"Meantime, this afternoon, local authorities are investigating a recent murder in a Coffee County neighborhood. The authorities have yet to disclose-"

You change the channel out of disinterest with a click of the remote. Your eyes are suddenly assaulted by a barrage of bright, saturated colors of a commercial, prompting a tired groan. You turn off the TV with another click of the remote and recline back into your chair. You yawn loudly as air pushes through the cushions. A quick look at your phone shows the late hour, and you decide to retire to bed somewhat earlier than usual. After a quick and lazy brushing of your teeth, you walk down the dark hallway towards your bedroom.

Photos of you and your family decorate the walls, though the most prominent frame was your high school diploma. Being the only recognizable achievement of your life so far, it still stings to look at, especially after having dropped out of college. Burying the thoughts to avoid another downward spiral of self-pity, you enter your bedroom. After a quick dressing into your comfortable set of plaid pajamas, you climb into bed and situate yourself under the covers. Still not ready to drift off to sleep yet, you fumble for your phone on the night dresser and check through your emails. You scroll past numerous unopened messages until you eventually find the one titled "Interview". You open it up and reread the message for what would be the fifth time today. 

"8 o'clock," you mumble as you tap away at your phone to set an alarm, then place it back at your side. However, as you close your eyes, the alarm begins to blare after what felt like just a few minutes. A chill courses through your body as you open your eyes and take in the blurry, dimly lit bedroom. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you eventually come to realize that you hadn't dreamed as you reach for your phone. After a slow stretch, you turn the phone alarm off and begin to crawl out of bed. Not wanting to waste any time, you shamble into the shower and quickly prep for the day. After drying and applying what you needed, you leave the bathroom and dress in the best business attire you have.

With one last look in the mirror and at the time, you put on your shoes and leave your home. You lock the door and begin your slow trek out to the closest and only place you could really work: a grocery store. Options are unfortunately limited when you don't have a car. Your parents insisted on buying a car for you that you could pay back later, but you didn't want to put any more stress on their currents debts. You especially didn't want to do that after dropping out of college for just that reason. You assured them that you had a plan figured out, though you really didn't. Despite your altruism quickly coming back to bite you in the ass, you still feel relieved at hearing that your parent's finances are finally becoming more stable. 

Your mind wanders aimlessly as you try to pass the time walking to the grocery store. You feel somewhat desperate for anything to help make time pass by. Unable to think of anything, you look around your surroundings as you cross a street. You see a brick church with white painted wooden structures and a human man in a jacket standing near its similarly white doors. As he turns to look at you, you raise your hand up and give a slight wave to the churchgoer. You can somewhat make out him smiling as he returns the wave, albeit at a slower pace. You return the smile and nod before continuing on with your walk.
 
The grocery store is thankfully not too far ahead, and the temperature was just mild enough for the walk to be done without any sweat soiling your clothes. You walk past the parking lot and into the front doors, where you see an alligator anthro working the cash register. You approach and ask the disgruntled reptile where you should meet your potential employer, and are quickly directed to a room off in the side of the building. After a few minutes of waiting and listening to other employees talk to one another outside of a big set of lockers, an ocelot lady approaches you. For roughly half an hour, you're asked questions regarding your position and resume. Eventually, she concludes the interview and gives you a handshake. She dismisses you on a note of contacting you in the future regarding your hiring and thanks you for your time. You smile and thank her, then leave the side room and exit the grocery store to return home.

You fish out your phone and try to pass the time on the walk back. Eventually, you enter a dull state of mind and soon find yourself back in your neighborhood. Putting the phone back inside your pocket, you stroll towards your modest home, hoping that the message would be sent soon. You take a quick glance around the sunny neighborhood as you rummage for your keys in your pocket. While you would normally harbor envious thoughts about the cars parked at practically every house, something else catches your eye: the man from the church. He stands close at the corner down the road as he looks your way. Though you hadn't taken the time to affiliate yourself with the neighbors, you were mildly surprised to see him. You assume he was a neighbor and had returned from his trip, so you give another quick, friendly wave and return your attention to the door. Finally fishing out the key you needed, you unlock the door and embrace the cool air of your home.
 
You turn on the TV to put some noise in the house as you undress and begin planning dinner. However, your plans can be counted on one hand due to low budgets, all of which are about the same regarding quality. You settle for the simplest option: packaged ramen. Bright colors once again light up the screen, to which you switch to another channel for a brief moment of relief. Landing on the news channel, you see a weather report warning of incoming thunderstorms rolling in tonight. Curious, you take a brief moment to push aside the blinds of your window to look up at the sky. But like before, something else catches your eye: the man from the church is still there. He's looking directly at you, even though the blinds of the window. Though every fiber of your body urges you to back away, you continue to peek at him through the blinds, and you notice something else. Something terribly off about him that you hadn't noticed before. He still has the same smile from when he was at the church. 

Goosebumps make themselves visible on your skin as you drop the blind and back away. You try to calm yourself by mentally reassuring yourself that he's nothing more than an odd fellow. But, just to be safe, you check each lock in the house and make certain the deadbolt's latched, with the security being turned on for extra measure. Now feeling some semblance of relief, you try to relax back into your chair and pass the time with television. Eventually, the time for dinner comes as daylight turns to dusk. You prep yourself a bowl of ramen and consume it just as quickly you the time you took to make it.
 
Having nothing better to do than burn more brain cells watching TV, you decide to go to bed. After going through your usual routine, you hear distant booms and cracks of thunder past the rapidly increasing pitter-patter of rain. Just before you climb into bed, you shoot a glance at the window. A cold feeling snakes its way through your spine, and you decide to look out just for one quick moment. You nearly scream as you once again spot the smiling man, standing underneath the orange glow of a street light in the rain. All of the warmth and comfort of your home disappear in an instant as you back away from the window. You run towards your closet to frantically dig for a weapon, but before you could find anything, an ear-splitting boom crashes through the house. In an instant, the power cuts out and you are submerged in darkness.

You blindly fumble out of the closet into your bedroom, everything barely lit by orange light peeking in through the blinds. You desperately try to find your phone on your night dresser, only to come to the cold realization that you left your phone in the living room. Before you could begin to scramble there to call the police, the sound of shattered glass freezes you in place. With your breath caught in your throat, the only sound you can hear is the continuous, unforgiving sound of rain droning on outside with the occasional strike of lightning. But after a few seconds, you hear something different past the rain. A thumping; first near-silent, but quickly getting louder and closer by the second. Fear overtaking you, you fumble through your pitch-black room to find anything of use in your defense. A brief thought of escaping through the window comes to your panic-struck mind, but the thought was quickly interrupted as the door to your bedroom creaks open. You didn't need to see through the dark to know who it was.
 
Screaming out in pure terror, you dash towards the window as a last resort, but the man is much faster. A tight hand grips your neck and slams you to the ground, bashing your head against the floor. Gasping for air, you try to scream out once again and kick blindly at the man, but a second-hand joins the first to strangle you. Each second seems to take an eternity as his hands grip tightly at your throat. The first three were spent trying to pry his hands away, failing miserably. The next three, you begin to blindly throw your fists and kick your legs to try and throw him off, but to no avail. Your vision blurs as consciousness begins to fail you as your lungs empty. You look at your attacker, the details only barely noticeable in the dim light. The man still grins, his once innocent smile now malicious as he chokes you. 

