White Rabbit [Rewrite]

𝟷. ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀʙʙɪᴛ ʜᴏʟᴇ

This chapter is dedicated to MaggieRays for the undying support and the severe help with editing this hot-mess of a first chapter ❤️

♦ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ ♦
ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀʙʙɪᴛ ʜᴏʟᴇ

| ᴀʟɪɴᴀ |

ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ sᴜʀɢᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʀʙᴏᴜʀ washed against my flesh, I cursed the fact that, of course, I'd be the one to die on a Monday.

Bindings dug into my wrists, polluted waters stung my eyes, and tied to my ankle was an Armani briefcase stuffed with a pair of outdated phone books.

I couldn't tell whether it was a laugh or a cry that escaped my lips, as my fingers clawed at the ropes. The ocean's touch burning me like ice, licking at my cheeks and nipping at my nose; a frigid and toxic pup that filled my lungs with salted water.

As the tide tore at my dress and billowed into my frozen scream, I let my emotions sink, and I focused on him instead.

The man with the white suit and the crooked smile.

He watched as I choked on my own fleeting breath. With sparkling white teeth, bronzed skin, and obsidian hair. He watched me. Even as he became nothing more than a blur, a mirage, a speck of white and gold as my vision filled with blue and purple.

I stopped fighting, stopped struggling; instead I held his gaze as I became engulfed by onyx waves.

Letting the icy waters hold me in their arms, corrupting me. I let out my breath slowly, as the bubbles trailed up from the corners of my blue lips. My white dress lashed out against the hum of the sea, as the makeshift anchor collided with the bottom.

Of course, I'd be the one to die on a Monday.

♦

| 48 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴇᴀʀʟɪᴇʀ |

"ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ғᴇᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪʀᴀɴʜᴀs."

The words smiled back at me as the edges of my notepad bled with dark splotches. Soggy pages stuck together with espresso and whiskey as I slapped a sticky note to my fish bowl and cursed loud enough to wake a dormouse.

My life was ruined, and the goldfish were all to blame.

I should back up for a moment, so I can explain why.

Why our story starts in the printing offices of the Dinah-Rose Daily Print on the Saturday morning I missed my train. Why I became a dead girl because I spent 1.18$—before tax—on a pair of goldfish so I could break a twenty dollar bill. And why I needed to tell this story.

So, here is my why.

In the event that you, or anyone you know, ever receives a letter like I did, this will be a story of caution. I've made it my unfortunate responsibility to tell you how things changed that January, because if I don't, no one else will. It is my job, and mine alone, to document each part of my fall; my trip and stumble down the rabbit hole. Because as much as I love my family, they tell their stories through puffs of smoke and sticky poker chips. With mismatched facts to make their tales more exciting than they actually are.

I won't let our story be told that way. This time, we'll get the facts right.

So, I'll tell it my way, and I hope you believe me.

Because it starts with Danny Ehrlich staring at my ass.

"You know, Boss, you look a lot better from this angle."