My Little Rabbit (3 page)

“Jenna! Please wake up!” I hear it louder
this time. The voice is someone I know. This damn room of darkness,
if only I could get some light in here I could think clearer. The
shakes are getting more violent, my body is being whipped back and
forth without any control.

“Jenna! I SAID WAKE UP!”

The blackness fades away.

Light invades my pupils, I shut them again,
and quickly reopen them. No more darkness for today, I remind
myself.

As my eyes settle I can see my sister
standing over me, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head, her
mouth hanging open, tears strolling down the side of her face.
She's dressed real nice, a blue dress she was probably waiting to
use for a special occasion. She finally hugs me, tightly, as if
I've been gone for years.

“I was so worried...” she mumbles, not
letting go.

I pat her back. “I...I thought...” my mind
jumps around. I remember it all so clear. A dream? A nightmare? It
couldn't have been. It was to real. I felt the hands of the clown.
I felt the woman in the bed. I could hear their cries and the
vengeance on their tongue for what I've done. That couldn't have
been all in my head, could it?

My sister releases me. “What happened? You
said you were coming upstairs to change. An hour later I come to
check on you and you're fast asleep. Mumbling, mind you. And
then...” She puts a hand over her mouth. “It just...reminded me of
Mom.”

A sharp pain slithers its way into my brain.
I bend over and yell, my eyes tightly shut, my mouth still dry.
Megan grabs me, trying to understand what just happened. She's
shouting at me, asking me what she can do, but I can't answer her.
I don't know what's happening, I feel sick to my stomach, and my
eyes won't stay open.

Then, just like the pain came, it flees from
my mind. I reopen my eyes and look to my sister who sitting,
sobbing softly, gathering thoughts on what just was displayed.
“This isn't right. We have to get you to the doctor.”

I shake my head slowly. I go to stand but
fall almost immediately. She helps hold me up and I thank her. “I
need to use the bathroom,” I say, and we begin to walk towards it.
She asks if I'm up to using it alone, to which I nod, but she looks
unsure. Who could blame her? I'm not the picture of perfect health
at the moment.

We get to the door and I turn, a smile
spread across my face. “I swear, it's nothing too bad. Just the
case of some dizzy spells.”

She frowns. “We're talking about this after
you get out. We need to talk about it, no more hiding from it.”

I take a moment, trying to decide if I
should fight this one. Why bother? My sister obviously just cares,
and she won't leave me alone. “Fine. Let me pee first.” I go to
shut the door. She stops it with her left foot.

“I'll be right outside; if you need me,
holler,” she says. I nod and she lets the door shut before walking
back over to my bed.

I wobble over to the mirror and brace myself
on the ledge. I look into the mirror and could see why my sister
was scared shitless. All the color in my face is nearly gone; it
looks like I'm more dead than alive. I turn on the water and splash
some on my face, a little in my mouth, and try to relax some. The
water helps but I can't shake the feeling that all is not well.

When I stare in to the mirror I see him. The
clown. His grin is long, his tongue even longer. He doesn't speak,
he doesn't have to, his presence is enough to put the fear back in
my mind. Had it not been ad ream after all then?
“I know who...what you are,” I let him know. He just chuckles.

“It doesn't matter now.”

I shake my head and pull my draw open.
Inside are two necklaces passed down to me, a ring, and a photo. I
pull the photo out and place in on the counter. I take a moment to
study it. A small girl stares back at me, her eyes narrow, almost
disturbing, black shadows around the shot. I look back to the
mirror to see the clown in disgust.

I hold the photo up to him. “You can't steal
this away from me.”

He growls at me. “I can and will take
whatever I want from you, you're nothing but a meat puppet for me
to use.”

I flip the photo over and look at it. My
eyes fall to the very bottom of the photo. On it is written, in
script, “my little rabbit” from my mother. I stare back at the
clown and shake my head. “You think you can steal something special
to me? After all you've taken you think you can have this too?” I
question him, he doesn't respond, just stares. “Go fuck yourself!”
I scream.