With the light just barely illuminating the room, you can see his face is anything but. Its lips are completely frozen and its eyes static, quickly revealing itself to be a mask hiding the cruel being behind it. With desperation fueling your every move, you try once again to strike the being. However, as your body is deprived of its precious oxygen, you could do no more than weakly beat against its arms. Finally, your vision blackens and all feeling goes numb.
 
A mixture of sharp and dull throbs in your body are the first things you feel as you awaken from your slumber. Your eyes open to darkness complete darkness. To your touch, all you feel is your bone-chilling clothes soaked completely wet. Your heart begins to beat erratically in your chest as you recall your previous events. A sharp pain pierces through your head and you try to reach up to it, only to find your hands bound behind you. With panic reestablishing itself fully, you desperately try to shake your arms, but receive no purchase. Similarly, your legs are bound as well, leaving you completely immobile in an unfamiliar environment. 

"HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE FUCKING HELP!" you scream out, hoping that anyone may have heard you. Hope begins to rise as the sound of a door opens off in the distance. 

"HERE! PLEASE, GOD, I'M IN HERE!" 

The dull thumping of footsteps eventually closes in to your dark location. A muffled click reveals a thin line of light close to you, revealing your location to be a very small room; most likely a closet. Before you can yell something else, the door opens to an unfortunately familiar sight. All hope dispersed in an instant as you look up to see the masked being looking down at your tied form.

---

A flurry of emotions clashes within you as you look up at the being in sheer dread: rage, disgust, isolation, fear... All keeping you still in horrified shock. The masked creature continues to stare down at you with its emotionless, plastic eyes; its body completely motionless. The only thing that keeps you anchored to consciousness is the freezing cold pajamas glued to your skin. Coupling that with seeing the hidden visage of your kidnapper causes you to involuntary shiver and shake, the motions limited thanks to your bounded state. He... Or it, continues to stare down at you as your body involuntarily fights the bindings, almost like how one would study an ant. 

Though your mind is shackled with fear and frailty, you want to find your voice and scream out, "LET ME GO, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

... But the only noise you could muster is a pained whimper. Several moments pass in unnerving silence as you stare up at your kidnapper. You notice blotches of rain on the jeans and black jacket it wears, but you can't make out any useful details of the being behind the mask or clothes. Suddenly, it moves, prompting a gasp from you as it reaches down. It hooks both arms underneath your back and legs, then lifts you up close to its body. As a last, desperate attempt to escape, you begin to violently squirm as it walks through several unfamiliar, empty rooms.

"No, no, no, no!" you cry out. Despite your struggles, its strength far exceeds yours, keeping you still its cloth-obscured, muscular arms. After several moments of failing to deter it with your writhing, you're suddenly released from its grasp to fall onto a bed. The masked being looks down at you with cold, unchanging eyes. You feel frozen in place as you expect the worst. However, beyond all expectations, it reaches down to your bound legs and starts to undo the rope. 

As your legs finally receive room to move, you blindly kick out at the being. Your efforts were quickly killed as it grips your legs tightly by the calves. A sharp, piercing pain burns through your legs as you struggle and shake, prompting you to scream out in agony. Your panicked mind soon gets the message and you stop kicking your legs. It still holds on tight for several seconds until it finally releases, revealing its bloodied hands. Or rather, claws. 

In the bright fluorescent lighting of the bedroom, you notice that what you had assumed to be gloves are instead its own hands. Each finger ends in a blood-covered claw, with a coating of golden-brown fur along the backside. It lifts one hand up to the plastic eyes of the mask, appearing to study the blood. It clenches its hand and resumes its earlier task. It returns to your legs, gripping at the cold, wet pajama pants you're wearing. With slow, purposeful tugs, it removes the wet article of clothing from your body, revealing your similarly soaked underwear and bleeding, punctured legs. You're confused by its motives until you see it start to reach for your underwear.

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no! Please, dear god no!" you scream out desperately. You inch yourself backward away from the being, your leg wounds slowly dripping blood along the covers. It pauses in its reach and once again stares at you with its unnatural eyes. Remaining as silent as always, it looks down to the discarded pair of pajama pants next to you and picks it up. It suddenly tears off a leg of your once-favorite pair of comfort wear with a loud rip. Before you could uselessly ask what it was going to do, you are cut off as it quickly begins wrapping the wet cloth around your mouth. You violently shake your head side to side to try and resist the makeshift gag, but a firm hand grips the side of your head. You force yourself still, especially as you see a still bloodied claw so horrifying close to your eye. 

The gag digs into your mouth as it ties the fabric in a knot behind your head. Your frightened shouts are made into nothing more than muffled noise. Seemingly satisfied with its work, it returns its attention to your soaked underwear and starts to slowly peel it off your cold, wet body. Your stomach churns in disgust as your freezing genitals are soon revealed to the masked freak. Your mind once flooded with unanswered questions and possibilities of its motives now focus on a single thought. A lone possibility that threatens the risk of you vomiting in your gagged mouth: rape. You keep yourself still out of fear for your life as you watch for any movement from the thing in nauseating worry. 

However, your eyes widen as you see its bloodied hand reach to the underside of its mask and begin to take it off. The realistic, rubber human mask is peeled off of a furred snout before finally being entirely removed. What laid under the mask was the face of a rabbit. Female, unless it was a very feminine male. Her fur is a grey color, with drooped ears reaching down to her shoulders like long bangs of hair, and bright blue eyes focused on your near-naked form. The top of her head lacked human hair, and her distant expression made the mask appear friendly and welcoming. 

As your mind reels from confusion as you recognize the true species of your captor, you immediately begin to mentally question her golden-brown furred hands and claws. You were expecting possibly a feline or some other sort of traditionally predator-like anthro. Your eyes dart to her hands, looking for any sort of reasoning as to why she possesses such a confusing pair of hands. You eventually find your answer: a slightly obscured black-stringed suture in the side of her hands. In your fear-stricken mind, you came to the realization that you were somewhat right: she is wearing gloves. But they are indeed hands. 

Bile finally forces its way up your throat and into your mouth. With nowhere for the acid to go but back down, you force yourself to swallow the burning fluid as you came to your horrifying conclusion. Your heart bangs in a rapid speed in your chest, making consciousness hard to hold. However, you have yet to be gifted such a sweet, momentary release from this nightmare. You look back to the rabbit, her cruel, neutral gaze still studying your bleeding legs and bare groin. You only ever get the barest hint of an emotion or thought as her eyes dart from piece to piece of your body, her eyes ever so slightly narrowing at most moments. She resembled that of someone staring down at a slab of meat, with no care for who or even what you are. 

