18. Her

18

HER

DAY 5

T wo things happened when I saw the guy in the bunny mask leering at me from the other side of the door moments before I was shoved back inside this death chamber. One, I accepted the fact that no one was coming to my rescue. And two, I was reminded of the time my mother's boyfriend had switched off my cartoons in favor of one of those gory nature shows— I couldn't for the life of me remember his name. Which told me he wasn't all that kind or all that abusive. I always remembered the ones who were.

I must have been about six or seven because my feet didn't reach the floor yet so I kicked them back and forth as I ate my breakfast. He had the Discovery Channel playing on the TV, focused on a scene where this pack of wolves cornered and tore a helpless bunny to shreds. I was traumatized for weeks. No matter what I did, I could hear that bunny's screams. See her white fur turn a bright shade of red whenever I closed my eyes.

My mother told me it was natural. The way things were in the world. " You are either a predator or their prey. " Mind you, she said all this while smoking a pack of Marlboros and using my bowl of stale cereal and spoiled milk as her ashtray. Truth be told, I was just happy she was talking to me. The woman rarely acknowledged my existence. So every word she did say was ingrained in my brain with that sudden surge of serotonin.

The point was, that stuck with me. The fact that some of us were predators while others were prey. Especially now, as this man stared at me like I was his next meal. And for the first time, I felt like that bunny.

I knew he was going to kill me. He'd made up his mind. There was no doubt anymore. And I couldn't help but wonder what that bunny was thinking in her last moments. Had she accepted her fate or was there some part of her that held out hope? Thought if she fought hard enough, there'd be a way out.

A chance…