As I sit in my room playing with my rabbit thumper I can hear my father in yet another drunken state of mind. Ever since mom had past he's always been disconsolate, constantly drinking and leaving. He can never look at me, he says I remind him to much of mom and it throws him into a fit of rage. I'm forced to stay in my room, but it's ok because I have you thumper, you're my only friend. As i hear the front door slam,I peek out my window I see my father leave the house, that's when I know it's safe to come out. I dart for the kitchen in search of something to eat before father can make his return. As I grab some food and scurry back to my bedroom where Thumper and I eat, a slamming door can be heard throughout this old beat up silent house. I hear father yelling " COME DOWN HERE BOY !" I cower in fear that he might've saw me. As I get up I grab thumper and we descend the stair case, as I slowly walk my way over in front of the man that was once my father.
" yes, father ?" I said.
" You thought you could be so sly, leave your room and think I wouldn't notice ?" He asked.
I could feel the tension in the room rising, my anxiety going through the roof, my breaths shorting, I squeeze thumper in fear of what father might do to me.
"ANSWER ME DAMN IT !" I hear father roar as the right side of my face stings. My vision gets blurry and I notice the death grip I had put on thumper I loosen my grip and continue to hold him. I had notice he has wet spots on him. That's when I realized I was crying. I looked up at father.
" I'm sorry...I was just really hungry." I start to sob. My father looks at me with a calculating look. He looks at me for about five minutes, then looks down at my rabbit. I instantly knew what he was going to do. I ran past him out the front door running as fast and hard as my legs could carry me. My father pursuing closely behind. I tripped trying to focus on Thumper and how he was handling this. My father pulls out his gun and shoots thumper right in front of me. I scream in terror and try to hold my rabbit one last time before my father snatches him from my hands and tells me to follow or I'm next. Tears streaming down my face I follow my father back to the place I called hell. He throws him on the table and stabs a sharp skinning knife on the table right next to my hand.
"Skin him."
Stunned I stare at what was once my best friend and back to my father. Tears still streaming down my face.
" I...I can't" I said looking down fiddling with my fingers.
" Why can't you ? You said you were hungry did you not." He said tautly
I shook my head no.
" SKIN. HIM." He said as voice increasingly enraged as the seconds ticked by on our old grand father clock. As I slowly picked up the knife I started to cut the flesh off of my only friend. My vision blurred by my tears, my father watches in satisfaction as I skin my rabbit. As I was cutting the last bit the knife had caught the palm of my hand. I bled profusely. I looked to father for help. He sneered
" Look at you. You damn fool. Can't do anything right can you." He grabs my wrist tight and drags me back to my room where he pushes me down and slams the door, locking it behind him. I hear his foot steps on the stairs and a few seconds later downstairs in the kitchen. I smell something being fried. My stomach drops at the realization of what my father is doing. Sometime passes and I hear my fathers foot steps in front of my door. He unlocks it and comes in with a big smile on his face. I look at his eyes and see nothing but a dark soul. He hands me the plate of food.
"Eat it." He said
I stared at the plate perplexed. I look back up at him and see he is getting more impatient as each seconds passes that I don't eat.——————————————————————————-
Thank you for reading out first chapter! ^-^
We know it's a cliffhanger but we will be back tomorrow to publish more, and to try to make it a longer chapter.- P&D
YOU ARE READING
Rabbit killer
HorrorYou never know whose watching. Writer: Patricia Co-writer: Dakota - FLYSNAKEEATER We do not own any pictures/videos/ or music in this book, just our writing.