As you continue to study her in a panicked fear, you still fail to find any reasoning for her actions or lack thereof. Possibilities reopen themselves to you, your mind refocusing on the gloves she possesses. With rape far removed from your immediate thought, you now fear the likelihood of becoming nothing more than an accessory. Much like whatever poor soul she retrieved her "gloves" from. After what felt to be nearly an hour of silent studying from the rabbit, she finally breaks her gaze and looks you in the eyes. Your breath hastens as you turn to look away as your body once again involuntarily shakes. 

Unable to face her, all you can feel is her tug at the wet fabric of your plaid pajama top. You want to turn to see what she was doing, but you fight the urge on the thought of staring your potential killer in her careless eyes once again. You breathe in sharply as you're suddenly flipped on your front, your bounded arms now revealed up to the rabbit. Questions once again flood your mind, but they all disperse in confusion as you feel a slight tug at your binding. Time seems to slow to a crawl as you feel each tug and pull at the rope at your arms, all rational thought leaving as you enter your fight-or-flight response. Adrenaline fills your veins as you feel your bonds becoming looser and looser until you finally feel the rope come loose. 

Without wasting another second, you thrust a still bleeding leg back into the rabbit blindly, connecting into her midriff and sending her back. You blindly scramble off the bed and dash towards the door, ignoring the thought to look back and see if she gives chase. Your bare feet stomp against the carpeted floor as you blindly run through the dark maze of the unknown house. You desperately look for any way to escape while quickly closing open doors behind you as some possible way to slow your kidnapper down. But despite your frenzied search and sprint through numerous rooms, you've yet to come to a room indicating any sign of leading outside. 

You feel more adrenaline pump into your body as you hear the sound of much, much faster footsteps booming from the rooms behind you, only momentarily interrupted by the sounds of doors slamming open before resuming the fast tempo of your oncoming ruin. You force your legs to keep moving, the searing pain nearly forcing you to collapse. You were only halfway through one darkened room until you hear the door directly behind you loudly crash open. You couldn't turn fast enough to see the rabbit crash into your back and send both you and her down to the floor.

You scream out against your gag, struggling to fight against your attacker as she pins your arms back together. The familiar texture of coarse rope is reintroduced to your bare skin as she quickly wraps them back together. You try to wildly kick at her, but your efforts are fruitless as she quickly ties them back together. You can hear the rabbit loudly sigh out as she gets off of your half-naked body. You feel tears beginning to well up in your eyes as you once again scream into your gag. A minute. A single minute of freedom was all you could achieve against your captor. 

You feel her hands grab you and lift you up from the carpeted floor. You continue to mindlessly squirm and scream as she carries you through the rooms, all despite knowing that even if you were to somehow succeed in making her drop you that it would all be pointless. Slowly, she walks back through the dark corridors and rooms of the maze, until she returns to a lit room with an open closet door. Kneeling down, she abruptly drops you back into your previous spot and stands back up. You continue to cry out in fear and anger against your gag, to which the rabbit only responds with an emotionless look down at your form. 

She grips the door handle, but before she shuts you in, her eyebrows rise as if she recognizes something. She then kneels back down to you and grips your still wet and freezing cold pajama shirt with both hands. She tears the middle of your shirt down your chest and then rips at the sleeves, leaving you completely naked. She stands back up as she tosses the wet scraps of pajama shirt behind her. You expect her to then close the door, but she instead stares down at your writhing, stripped form for another long, uncomfortable, silent span of time. Eventually, she closes the door, leaving you in near-complete darkness. 

The rough carpet of the closet floor digs into your skin as you wiggle around in your small space. Your shrieking is once again rendered moot against your gag, but you couldn't force yourself to stop. You couldn't help but yell out, both from the pain from your leg wounds and the cocktail mixture of panicked emotions. You continue your desperate shaking and wails until you're submerged back into pitch-black darkness, as the only source of light from under the door is turned off. 

You don't know how long you spend trying to break out of your rope bonds or even at the very least remove the restraint on your mouth. The flow of time is difficult to gauge in the dark, especially when coupled with your still panicked mind. But slowly, your struggles and screams die down to negligible mutters and wiggles, until eventually you are left motionless and silent in the dark. All you wanted to do now was cry. How long you cried, you don't know. What felt like hours could be minutes, but to you, it wasn't until a very, very long time that you eventually fell asleep.

---
 
You awake to the feeling of your eyes burning, a terrible itch on your bare skin, and sweltering heat replacing the bitter cold you had felt before. You try to reposition yourself to find some semblance of relief from your irritated skin but only manage to thump your head and bound legs against the narrow walls of your dark, cramped prison. Eventually, you give up in your many fruitless attempts to find some comfort and decide to remain still. However, a new pain quickly makes itself known as you feel the bruises from your failed escape flare-up coupled with the soreness from your bindings. Unable to act upon your discomforts, all you could do is hope the feeling eventually passes and pray that someone will eventually find you. Holding some hope that eventually, someone will notice your absence and will soon rescue you from the rabbit psycho. 

Surely someone would see the broken window, or the security system to your house would have gone off. Maybe even a neighbor saw her take you away, or perhaps the grocery store you were to work at would notice your sudden absence. Anything at all, and that it would all eventually lead to the blessed sounds of heavy boots kicking the doors to this hell down. A voice yelling out "Police!" before sounds of gunfire, then eventually someone finding you stashed away in this closet to bring you back home. All you have to do is wait and pray that they will eventually come.

Eventually.

Maybe.

That's all you could hope for.

...

'Oh God, I'm going to die here.'
 
Before you could enter another fit of panic, the echoing sound of footsteps begins to reach your ears. You feel your heart pump faster and faster against your chest in nervous suspense as the footsteps slowly draw closer. The lights soon flicker on and the door opens, the bright light blinding you. You grimace and gasp as you try to blink your blurry vision away, all the while she just stands there looking down at you. Her mask is absent this time, and with a quick glance, her "gloves" are gone too. Her grey-haired hands end in fuzzy, round-clawed digits, both resting down at her side. 

Her unreadable gaze looks over your naked, sweating form for half a minute in silence before she finally acts. Like before, she bends down to hook her arms underneath you to lift you up, then carries you off towards some room. You grunt out against your gag while breathing heavily through your nose, your body acting on its own as it tries to worm its way out of her grasp despite knowing that you couldn't hope to escape. Looking up, her expression is solely focused on what's ahead and remains as frighteningly non-expressive as before. Finally, she comes to a stop, prompting you to look at your new surroundings. 

A white porcelain bathtub is the first thing you see in the small, white-tiled room. To the side is a simple sink cabinet and toilet with a towel rack on the opposite wall. Before you can study the bathroom any further, the rabbit sets you down gently into the bathtub sitting up. She then twists the tub faucet on and causes a rush of warm water to begin flowing into the tub. You watch in mixed confusion and fear as the rabbit coldly stares at the water. You can feel it soak the rope binding your legs and arms as it slowly rises up. 

