The Rabbit Hole

Chapter 1

Eight Months Ago...

I come trotting down the stairs and stroll to the kitchen to make breakfast. I woke up in the greatest of moods today, "why?" you ask, because I'm meeting my best friend since pre school, Casey Dillion. We're meeting at the mall today for an early -and much needed-prom dress shopping. She said she's going to help me pick out "the perfect dress" for prom, which I'm tremendously psyched for because I couldn't pick out a great dress if my life depended on it, whereas my overly excited BFF Casey is a sure virtuoso in that department. She's very good at picking out great dresses, she's got an eye for fashion -which she should have, seeing how her mother runs her own fashion company. In the kitchen, I make a bowl of my favourite cereals, Captain Crunch, and my ears pick out the sound of the television's volume increasing loudly. I fill my bowl of cereal with warm milk and follow the sound of the speaker pounding from the TV. A news coverage about the gruesome murders of young adults make breaking news once again. The bodies of every victim have been found dumped inside a hole in the ground, naked, with nothing on but a furry rabbit's mask on. The news have given this psycho a name, The Rabbit Hole Killer. By the couch on my right is my mother, sipping her warm coffee and watching pensively at the news coverage, pinching her eyes at the screen which is just a few centimetres away from her. She has this problem with her eyes which can be easily fixed if she would just put on her seeing glasses, but god forbid that, she says the glasses make her feel and look old.
"Mom, just put on the glasses. You can't see a thing without them," I calmly state to her, predicting her response.
"I'm good without them, I can see just fine," she replies with a slight wave of the hand dismissing my remark and oblivious to the fact that she can't see for shit. I hear Daddy's muffled laughter aired out through his nostrils. I didn't take notice of him perched on the outside railing, puffing out his cigarette. "Aren't you going to say something about this, Dad?" I say to him. His reply to me is "Hey, I've tried telling your Mother of her eyesight, she doesn't wanna hear anything from me," he raises up his hands in a show of surrender. Mother increases the volume of the TV once again, you'd swear she's hard of hearing instead of seeing. The news anchor continues talking about the latest news about the serial killer roaming the streets of Baltimore. "..where the body of known missing girl, Ashley Morgan, was found." The news anchor says and continues on to explain, "Making the young girl the sixth victim in this gruesome strain of murders. The police say that witnesses have seen a man wearing a trucker hat with a red plaid shirt and navy blue jeans hanging around the area when the young girl went missing. Here is what the lead detective in the case, Collin Edwards, had to say."
"We're doing everything that we can to find this perpetrator. Our findings have led us to the types of people he usually goes after. Particularly young women ranging from sixteen to twenty-five years of age, all of which share one specific commonality, they are all blonde. So, to all of you girls from the ages of sixteen to twenty-five, be very careful and vigilant, never under any circumstances travel alone, always have an adult or friend accompanying you at all times and keep an eye out for people matching the description of the perpetrator." After the detective removes from screen a sketch photo of the man behind the murders is plastered on screen. The sketch itself of the man sends a chilling vibration down my spine, his eyes are empty of life, just a black void of complete emptiness. Creepy, just creepy. I know-I know, I'm staring at a sketch of a person here but I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one creeped out by the image of this man. The detective mentioning that he only targets blonde haired women between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five leaves me feeling uneasy about it. I have blonde hair and my age lies between the range of his victims, I could be his next. I fit in perfectly.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Mom asks with worry hanging from her voice.
"yeah, yes. I'm fine. Why ask?" I ask.
"Because you seem...I don't know, kind of rattled. You've been curling a finger in your hair, and I know you only do that when you're nervous." She says, and she's right, I have been curling a strand of my hair with my finger. To be honest, that news coverage got me kind of worried. "That news report worry you?" She asks.
"Uhm, I'm just wondering what I'm going to wear on prom night." I deflect.
"Sweetheart, that's like ages from now."
"Not to us teenagers, Mom."
"Right. Need any help for your prom dress?"
"No, I'm good. Casey and I will be meeting up at the mall today for dress shopping."
"Please, nothing expensive. You know your father and I aren't made out of money like Casey's parents."
"I know, Mom. We have a budget, nothing over $8000." As soon as I said that her eyes widened up to the point where I thought they would fall out from her head. "I'm joking Mom, lighten up." I say, failing at holding back my laughter.
"You trying to give me a heart attack?"
"Only to scare you into a minor one." She hurls a couch pillow over my head, causing me to spill some of my cereal milk in an attempt to dodge the projectile. I scoop a spoonful of my cereal and crunch down on my breakfast. Not long after swallowing, I feel it all coming back out of me. In a quickened pace, I place the bowl on the coffee table and rush to the kitchen sink and puke my guts out. Mom calling out to me from the living room and worriedly coming to my aid. She looks at me with her hazel eyes, carrying the burden of worry for my health in them. "Are you alright, Sweetheart?"
"What happened?" Dad comes rushing in with his own brand of worry in his voice for me -the perks of being an only child, endless worry from both parents. "I don't know. I just felt sick all of a sudden." I reply.
"Must be something you ate." Mom attempts a diagnosis, all the while rubbing my back. Dad holds up the box of my Captain Crunch cereal and reads out the expiration date, "March 13 2015. Your cereal is expired."
"Yeah, I don't think that box of cereal caused for her to get sick so quick." Mom objects to Dad's reason for my sudden illness. "It's something else."
"Like what?" I ask her.
"I don't know, maybe you should go to the doctor for a check up."
"No, I'll be fine. In fact I feel better already."
"Nonsense, you're going to the doctor."
"Mom, but I need to meet with Casey at the mall."
"Fine, you can go to the mall, but on one condition."
"and what's that?"
"You go to see a doctor after your shopping."
"Fine, I'll do it if you put on your glasses." I attempt a negotiation.
"Don't push it. Go to the doctor or go to bed, no negotiations."
"Fine."

I walk past the bowl of cereal I left on the table and somehow feel repulsed of it now. But why? I love Captain Crunch.

~a nice and happy little family they are. Please vote or comment. Thanks for reading~