White Rabbit

Chapter Three

Garrison was groaning and moaning, he slowly opened he eyes but his vision was blurry.
"W-where am I?...." He tried to move but noticed his hands were handcuffed to something and he couldn't move. He managed to lean his head to his hand and rubs his eyes so he could see clearly. He was in a big room with a couple of beds and some giant crates across from him. He tried to sit up more but he bit his tongue and laid back down, his wound was sewn up and wrapped in a bandage across his stomach.
'Jesus this pain...'
Some footsteps can be heard, getting closer. He looked around again to see an old elevator shaft wide open. Then some feet came down from it, and jumped down was the WR. They were wearing their white bunny mask as usual. Garrison didn't know what to think. The WR got close to him and pulled out a chair next to him and sat down.
"W-what do you want..."
The Rabbit spoke using a deep voice changer, "Just a 'Thank you for saving My life' would be nice." Garrison was silent. "Would you like some pain killers?"
He slowly nodded. The WR took a pill bottle off the end table and poured two pills in their hands and got a bottle of water. Then they pull a key out of their pocket, "Gonna unlock one hand. Don't try anything. Understood?"
Garrison nods. They unlock his hand and he takes the pills and plops them in his mouth and drinks the whole bottle.
The WR leans back in the chair, "Just wanted to let you know that I texted the babysitter and said that you are going out of town for a few days, and that you are paying them extra. I called you in sick as well. So make yourself comfortable, you won't be leaving for a few days..." Garrison choked a little.
"W-why are you helping me..."
"Cause that's what I do. Now get some rest. Call for me if you need anything..."
They walk away and climb back up the elevator. Garrison looks around to see if he could try to lock pick the other handcuff. He looked over the bed and saw a thin nail on the ground. He scoots over carefully and tries to reach to it. It's just out of his reach and then he tries to scoot closer, fighting the pain in his stomach. He quickly grabs it and he gets comfortable again, breathing heavily.
'Fuck... that was painful...' He shoved the nail it the lock and wiggled it a bit. Then he heard a click and breathed in relief. He rubbed his wrist and slowly sat up, the pain wasn't as bad as before, the meds kicked in. He got to his feet holding the end table for support, he looked around and saw his gun and bloody clothes were on top of a crate and he waddled his way over there.
'Shit! Where is my phone?!' He grabbed the gun and turned to the elevator shaft to see the WR standing there. He pointed the gun at them.
"Stay...away from me..."
"I'm only trying to help you... please put the gun down..."
"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN! IVE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU FOR THE PAST YEAR NOW! WHERE IS MY PHONE YOU RODENT!?!"
The room went dead silent.
"Garrison... I know about your father... and you want to know as well... but I don't think you would like my answer. I know that's why you want me gone so bad. I bet you want to pull the trigger to avenge him... but revenge is not the answer. You are a good man, don't do something you will regret. So do yourself a favor and put the gun down..." Garrison's head was in a war with its self.
"N-no... you are trying to trick me or something!!"
"Why would I trick you..."
The WR starts to slowly approach him. "Y-you are trying not to get arrested... you are just trying to protect yourself..."
"Protect myself? I saved you... and you say I'm trying to protect myself..."
The WR was only a few inches away from the barrel of the gun. They set their hand on top of the gun and they pushed it down gently and Garrison lowers it and then drops it.
"You made the right choice..."
Then they quickly pull out a syringe and shove it in Garrisons arm. He yelps and then he punches the WR in the face knocking them to the ground and the mask off. They face away, trying not to show their real identity. Then Garrison gets dizzy and slides to the ground unconscious.
'Sorry.... I didn't want to do that...'