“You think you've won?” he hisses.

I slam my hand into the mirror. “Not yet,” I
retort. “Soon.” I turn away from him. I could hear my sister
outside the door, asking if I'm okay. I wait a moment, eyes shut,
letting myself relax. Clearing my mind is easy. A blank slate.

“You won't survive,” he guarantees.

“My little rabbit...” I whisper, over and
over again. Once I hit the eleventh time I turn around and face
him. My bones are stiff, the hairs on my arms are sticking up, I
hold my breath. I'm ready.

He's gone.

I can feel my legs wanting to give out, I
grab the side of my shower. The man, creature, whatever it was, is
gone. I finally breathe, my eyes tearing up instantly, my trembling
coming to a halt. My sister is turning the knob, still questioning
if I'm okay, her small knocks getting increasingly louder. “Be
right out,” I let out, barely able to keep my voice together.

Had I won? Maybe the battle, not the war.
He'll be back. He'll want all of me, as he did my mother. They
always want more, never resting.

I nod to myself and grab the door. I push it
open and like leaving a different world I enter my room. The aura
around me completely alters and it feels as if I've stepped back in
to the real world. That only leaves the question of where I've
been. My sister is standing near me, placing her hand on my back,
nervous as could be. I go to speak but my voice cracks and I cough
instead. She looks even more worried now, bending down and looking
up at me.

“Should I call an ambulance?” she
questions.

I shake my head. “I'm fine,” I squeak.

“You sure?”

“Yes. Little tired.”

“Here, sit down.” She says and we head over
to the bed. As we sit on it she wipes my brow with a towel, it's
filled with sweat. “I really think I should call. This looks
bad.”

I grab her hand and squeeze it tightly. “I
swear Megan, I'm fine. It's just the shivers.”

She looks at me, knowing I'm lying. Her eyes
are darting around from me to the room and back. I can feel she
wants to talk about it. She wants me to share the experience I just
had. I don't even know where to begin. I try to figure a good
starting point. A place where we can go and she'd understand what I
was speaking about.

“You sounded like Mom,” she said softly.

It hit me like a hammer. My mind shifts to
the house. To the bed. To the women. To the picture. To the
basement. To the clown. To the field. To the man in the white coat.
To it all in a matter of seconds. I scream and hold myself tightly.
She reacts quickly, wrapping her hands around me. She tells me
it'll be okay, rocking me back and forth, but I'm so stunned at the
revelations I just stare at the floor.

It unravels slowly.

Everything begins to piece together.

“Remember our hiding place?” I ask her.

She looks at me like I'm an endangered
species. “Huh?”

“When we were kids. We would make a fort in
the basement in our old house. We'd say it's our safe-haven.” I
look at her for agreement but instead she just looks at me like
I've gone crazy. “We would hide down there from the sounds...from
the sceaming.”

“Mom...” she mutters.

I nod. “We would hide down there together
because the yelling, the screaming, it would all be muffled
out.”

“Right.” She nods, this time her face
lighting up. “What about it?”

“When Mom was sick, she would scream bloody
hell.”

“The disease...”

“I know, I know. I'm not saying she was
crazy, I was saying it sounded like she was battling
something.”

“Yeah. Kind of how you sounded a while
back.” She looks at me with those big concerned eyes.

“I tried to ignore it up until now but I
can't any further.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to fight it. Otherwise I'll die too,
just like mom.” I pick through my pocket and pull out the photo. My
sister views it, trying to recall when it was taken. “Mom's writing
is on the bottom. It spells out “my little rabbit.” It's what she
called me. Remember?” She nods. “I've felt like I've been losing
myself as of late. That in my mind something is eating away at me.
The disease.” I point to the picture. “That brought me back from
the brink. Mom did.”

Her lip curls and she squints some, the
tears wanting to escape her eyes. “I can't remember her voice.”

I hug my big sister. She embraces me and
gives it back. “I do. I heard it.” I whisper in to her ear. “She
called out to me.”