Eventually satisfied with its level, the rabbit stops the flow of water and looks at your once again wet and restrained body in silence. Each time she looks at you, you can't help but fear for the worse. You can't even get as much of a hint of what she intends to do with you. Maybe you'll be kept alive? Maybe she'll skin you after this and add you to a grotesque collection hidden away in her home. Another minute of silent observing passes before she acts, sending another wave of confusion over you as she begins to undress. 

She first unzips her jacket, revealing a black shirt that she soon removes after taking off her jacket. Any doubts you held before about her sex were quickly dismissed as she takes off her shirt and pants, revealing a pair of palmable breasts held by a plain black bra. That too she removes and discards among the growing pile of clothes, then finally her jeans and underwear to reveal what is an undeniably female genitalia. In any other circumstance, you would be excited at such a show, but given who you're seeing naked, you only feel disgusted towards her and yourself for feeling a bit of a reaction surge through your penis. 

Finally as naked as you are, she pushes the clothes aside with her foot and steps into the bathtub, sitting directly across from you. She towers over you in height, easily a near full foot taller than you are. You can see her entire body uncovered, immediately taking note of her thick muscles showing through the wet fur in the water from her well-built legs, her barely visible abs obscured by fur, and muscular arms that were previously hidden away by her jacket. But with being so close, what draws your eyes in the most was her face. Not because of beauty or ugliness that you previously could not see from your constant state of panic from being near her, but because of the complete lifelessness in her face. 

Her eyes hold no emotion to them and appear as soulless as a doll's. Her mouth complimented her eyes with a completely neutral expression, almost appearing as though she was completely detached from everything. While you were never one to be able to accurately read one's emotions, especially not from an anthro, you're certain that not even the most trained professional could tell what she could be thinking. You almost want to look at her mask more than see her face. At least that has the facade of life and emotion mimicked in plastic than seeing this dead, careless look in fur, flesh, and blood.
 
You try and inch yourself backward from the rabbit, but eventually feel your back press against the cold texture of the end of the tub. She repeats her disturbing but expected pattern of observing then acting after an uncomfortable silence. She looks behind herself to grab a red plastic bottle. After popping the cap off, she squirts a handful of white substance into her palm. She moves forward closer to you, closing what little distance you've made in nearly an instant. Using her other hand, she cups warm water in her palm and pours it over your head a few times before spreading the substance into your hair, revealing it to be shampoo. 

She digs her digits into your scalp and starts lathering, moving her hands all across your head. Her claws scratch and shift through your hair uncomfortably, forcing you to wince and try to move your head away. Eventually, she stops at the makeshift gag tied near the back of your head. Her cold eyes stare deep into yours as her hands grasp the knot before finally untying it and allowing you to speak. She tosses the wet strip of cloth into the sink and returns to lathering your hair. With your voice finally returned, you want to scream or yell, but you know very well how quickly she'd silence you again. 

Instead, you begin to beg a quiet, hoarse voice. "Why are you doing this?" If she heard or understood you, she doesn't seem to care to answer as she continues quietly rubbing her hands through your hair. Another minute passes as she begins washing out the white foam. 

"Please... Answer me." As before, she ignores you and reaches for another bottle, now squeezing a handful of blue gel into her hand before rubbing down your face and body. You instinctively close your eyes as she rubs your face, spreading the gel before pausing as she reaches down to your neck. Unable to see what she's doing, you feel her powerful hands grip around your arms and lift you up to a stand. She then spins you around before forcing you back down to a sit. Warm water washes over your head once again, allowing you to see without further causing further pain to your eyes. 

With the rabbit now behind you, all you could do was stare forward at the wall or look over your shoulder at your captor. Your skin crawls as her hands explore the bare skin of your back and spread the gel around. You feel her hands touch over your arms before trailing down to your rope restraints. Her powerful hand once again grabs your arm and squeezes tightly, meanwhile, her other hand grabs onto the rope. You gasp out as her grip tightens around your arm, freezing your squirms entirely as she silently establishes her dominance. Her grip loosens slightly as she begins to untie the rope restraints until you're finally given freedom from both her grip and rope. 

Perhaps it was the sudden rush that made you decide in that split second, but the moment your arms were free you begin to slam your elbows back blindly against her. You manage to strike her twice, somewhere by your best judgment around her ribs, before she grips your arms again. You almost scream as her grip tightens even further than before, sending waves of pain through your sore limbs. You almost feel as though her grip could crack your bones into pieces, if not strip the flesh from your arms despite her dull claws. After nearly half a minute of agony, she eventually let go, letting your arms fall to your side. Your breath shudders violently as you bring your arms forward, afraid of receiving any further pain and to see if she left any wounds like that on your still bloody legs.

You see the rope get tossed to where the gag was thrown, then quickly feel her return to work by rubbing at your arms and underneath. She forces your arms back towards herself as she rubs you down, forcing you to groan out in discomfort and disgust. You eventually feel her hands grip both of your hurt arms and drag you back into her until you're sitting in her lap. The wet fur of her rock-hard body presses into your back, her head looming above yours. Now being so close, you can feel her breath hit your wet skin in bursts of uncomfortably cool air. For several moments, this was the only sound you can hear, until you soon hear an incredibly loud and uninterrupted sniff as something touches the top of your head. 

The slimy feeling of nausea fills your guts as she breathes out heavily into your hair, hot air washing over you as she slowly exhales through her mouth. You can feel bile rising in your throat, your body trembling as you realize you're nothing more than a plaything for this monster. You close your eyes, continuing to hold onto the vain hope that someone, somewhere, somehow will find out you are missing and will come to your rescue. You keep your eyes closed as you wait for this all to be over with, praying that it will all come to an end eventually. Then you begin to feel something.

A light touch, at first trailing down the front of your body before dipping down into the water and heading towards your waist. Your eyes shoot open and look down, immediately noticing her grey arm reaching around your body to paw at your genitals. Unbridled fear fills you as you once again blindly thrash against her and try to find some way out, but her other arm braces you against her. She keeps you pinned to her body and prevents your arms from reaching out to push her other arm away from your groin. You can feel her own heartbeat beat through her chest and into your body, her speed picking up along with your own as she fondles your testicles.
 
You thrust your tied legs out and to the side as she plays with your testicles and rolls them around her fingers, all the while crying out for her to stop in a raspy voice. The water splashes from side to side, spilling out of the tub and onto the floor. The harsh, vile burning of acid in your chest quickly rises to your mouth, which you struggle to hold back as she continues molesting you. She begins to take deeper breathes in with her nose against your wet hair and out through her mouth. You can feel a heat building on your "seat" in her lap under the water as she continues her assault, quickly rising in temperature until it almost feels scalding on the skin. 

However, what you hated the most was that though you hated every single second from beginning to end, your member reacted to the stimulation regardless and begins to fill with blood. The rabbit very quickly notices as her fingers trail up to your hardening shaft and gently press it between her thumb and index finger. Your thrashes continue unabated, though your yelling was quick to ebb away to furious grunts as it became painful to yell out. Her prodding eventually halts as your penis is soon fully hard, all despite your disgust towards this woman. She grips your hard member in her wet hand, then slowly rubs at the tip with her thumb in a circular motion. Before you can try to scream once again, she stops and lets go of your member. 

