Especially because they posted pictures all over the internet. Of course, those pictures lacked the fact that Shelly had hit Otti.
I was beyond fuming. My poor otter. She didn't even want me to touch her. I'd never seen Otti look so lost and broken before. She held her sh.it together while the girls did what they did. The moment it was her and me though... Otti just... broke down.
And it fu.cking broke my heart.
How many times did I make Otti cry like that, and didn't even know it? Does Otti cry to herself often? Is it always because of me?
"Pierce..." Gianna's voice was soft.
"Don't fu.cking talk to me right now," I gritted out as I rummaged through my bedroom.
I have a first aid kit, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a washcloth. I just need to find Otti some tissue, and some cloth
