vaporized some innocent dog boy because he'd paniced. becaude he had no control over the situation. He screwed up. Completely screwed up. Mimsy had looked at him like he was filth. Amrita had another reason to hate him. He killed two of her friends in one day.

He was the bad guy, huh?

It wasn't getting easier. No, life kept getting harder. Otto had thought that if he just kept pushing himself, letting the daily burdens of Deus roll off his shoulders, that eventually he'd learn to deal with it. He'd learn how to do it all, learn how to be a better hunter. But it wasn't any easier, and it never stayed the same. It got worse. It got harder.

He'd tried to do something on his own, think for himself without needing to call on someone to help. After all, there had been no more Sam. Mark was no help. Caelius expected Otto to know it all already as if by osmosis of simply existing on the island. He often reminded him of his father that way; as if Otto were purposely trying to disappoint him. Not that he had been his real dad after all, though. So why did that even matter now?

And why was he trying to please them anyway? To stay alive, of course. At home, he gave up trying. Here? He had no choice. He had to be of use, he had to do his job right. If he did it right, he'd stay alive and not get noticed. If he screwed up, or showed signs of incompetence, there were lectures and a possible Sahara trip waiting for him. The reward for doing anything right was simply not being killed that day by his hands. He'd never get praised. No pat on the back, no thank you, no nothing. Simply another day under the radar.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he found his room again. He closed the door firmly behind him, locking it with a satisfying click. He slid down against the door, sitting down onto the floor as his lead limbs hung painfully at his sides. The day had taken it's toll. Life had taken a far greater toll on him as a whole. It was becoming too heavy to bear. His heart felt twisted, his chest was tight, and he had a headache that hurt his eyes even when closed.

His room was a testament to his accomplishments, he supposed. He had a bigger room with more things because he'd survived so long. Surrounded by objects, a large room all to himself. That would make him happy, right? Things from friends decorated the spaces, serving as a reminder that he was loved. A drum set from Dakota, a clean room and clean clothes courtesy of Molly, the silly dog plush from Eva or Reign (he couldn't rightly recall other than he disliked it greatly for a week). A beanie knit by Molly sat on a shelf, sadly destroyed with Cat Ears thanks to Kat the butcher. To think that horrible woman broke into his personal space and vandalized a precious keepsake just to spite him. It made his bad day feel worse. But no matter, right? One evil woman, and many more amazing friends. And Rep. But no one liked Rep... wait, people liked him too. Maybe the island simply was so down the sewer it mistook swine for princes.
It explained why people liked Otto, then.

He'd never understood why they gravitated to him. He was grumpy. He didn't smile, even when he was happy. And lately, he was never happy.

As much as there were people here that loved him, that very love was beginning to make him feel overwhelmed. Obligated. Stretched thin.

In the past if he felt smothered, he'd say as much and push them away. But now? Now he didn't want to hurt those he loved and cared for. And it was beginning to wear him out. Opening up or being nice even when he didn't want to be. Asking questions, or answering them. Things that for normal people he was sure didn't require effort. But to him it felt like a chore, like he was giving up a piece of himself every time he talked to them or listened to them.

And for what?

Spending all this time getting close to others would only end badly. When they got hurt, physically or emotionally, he felt hurt too. And when they died, he felt like he'd been shot with a bullet himself. Clerise died on him twice now. It was like Life was punishing him for daring to get attached. Who else would do this? Would Eva leave and break his heart? Would his newfound cousin Peyton die as soon as he opened up too? Would every bond that grew too tight be ripped from his grasp?

Or would they betray him like Sam did?

Sam had taught him something about himself, at the very least. He'd become much too naive. Too trusting. Too eager to please. It was going to get him killed.

Otto pulled himself from the floor, holding his head in one hand as if somehow it would ease the increasing headache. He'd managed to get as far as the couch before he felt ill. If he took another step he might puke. So he let himself lay down. Maybe a nap would shut out the nagging voices in his head.

But his onslaught of introspection continued. He couldn't get his mind to shut up. Negative thoughts barraged out no matter what he did. He couldn't turn it off. He thought about reading or playing his drums to make it go away like usual, but none of that seemed fun anymore

The world insisted he remain a complete failure and mess up. Before Deus and here after nearly three years since he'd left home, it was all the same. What was the point of trying anymore? He thought he was doing his job, scouting out and weaponizing that student. But even something like that ended up getting screwed over by his incompetence.

And it continued full circle. The same string of self depreciating s**t circled his mind, pushing and tearing through his brain and ringing in his ears.

Otto didn't want this anymore. He wanted out of all of this. But he didn't want to die. He didn't want to forfeit his life just to escape Deus and it's merry go round of suffering. He needed an outlet. He needed to vent.

But what good would that do? Otto groaned, stuffing a pillow over his face and kicking his feet. He had no one to go to. No one like Clerise. He couldn't take anymore. Was this all he was? A whiny pathetic child? Just like Rep said. Nothing good about him, good for nothing but failing and getting rescued or eaten by brain eating bugs. Small victories were few and far between. Nothing that could excuse his failures, nothing to put on a wall or brag about. Saving a couple lives here and there? It meant nothing to anyone. And why should it? Just part of the job, after all.

All he did was whine. A grumpy, whiny, depressing kid. With a girlfriend he rarely saw. Eva was always happy. Happy, upbeat, and never seemed down or upset.

Little miss perfect.

Otto stopped fussing, suddenly feeling sick again. Did he really feel that way towards her? He loved her.. head over heels for her, actually. But was this distance really making him bitter? Twisting his love into jealousy and callous, misguided anger.
But i kept coming. She obviously didn't love him just as much. Didn't trust him to get angry around him. She never complained to him, only patted his back when he felt down. So what? Did she not suffer when things went bad?

Or was she going to someone else for that?

Otto sat up, throwing his pillow hard against a wall. That was it, wasn't it? Yeah.. that was it. He was the only one putting effort into their relationship. He always made the dates, asked her over. He was the one who'd initiated their first kiss, and hadn't gotten another one since.

Eva didn't love him. He really was just a sad little child she felt obligated to take care of.

Good. That would make it easier. He needed to push away all these people that suddenly needed his friendship and attention, and Eva would be the first to go. After all, it would be better for her not to have him around her. One less depressed infant bringing her down. This was probably why she avoided him anyway.

He spent the next few hours laying there on his couch, staring out his window. He let every negative thought fill his heart with poison, pumping through his veins and burning his soul. What did he need that for anyway? All it did was hurt him.

He was tired of hurting. Tired of caring. It was time to purge himself of a heart and solve the all his problems. It sure beat pushing them all down. That didn't work anymore, after all.