Her hand reaches up behind you and you can feel her head back away. Then, a different sound was heard past the breathing: a soft, smack of something wet. You twist your head back to look at her, seeing the end of her thumb halfway in her mouth and her usually vacant expression now replaced with that of something else. Her eyes are half-closed and focused on the back of her hand. Her mouth hangs slightly open as she licks her digit, eventually giving her thumb one last lick before she pulls her hand away. She looks at her thumb and rubs it against the side of her index finger, then her eyes quickly dart to yours. 

For the first time, you see her mouth begin to creep into the slightest of smiles. This time, you can't hold back the bile in your throat and promptly begin to evacuate the burning fluids onto the floor beside the tub. With your head light from exhaustion, you can barely register what else she continues to do. You feel her hands reach down to your legs and rub at the wounds that clotted over into scabs, washing away any bloodstains that may have remained. Then, as silent as ever, reaches over you and opens the drain, causing the now chill water to disappear. Her arm that was previously holding you now shifts under your own and she lifts you up from the bathtub.

She then places you down sitting onto the top of the closed toilet seat. She grabs a clean, white towel across from you and begins drying herself off. You desperately eye the door, but with her in the way and your legs still bound, you doubt you could make much of anything happen. Once she finishes, she then begins to dry you off with her towel. Surprisingly gentle with her touch, she rubs the soft cloth across your head and body, then works her way down to your legs. You briefly break out of your cloudy state to see her grab at the wet rope binding your legs and look up at you with her once-again emotionless face. 

You know already what she implies and stay still. You doubt that even on your best of days that you could be able to outfight, let alone outrun her, especially in so small of a room. The restraints on your legs are soon removed, then placed beside the others discarded previously. Finally, she finishes drying off your legs and puts the towel aside. Quietly, she picks up her discarded clothes and puts them back on piece by piece, but remains standing in front of the door and your only way out. Again, you doubt it would matter either way. 

Just the thought of thinking in this manner makes you want to break down into a disgusting, pitiful sob. After she finishes dressing, she lifts you up in a princess carry and leaves the bathroom. You feel exhausted. Ready to collapse. Hoping that you'd fall asleep and wake up from this nightmare. Maybe death would be better than being this monster's thing to play with.
 
She stops in another room, this one already brightly lit. Were it anyone else's home, you'd see it as nothing more than a regular living room. A television hangs above a cabinet with a sofa and chair across from it, and a small coffee table set beside the sofa with a remote control on it. No pictures or decorations hang on the blank, white walls, and there isn't a single window to give you hope of escaping. On the carpeted floor, you see a dark red stain near the center. You quickly recognize it to be the blood from your legs after being tackled by her last night.

God, for what you know, it could have been the middle of the afternoon. 

Only two exits are here aside from the one you and she entered from. One doorless exit across from you and a door right beside it, most likely a closet. The rabbit moves towards the sofa and drops your body against the cloth, then leaves your side to go to the closet. Again, your panic-filled mind considers fleeing as she's distracted while looking through the closet. Perhaps even striking her from behind with anything you could get your hands on. Your heart races as your rational side quickly reminds you of her numerous advantages over you. 

You realize that if you want to escape, she would need to be incapacitated or out of this house. For now, all you could hope to do is endure your torment and seize your moment once it comes, and there is nothing here that you could hope to use against her. She finishes her search and returns to your side, brandishing a blanket. She wraps it around your body, covering you from front to back in a soft fabric, then brings you close to her side like a gross imitation of a romantic couple. Her arm hooks around you and brings your head to a rest against her breast, which you're quick to protest with a dry groan of disapproval. 

She reaches across you for the remote and flicks on the television, then quietly browses through the channels before eventually stopping on the news channel. Different reports of various occurrences pass by, but one catches your attention past the others once a host talks about the discovery of a murdered body at a church. You're quick to perk up from your dazed fatigue, recognizing the church on the television. A sturdy built structure with brick and wood painted white. Your soon to arise question is quickly answered as the name of the church is spoken, revealed to be the very one you passed by on your walk to the grocery store. 

The reporter speaks of a corpse found ditched in the tool shed, near gutted like a farm animal. The air of malignity exuding from the rabbit intensifies as you quickly connect her appearance at the church that day. Once again feeling sick to your core, you watch on in hope of hearing some witness see her leave the scene or something to trace her back to where you are now. But the reporter goes on, only listing the damages of the man of resembling that of a large feline's claws, most likely that of a tiger or cougar, and that the police are continuing to investigate. Your heart sinks as the report soon ends, leaving nothing of true note regarding the identity of the culprit, whereupon the channel is soon switched. Looking at the rabbit, you almost feel as if you're staring at a nightmare made flesh. 

She continues to watch the screen, passing channel by channel before eventually stopping on one showing some movie. Her hold around you tightens as she brings you closer, where you feel her chest rise as she takes a relaxed deep breath in and out. Thankfully, her nose was away from you, though that meager benefit did little to comfort you. You see the corners of her lips shift ever so slightly up, showing one other form of emotion as she keeps you next to her. You force your view away and towards the TV. Hell, even looking at the white paint on the wall would be more appealing.

Anything to inure yourself and find some way to make time go faster. Unfortunately, each and every second feels longer than the last, making every minute feel like hours as you try to tear yourself away and lose yourself in the movie. Each time before you could immerse yourself, the hand of the rabbit is quick to tear you back into your terrible reality by stroking at your leg through the blanket. Each slight touch or shift of her body reminding you of where you're trapped and who holds the key to your cell. Time was against you; not in speed, but in a sluggish crawl. Suddenly, your cramped isolation in the closet appeared to you as a slice of heaven, and you could only pray to return to such a place.

---
 
After another eternity of silent suffering, she apparently has had enough and decides to turn the TV off with a click of the remote. She stands up and digs her hand through the covers, grabbing your own and dragging you up to a stand. As always, you want to pull your hand away, but you know one way or another she will force you to move. This time, she seems intent on walking with you than carrying you. However, with her hand gripping yours to the point you fear she'll snap your wrist and the speed at which she's moving, she's almost dragging you along. 

Like before, she leads you through multiple rooms, each one bathed in darkness, until she eventually stops. Your feet feel cold tile before you can see what's around you. She turns on the lights, revealing your location to be the kitchen. It's a moderately sized room, with a counter against the wall with a built-in sink, a stove in between two sections of a counter, and a fridge set in the corner of the room. A trashcan sits close to the door and a table in the middle of the room has scraps of newspaper cut out on top. However, what caught your interest the most were two, small curtains hanging over the sink. 

Your hope begins to resurface as you realize a window is most definitely behind it, though it looks to be smaller than your own head. While no light shines through, you feel relief, albeit slight, knowing that you're one wall away from freedom. Regardless, you're almost surprised at how well-decorated the kitchen is. None of it is something you would expect someone like her to have. The kitchen, the carpeted floors, the living room, this big house that you most likely haven't seen all of yet; it's all something you'd see a normal person having. Someone just like you.

