Reasons to Live - a collection of flash fiction stories

When Rabbit Screams

I pulled my knees closer to my chest and pushed myself deeper into the corner. The walls offered me little sanctuary but without them I would have felt even more vulnerable.  

'You stupid little wh*re!' Mrs Tremble's voice shattered the world around me, I felt particles fall like glass and slice at my hands, the tops of my arms, my bare feet, my naked soul. 'You are an ugly, ugly child!'

'An ugly fugly child.' A childish giggle moved from behind Mrs Tremble, found me and taunted me as I began to weep.

'No, stop.' My words were muffled when I buried my head between my knees and almost choked on my sobs.

'Cry-baby.'

'She's a sissy, Mrs T.' I could almost see them nod in agreement to each other, a smug look on both of their pinched faces. If anyone were to ever see those two they would think they looked more like crows than real people. Their hair was dark, dark, dark and their eyes were mean, mean, mean. Their noses were beak-like. Their lips were thin. Their voices sounded like cawing.

The wind whipped into the room and laced itself around my ankles. I knew they would not stop. Mrs Tremble and twelve-year-old Kimberly began to laugh. I heard them loud and clear in the back of my brain, right behind whatever sanity I had left. In a moment or two they would be joined by the others, by Big Jake who lived in checkered tops and old jeans. I swear I had never seen him without the ax he used to chop down the trees in the forest not too far from our house. Then Justin would follow, he was a nerd and loved to look down at us all. Hot on his heels the real whore would come in, Harmony. She was a tramp, an exotic dancer. She loved shaking her stuff wearing very little. Then if I listened real, real closely I would just be able to make out the softest of whisperers coming from three-year-old Joy's mouth. Joy was the only one who really liked me, she offered me comfort, but she, like me, cried a lot.

Sometimes Harmony would kneel next to me. She would tell me to stop being so weepy and weak and to stand up for myself. 'Just like I did, pumpkin. See, my old man used to think he could stick it in me whenever he wanted, too.' She'd paused to draw in a breath before pulling her past inside herself, right into the marrow of her bones where it poisoned her. Her eyes would turn cold, hard, full of venom. 'But I stood up for me, for numero uno.' There would be times she'd grab Big Jake's ax and shove it millimeters from my face. 'Whack, whack, whack. You chop up the parts that hurt you.'

Often Big Jake would just stare at us and grunt disapprovingly. It always took him a moment or two before he took the ax away from Harmony though every time he did it it was in a very careful way. It was odd seeing his huge, calloused hands pealing the ax out of her delicate fingers with such care. Sure, Harmony would try to cling on to it but he would not let her keep it, never, nonono way.

Stupid Justin would just stare at us and chuckle. Idiot thought he was king just because he had a Yale degree. Big man on campus. Too smart for his own good. After all, how many 17-year-olds get full scholarship? Mrs Tremble adored him. I swear I saw them kiss once, which is gross, she's old enough to be his granny.

Joy sometimes gave me her toy bunny, Mr Snuggles. It was a ratty thing and it had no eyes. I felt sorry for it because I knew it was blind. It had no mouth, only a stitched up frown that eternally remained silent. Joy said she loved him anyway. I held the bunny close as Joy's tears fell. Together we cry because life is a prison with no bars.

I looked up and turned towards the mirror on the wall. One by one they began to fade away, Mrs Tremble, Harmony, Jake, all of them, till there was no one left but me. But I am not alone. I will never be alone. I wiped my tears away, dropped Mr Snuggles to the floor and rose. My knees shook, my insides hurt. A thin stream of crimson trickled from the hem of my shorts and faded over towards the veins of my toes.

In my brain I saw Harmony's ruby lips curl up, I saw them turn into Justin's, into the toy rabbit's, then into mine. My father's ax rested a few feet away. I walked to it and picked it up. He didn't hear me as I made my way to the living room for he's drunk one too many yet again. The weight of the tool was almost divine. I felt my muscles, my bones, my cells, everything inside me helped to lift it up then Whack, whack, whack till he is dead, dead, dead. His blood trickled over the back of the sofa, splattered over my stepmom's good doilies, it even reached the diploma I'd received from Yale a few months ago. It was everywhere, everywhere! It was even on the rabbit who looked my way and began to claw at the stitches.

'So maybe she's not such a stupid f*ck.' Kimberly's voice was low, I couldn't see her, but I heard her talking to Mrs Tremble as I dropped the ax and walked to the phone. With steady hands, I picked the receiver up and dialed.

'911. What's your emergency?'

I felt Mrs Tremble's eyes burn into my back.

'I would like to report a murder. I just killed my father.'

'No.' Her eyes followed me as I began to wrap the cord around my neck. Tighter, tighter. Her voice got further and further away. 'She's still a little wh*re.'

The last of the stitches were pulled off, strands of dirty white thread lay at the rabbit's feet. It tilt its head back and screamed, screamed louder and sharper and harder than I ever heard anything scream before. I know of rabbits, of how they never make a sound... ever, till they make their one and only; the sound of pain ebbing from the core, bursting from within, consuming the world. It was the last thing I heard before everything went black.

© Christine Bottas. All rights reserved 2015-2016.