I separate from my sister. I take the photo
and hold it up. “I used Mom's will to help me get through it. I
don't know if she'll be able to help next time I have...an attack.”
I look at my sister. “I need you. If I plan on beating this disease
I'm going to need someone I trust. You think you can stay with me
the next few days while I start my treatments?”

“Of course!” She spurts out, happy as could
be. All she wanted was to see me get better, to help me, and I've
been stubbornly pushing her away.

“Thanks,” I say, smiling.

“We're going to see Doctor Sal tomorrow
then?” She questions, all to excited for my taste.

“Yes. He told me the news when I got it. I'm
sure he'll be more than willing to continue treating me.” I
respond.

“Great. We'll fight this together, we won't
let it win. It took our mom, it won't take you. We caught it early
this time.” She reassured me as she holds my hand. Just like my
mother did. I bite my bottom lip and look down in my lap to see the
photo. My eyes stare back at me and I know, this won't be easy but
now I have hope. Now I have someone in my corner who will help me
fight through it. I won't die so easily. We'll fight till I can't
stand anymore. That's what my mother would want, and that's what
I'll do. Survive for both her and me.

END

A Thanks and explanation.
First I'd like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read
this short story. A lot was going through my mind when creating
this one. I put myself in the shoes of my character, and it wasn't
an easy challenge. To face the worst of your fears is always the
toughest thing in life. Every person who reads my stories, these
things I create for others to enjoy, brings me one step closer to
getting over my fear. The fear no one will have anything to
remember me by. If I died tomorrow I now know I have plenty of
people who will remember me, even if it's just through my work. So
thank you all.

Some might be confused at some of the things
in this story. I wanted to explain some things below if you want to
continue to learn more about all the moments in this story that
connect. However, if you are more inclined to live in the mystery,
like me, skip the next part. Enjoy!
1) What was real?
Everything in past tense was real, as well as the final chapter.
The parts Jenna was being chased were all in her mind.
2) What or who was the clown?
The disease itself. It manifested in her mind as something that was
chasing her, trying to capture her, destroy her. Like many
diseases, the clown creature wanted to kill her, and it was a
metaphor for the fear of facing the disease itself and always being
on the run.

3) Who was the man in the
white coat?
It was Dr. Sal, the person who informed Jenna of her illness.
That's why he looks so sad when she approaches him. Even more so,
the one question he was able to get out was “Are you okay?” which
is the most common question a doctor would ask. He tried to remind
her of who he was. However, the clown killed him just as she was
beginning to understand.
4) What about the places she ran through?
The start of the short story involves her running away from the
clown in the basement. A place she thought as a hideout against all
that scare her. She used the basement as a area to keep safe like
when she was a little girl. The field was the countless people she
passes by everyday who pay her no mind. The house was the home she
lived in as a little girl. The women on the bed was her mother,
dying. She was scared of her mother because of the disease as a
child and it reflected here, even as a grown women. Mostly because
she saw what the disease did to her mother, and what it might do to
her.
5) What is the disease?
Ah, that is something only I get to know. Sorry, that you'll just
have to accept as a mystery!

More Works By James
DeSantis Listed Below -
Exterminators: Infected
- School, family issues, girlfriend problems.
Sounds like every teenager’s problem. What happens when you throw
in creatures, called “Unknowns”, who are trying to break into our
realm to destroy humanity? Four boys join an organization made up
of individuals called “Exterminators” to try and stop the Unknowns
and save life as they know it...and you thought asking a girl to
prom was hard?

Exterminators:
Shadows
- A new organization, the Shadows,
are stirring up trouble. The Exterminators thought handling the
Unknown threat was tough but now both Shadows and Summoners are
entering the battlefield. With this three way war beginning, who
will be left standing?

Those Devils
- I bury myself in the city streets, to
camouflage myself from society. It's reaching out to grasp at me,
catch and kill me. These “devils” want to end my existence. I will
survive, that is all I'm able to do. If they do come for me, I will
have no choice but to counteract. I'm not running to keep myself
protected. I'm running so that they don't find out what I truly
'em.