She lets go of your hand and pulls a chair back, silently inviting you to sit. Knowing you have no choice, you're forced to accept her invitation to sit at the table. She leaves your side for a moment, walking to the fridge to open it up and pull out a white to-go box. She opens it up and puts the styrofoam package in front of you, then takes out a fork from the cupboard behind you and puts it at your side. You look behind you to look inside the cupboard, perhaps hoping to find some sort of weapon like a knife, but all you see are plain butter knives, spoons, and forks.

You grip the fork and look down at it, wondering if you could stab her while her back was turned to you. Your hand begins to shake as you contemplate the consequences of failing, most likely risking permanent injury, if not death. All on the slightest chances of incapacitating her, or better yet, somehow killing her. Hands still shaking violently, you place the fork back down on the table and force yourself to swallow the spit building in your mouth. You want nothing more than to leave, but you once again know that you can't act on your impulsive need to run or fight back. It's almost painful forcing yourself to stay seated as conflicting emotions clash within you.

You take a deep breath and release it through your nose, your chance now gone as she takes a seat across from you. You don't think you'd be able to use any kind of knife or weapon to take her head-on, and you doubt this fork could do anything more than a nasty flesh wound. Maybe while she's asleep? You turn your attention back to the to-go box and inside are various Chinese foods: rice, noodles, chicken, etc. While you're thankful you won't be starving, her feeding you still doesn't help you figure out why she has you here, especially on top of your previous, horrible experience in the bathtub with her.

Is she teasing you before she kills you? Prepping you? She seems very confident in keeping you free of your bonds, though her proving her strength time and time again does give a reason for it. Your skin crawls as you try to figure her out, wanting to change focus to your meal. You dig your fork in and scoop a bit of food into your mouth. While you still feel incredibly ill being so close to her and trapped in her home, you can't deny the need to eat and start slowly eating with forceful swallows.

You see her push herself backward with the chair and stand up, then approach the sink. As she reaches for another cabinet, you begin to have a slight idea of a better weapon than the meager fork. However, as she opens up the cupboard it reveals rows of plastic cups, your plan of acquiring some form of makeshift weapon with a broken glass quickly disappearing. Grabbing a random cup, she fills it up with water from the sink then puts it at your side before sitting back down at her seat. You take deep, eager gulps from the water, allowing the liquid to bring aid to your parched throat and body. After finishing your drink, you decide to take a look at the newspaper clippings.

You immediately come to regret that decision as you see a cutout headline reading "Mutilated body found in Coffee County". A small piece of text is cut out alongside the headline, making an irregular shape. You're quickly made unable to read any further as she takes the slip of paper away from you and brings it to herself. You take a quick glance at the other snips of paper, each seeming to read the same: Murders, bodies found, possible leads on the killer. All collected in one small pile on the kitchen table. A horrid thought comes to you: 'Are these some sort of trophies?'
 
Her attention seems focused on the newspaper clippings for a moment, but every so often her eyes look back up to yours. Each time her dead eyes reconnect with yours never fails to send an awful chill through your spine. You force your attention back to your food, forcefully swallowing the meal bit by bit. Eventually, you finish, to which the rabbit sees. She takes the box and fork away from you, first placing the fork inside of the sink and then the box into the trash.

Once again without warning, she grabs your hand and brings you up to a stand. She drags you out of the kitchen and flicks the light off. The rooms pass by in a blur as she quickly brings you to yet another room. You begin to doubt that she will never let you go out of fear of you sneaking off or fleeing, to which she would probably be incorrect. You know damn well what she's capable of if you tried running with her so close, and you would rather bide your time than end up crippled or dead. Finally, she reaches the room and flicks on the lights. 

You're quick to recognize it as the bedroom she had brought you to before. You study its furnishing, with everything only further establishing the sense of unease you feel knowing that such a person has such regular, normal-people items. The newspaper snips were morbid, but you had expected grime, dirt, and blood to stain her home. Instead, in her room is queen size bed with a wooden headboard, with several pillows and covers decorating the mattress, though spread in an unorganized mess. Beside the bed is a hamper and a small, wooden nightstand with a drawer, where on top of that is a simple, electronic clock reading 11:37 PM in bright red numbers. Finally, on your left is a dresser with an open door beside it, inside of which you see a sink and toilet through the light shining into the dark room. 

She lets go of your hand and closes the door behind you, then silently begins undressing. Fear courses through your heart as you worry about another assault, your panicked self quickly scanning the room for anything to use to defend yourself. She eventually strips down completely and tosses the clothes aside in the small hamper, then flicks the light switch behind her off. Grabbing your hand again, but in a noticeably gentler fashion, she leads you towards the bed and removes the blanket keeping your naked body covered. The muscular rabbit sits onto the bed, still holding onto your hand, and shifts herself to the other side while bringing you towards her. While you'd much rather sleep in the closet again than anywhere near her, you fear that to earn such a privilege, you'd have to try something drastic and most likely risk another more serious form of injury. 

You would very much not want to test what she would want to do, so you're forced to oblige under fear of your own safety. Her face still completely neutral and lifeless, she waits for you to lay down in bed and then drapes the large sets of covers over both you and her. Then, she shifts herself towards you, closing what little distance there was left on the bed until her body was pressed up against your arm. She flips herself onto her side and drapes her arm over your body, then lifts up on your torso to forcefully flip you onto your own side to face her. Your grunt out in disapproval as she manhandles you into facing her, but she shows no reaction as she brings you up and presses your body into hers. Finally, she digs her other arm under your neck and presses her hand against your shoulders, locking you against her in what would be seen as a lover's embrace as she holds your head in between her breasts. 

A cold, slimy feeling resurfaces in your guts as she holds you so incredibly close, though you fight off the desire to vomit on her in case she decides to give you a reason to not do so again. You also make certain to shift your waist back away from her to avoid her noticing any unfortunate reactions your member may have from this. This feeling of terrible discomfort only increases as you feel her nose once again press into your scalp and breathe in deeply, then breathe out in a long, hot breath as she rests her chin on top of you. Just as before with her on the sofa, time passes by at a snail's pace as your mix of disgust and fear fail to leave your body. Each second you can feel her heart beat through her chest and into your skull as your head lays on her soft yet firm breasts, and her hot breath washes over your head and neck as she sleeps. All the while you can feel the ever so slight twitch of her fingers against your bare back as her hands keep you glued to her side.

Eventually, after an eternity of waiting, you can feel her breath start to come to a slow until eventually, it's near silent. You can't budge your head even an inch just to see how long you were waiting for her to eventually sleep, but regardless, you try to worm your way out of her grasp. However, just like each time you try to escape her hold as she's awake, you fail to free yourself. Her arms refuse to budge an inch, not giving you the slightest headway no matter which way you try to go. As always, you eventually cease your struggle and are forced to swallow your bitter defeat. It's all something that is quickly becoming a very unfortunate pattern of failures, no matter what you try to do. 

