Doubt The Rabbit
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- Oct 11, 2010
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"You don't have any idea." Nicole plucked a large chef's knife from the dishwasher. She brushed its blade over her fingertips. It slit right through her skin. Little beads of blood dripped from her nails and onto her yellow sundress.
Dana's dilated pupils followed the knife lazily. She had not fully realized the fear that made the back of her neck itch.
She gave up struggling against the rope. Her wrists were already raw and her hands were far too slick with the same blood in the puddle on the tiles behind her to get a good grip on anything. She sat in her wooden chair and let her drool well up in the folds of her hiked-up polyester skirt.
"You don't understand how cold I am every night! How scared! All the images in my head that come to bully me--you don't know the half of it!"
For only a split moment, Nicole looked hesitant behind her flu mask, but that was quickly replaced with the cold face of a poised killer. She kneeled down in front of her captive, right next to the incense she'd placed within inches of the chair earlier.
She pressed the knife flat against Dana’s thigh and rested her elbows on it. Dana whimpered. She could feel the knife's edge threaten her skin as Nicole eased her chin into her palm. If either one of them budged, a chunk of meat would have surely been severed from her body.
"All I wanted was someone to hold me and promise me it was okay. Tell me the images weren't real. Tell me I'm not alone. Tell me, Dana!" She yanked the knife from under her elbow and tore right into the center of Dana's right thigh. "Tell me I'm not alone! TELL ME!"
Dana's body quaked. Blood gurgled from her leg and poured onto the floor. It got under her feet and between her toes. She jerked against the chair and swung her head forward. Salty tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped from her lashes. They specked her thighs and made her wound pucker, but she was too weak to even shift to the side or blink her tears away.
"...why me?" The cry was almost made into gibberish by the rope gag pulling back the corners of her mouth and came from her throat like the breathless, high-pitched cry of a dying pig.
Nicole froze.
Why her? Why her? Yeah, why her?
In fact, she knew very little about Dana except that she worked two cubicles down. She had a handsome boyfriend and two loving parents who often came to work to visit her and bring her lunch. She was the life of the office parties that Nicole never attended but always heard about the day after. Corporate loved her. Everyone loved her.
That night, Nicole would return to her shoddy apartment, flip open the Wednesday Pill-Pak, and dump the little bland-colored nubs into the toilet. Then, she would lie down on her bare mattress that, on some days, seemed no better than lying on a bed of coal, pull her threadbare sheet up to her chin, and hallucinate the night away.
That much was certain, no matter what came of this evening.
Dana was in possession of the life Nicole wanted. The life she deserved. And if Nicole couldn’t have the life she worked so hard for, why should she let the pitiful leech in front of her, laced in her own disgusting fluids and secretions, have it?
Dana didn’t dare lift her head, but breathed a winded sigh as she watched Nicole’s arm fall limp at her side.
Nicole sighed as well.
She swung the knife high over her head.
Dana's dilated pupils followed the knife lazily. She had not fully realized the fear that made the back of her neck itch.
She gave up struggling against the rope. Her wrists were already raw and her hands were far too slick with the same blood in the puddle on the tiles behind her to get a good grip on anything. She sat in her wooden chair and let her drool well up in the folds of her hiked-up polyester skirt.
"You don't understand how cold I am every night! How scared! All the images in my head that come to bully me--you don't know the half of it!"
For only a split moment, Nicole looked hesitant behind her flu mask, but that was quickly replaced with the cold face of a poised killer. She kneeled down in front of her captive, right next to the incense she'd placed within inches of the chair earlier.
She pressed the knife flat against Dana’s thigh and rested her elbows on it. Dana whimpered. She could feel the knife's edge threaten her skin as Nicole eased her chin into her palm. If either one of them budged, a chunk of meat would have surely been severed from her body.
"All I wanted was someone to hold me and promise me it was okay. Tell me the images weren't real. Tell me I'm not alone. Tell me, Dana!" She yanked the knife from under her elbow and tore right into the center of Dana's right thigh. "Tell me I'm not alone! TELL ME!"
Dana's body quaked. Blood gurgled from her leg and poured onto the floor. It got under her feet and between her toes. She jerked against the chair and swung her head forward. Salty tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped from her lashes. They specked her thighs and made her wound pucker, but she was too weak to even shift to the side or blink her tears away.
"...why me?" The cry was almost made into gibberish by the rope gag pulling back the corners of her mouth and came from her throat like the breathless, high-pitched cry of a dying pig.
Nicole froze.
Why her? Why her? Yeah, why her?
In fact, she knew very little about Dana except that she worked two cubicles down. She had a handsome boyfriend and two loving parents who often came to work to visit her and bring her lunch. She was the life of the office parties that Nicole never attended but always heard about the day after. Corporate loved her. Everyone loved her.
That night, Nicole would return to her shoddy apartment, flip open the Wednesday Pill-Pak, and dump the little bland-colored nubs into the toilet. Then, she would lie down on her bare mattress that, on some days, seemed no better than lying on a bed of coal, pull her threadbare sheet up to her chin, and hallucinate the night away.
That much was certain, no matter what came of this evening.
Dana was in possession of the life Nicole wanted. The life she deserved. And if Nicole couldn’t have the life she worked so hard for, why should she let the pitiful leech in front of her, laced in her own disgusting fluids and secretions, have it?
Dana didn’t dare lift her head, but breathed a winded sigh as she watched Nicole’s arm fall limp at her side.
Nicole sighed as well.
She swung the knife high over her head.
The End.