You feel a pit of despair begin to grow within you as you remain pressed against the beast, but you try to ignore it as you mentally bring back up your potential saviors. Through perseverance, you manage to dispel your depressing thoughts, thinking that you just need to wait. They will soon find you; all it takes is time. Your heart begins to slow down from its frantic pace as you cling onto this glimmer of hope, and your eyes begin to droop slightly as exhaustion begins to take its toll on your body. The bed is comfortable enough to begin slowly lulling you to sleep, even with the murderous woman literally breathing down your neck. Your eyes start to close.

Until they shoot open in shock as a hand that was previously against the middle of your back trails down to your naked rear and pushes your waist towards her. In an instant, your body is now pressed completely against her. The feeling you had previously quelled returns in force, as all efforts made to begin falling asleep were undone in an instant. And to add insult to injury, her hand begins slowly squeezing your cheek, the rabbit either unknowingly tormenting you in her sleep or having awakened just to do so to you. Your heart begins to pick up the pace once again, returning to it's rapid beats. Sleep will not be coming for you soon tonight. 

Or any other night you are with her, you dread.

---

Sleep fails to come naturally to you. It was only until the feeling of exhaustion overwhelmed your sense of nausea from her never-ending prodding and close contact that you finally fell asleep. As you awaken, you're quick to realize that you have failed to garner any rest from how you feel totally sapped of energy. Through your weary eyes, you can see that you're still firmly held by your captor. If you couldn't escape from her hold before, you definitely couldn't now. Your head feels like a sack of bricks and your limbs boneless sacks of meat that couldn't so much as stop a light breeze. 

Worse, try as you might, you can't find a way to dip back into your state of unconsciousness, despite how tired you feel. Being so close, you swear each movement of hers is a mockery of your lack of success. Her chin keeps your head forced into her breasts, pushing you slightly forward into her assets whenever she adjusts herself unconsciously. You still harbor disgust towards yourself for it provoking a reaction from your penis. Her quiet breathing as her chest rises slightly up in down contrasts your exhausted panic, only further adding insult to injury. Her arms continue to keep you pinned to her body with one hand still firmly against your rear. 

You want to scream. 

To thrash out. 

To strike her, or do something. 

Anything. 

...

But you know it wouldn't matter. You know that not a single thing would change. Nothing beyond bringing yourself further misery and injury.

You know you would still be trapped here for God knows how long with this rabbit, if not for the rest of your life. You begin to reflect on that thought of being here till you die, considering that maybe no one would find you. That you would be forever shackled in this house with her. That you'd never see your family again and they'd soon think you're dead in a ditch. At that point, as the thought of death begins to fill your mind, tears begin to well up in your eyes. You manage to stem the flow, forcing yourself into silence as to avoid deteriorating into a sobbing fit.

You still don't know if the rabbit has a sick perversion to your outcries, but you won't give her the satisfaction if she does. You breathe deeply in and try to focus back onto your rescue, your freedom, and your return to normality. Through effort, you eventually calm yourself and stop the flow of tears. You stay awake for another length of indiscernible time. Though exhaustion still wracked your body, you weren't able to return back to sleep. It wasn't until the shrill ringing of the alarm next to you that you realized it was finally morning. 

Her lop ears twitch slightly to the sound before her whole body shifts. You feel the pressure of her head against yours disappear and her arm's tight embrace loosen. You can feel her hand that was fondling you throughout the night leave, giving you some reprieve. Though you lack the energy to turn, you can hear her hand smack blindly at the table before the beeping of the alarm stopped. You hear her inhale and then exhale through her nose, sending a shiver down your skin as the cool air makes contact with your back, then you feel her rub her chin back into the top of your head and hold you close. 

She remains close to you for several more minutes until she lets out a slight huff and starts to get up. You mentally rejoice at her finally leaving your side, finally giving you just a sliver of peace. You hear the opening and closing of drawers, and with what little strength you have, you turn your head to look at her. You see her dressing up in a black skirt and white button-up shirt, a far cry from the obscuring jacket she wore before. Confusion begins to wash over you as you try to ponder what she could be possibly dressing up for.

She looks at you with her emotionless face as she puts on the last button of her shirt, and you can see something in her eyes. It's very slight, but they scream an emotion that you can't decipher as opposed to her previously dead, uncaring look. They're less open, just by the littlest bit, and she seems to actually look to you rather than at you. You don't know what this is supposed to express, but it nonetheless makes you ill looking into her eyes. You feel like a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming train just moments away from making contact. 

She slowly approaches you, still maintaining eye contact. You would react or crawl away, but you feel as if your body was neck-deep in tar and that so much as twitching a finger would be a herculean task. She looms over you, then grabs your hand and tries to pull you out of bed. You lack the energy to resist and it wasn't until your arm dangles over the edge of the bed that she stops. Another moment of silence passes, until she picks you up in her arms as she's done before, then carries you out of the bedroom.
 
Not even the weakest of struggles could be managed as she carries your still naked form through the house. All of the passing rooms remain a blur thanks to your weary eyes, and it's only until she sets you down that you finally realize you've been placed in the kitchen. She sits you down on a freezing cold chair, then leaves to fetch something behind you. Sounds of rummaging and clattering ring out, then the sound of something pouring followed by a liquid, finally ending with her putting a bowl of cereal and milk on the table between your seat and hers. She takes her seat and sinks a spoon into the bowl, getting a helping of some brand of cereal into her mouth. 

You feel insulted, at first considering if she was eating the only meal set on the table for herself while leaving you to starve. That is, until after she puts the spoon back into the bowl, then reaches across to your mouth. You try to speak, but she takes the opportunity to put the spoon in your mouth and share the meal with you. You gag as she deposits the milk and cereal, coughing loudly as surprise forces you to swallow. As you try to catch your breath, she takes another scoop and tries to repeat, to which you weakly try to scoot yourself backward away from her. Her expression remains as stoic as ever as she watches you blankly, then she stands and steps closer to you with the spoon still in hand. 

The spoon returns to outside your mouth, which you adamantly keep closed. Or rather, as adamantly as you could being just barely capable of remaining lucid. However, your resistance is rendered moot as her other hand roughly grips your jaw and forces it open. You sputter as she puts the spoon in your mouth, sending milk out on yourself and onto the floor. If she took issue with this, you can't tell, as she takes another spoonful and reintroduces it to your mouth to swallow. Despite your insides squirming violently at this, you force yourself to swallow as she continues to give you the remaining half of the cereal. 

Seemingly satisfied after a minute or so of force-feeding, she puts the spoon back into the bowl and puts the two into the sink. The rabbit picks you back up and carries you back through the house. You feel violently ill, almost stimulating that of a bad case of stomach flu, and you struggle to maintain your composure as your guts twist and turn. She returns back to the bedroom and puts you back onto the bed, then disappears for a moment into the bathroom to the side to return with a suit jacket, high heels, and socks. 

'Just what the hell is she doing?' 

Buttoning the last button to her jacket, she leaves for the bedroom door and turns around to you as she prepares to close the door. That look from before is on her face, but now you see another small change. Her mouth is no longer an emotionless line, now curving slightly into a half-smile as she looks at you. Almost as if she's looking at her most precious being in the world. Or worse, taking delight in just how tortured you are. Then without a word, she closes the door behind her. 

Now completely alone, your lack of energy comes back to haunt you in force. Your eyes beg to close for just a moment longer. Unable to resist, you give in and collapse back into bed. You awaken sometime later, some strength finally returning to you from your sleep. Struggling to sit up, you see the clock to the side reading 4:11 PM. You're still stark naked, but aside from the uncomfortable chill, it's the least of your worries at the moment.

You look around the room, seeing no sign of her return, which gives you a slight relief despite knowing she will no doubt come back soon. Your vision quickly snaps to the still-closed door of the bedroom and your heartbeat quickens. You crawl out of bed and try opening it, but your enthusiasm is quickly curbed as you find it to be locked. You briefly consider kicking the door down, recalling only the barest amount of info about kicking above or below the lock. You ready yourself and strike out at the door with your heel, hearing only a dull thud and seeing that the door hasn't budged.

You try several more times, only to groan out in pain as you accidentally injure your foot. From what you could tell, you didn't make the slightest bit of progress. As you rub at the strain on your ankle, you decide to instead look around the bedroom and bathroom for something that might help you escape. In the bedroom, the dressers only have various clothes inside alongside a smaller drawer carrying miscellaneous objects like a nail clipper with no blade, a blunt plastic nail file, a lint roller, and other garbage you paid no attention to. The nightstand next to the bed has the electronic clock on top now reading 4:34 PM and a drawer marked by a small keyhole and locked.

You're unsure of what's inside, but it's apparent that she doesn't want you to get whatever it is that's hiding within. Inside the bathroom was mostly the same, but you took in your surroundings as you searched for any tool to help you. There is a typical toilet and sink, and off to one side is a small shower surrounded by curtains Aside from a few decorations, shower supplies, towels, dental hygiene items, and the closet door you've yet to look into, it appears to be just as much of a bust as the bedroom. Finally, you decide to open the door, only to jump back as the visage of the human mask stares you in the eye.
 
Your heartbeat hastens then returns to a slower pace as you realize the mask is just hanging on a small coat hanger on the wall, not the rabbit miraculously returning to jump out at you from the closet. Taking a breath to calm yourself, you continue onward and look around. Aside from another jacket and the mask, not much is in here. Though, you do notice a few shoes and high heels, but nothing else. You close the door behind you, not giving that mask another look, and return to sit on the bed to think and ponder. Though, in retrospect, you suppose you're relieved to see the mask there.

Unless the psycho has another somewhere in the house or decided to go out to kill without it, she, hopefully, isn't out killing again. At least, not today. You sit on the bed and wrap yourself in a cover to fight off the chill of the AC as you try to think of what to do. You look at the dresser and wonder about pinning it against the door, recalling that it opens inward and not outward. However, you're quick to shoot down the idea. It would in no way help you and would do nothing but piss her off, and most likely, lead to your death or injury. 

You really wish that you had found something useful like a hammer to beat into the door with, or even her if you get the jump on her once she returns. You briefly ponder about weapons, recalling the high heels in the closet, but dismiss the idea of using such a thing to attack her with due to the thickness of the heels. Your mind returns to the nail file, considering the idea of sharpening it into a makeshift shank. However, concerning the material and its broad shape, you wouldn't get anywhere with it. Suddenly, a realization hits you. 

You go back to the bathroom and look through the dressers, where you eventually discover her toothbrush. It's a very simplistic, colorful plastic toothbrush with a square end. With that in hand, you go back to the clothes drawer and fish out the nail file. You very well remember various prison movies and documentaries where mundane objects were prepped into becoming a weapon. Mundane objects like a toothbrush. You glance back at the clock, its time reading 4:42 PM. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, you start scraping rapidly at the handle end of the toothbrush. Through vigorous rubbing, you're very gradually making progress by cutting down the plastic. You wear down at the rectangular edges of the toothbrush, making sure to slowly grind the plastic down so that it comes to an eventual point. You glance back up at the clock. Already the time reads 5:01 PM and you're close to the sharp point you desire from your weapon. A faint hope begins to blossom as you plan out your now possible escape. 

You look to the locked door and the walls beside it. You decide to position yourself beside the spot where the door touches the wall, providing you a blind spot. You doubt you would be able to aim because of how fast you'll have to be, but with luck you may be able to strike her somewhere where it can really hurt. At least somewhere to give you enough time to start running again. You feel especially ready, now knowing that your best course of action would be to run towards the kitchen and search for a path out. 

As you wait, you continue to shave at your shiv, until eventually, your shank is ready. You test it by pressing the tip against your skin, drawing a thin prick of blood as you lightly press it down. You consider that with enough force it would serve its purpose fine. Now all there was to do was wait. You keep yourself close to the locked door, your back pressing against the wall with your shiv ready. 

You try to listen out, patiently waiting for a sound to notify you of her return. Footsteps, doors closing, anything. You glance to the clock every so often as time slowly passes by. 

5:24 PM. 

5:41 PM. 

6:03 PM. 

Your mind drifts back to your family as you wait, hoping that your gambit will play out and you'll see them again. You then wonder about your home. How would you return to a normal life after this? Would you move back with your family out of fear of this happening again? Worse, would it happen again? You push these thoughts aside, returning your focus to the silence of the house. 

Each creak, groan, and slight noise of the house causes you to jump and contemplate if it was another natural sound of the house or the distant return of your captor. Each time you quietly stand and wait with your ear pressed to the door, only returning to sit on the bed after several minutes of silence. You can feel your arms and legs shake slightly as you wait, the promise of freedom and safety now possibly within your grasp again. Your heartbeat picks up a frantic pace, which you try and take the time to slowly breathe and calm yourself. It proved pointless as you hear a different sound clearly ring out through the house: the sound of a door opening and closing. 

You jump to your feet and take your position beside the wall-mounted doorstop. You press your back against the wall and hold your arm back in ready, watching the door as you wait. You can hear smaller, more distant sounds as you wait, just barely discernible past your thunderous heartbeat. Soft thumps of footsteps against carpet ring out through the silent house, slowly and surely getting louder as you wait. Your heart feels ready to break free from your chest from how anxious you are. 

Her footsteps continue to get louder and louder as you patiently wait, the silence making it roar into your ears and mix with your beating heart to become a cacophony of deafening noise. It all comes to a peak when you finally hear the click of a lock being unlocked in the door, piercing through the noise like a bullet. You press yourself back against the wall and hold your breath, silently waiting for her to appear. An uneasy silence replaces what was previously a maddening collection of slight sounds, not hearing another sound after the click of the door. Not even the sound of the handle being twisted or footsteps leaving you be. 

Your eyes gaze at the door as you wait for it to open. Your muscles feel tense as you wait to strike out at her with your weapon. Your thoughts dead silent as you focus on ending this nightmare. Finally, you hear the sound of metal clacking as the handle turns before the door is finally pushed open. You stay focused on the space ahead, waiting for her to step forward and have her back to you. You take as small and as quiet of breaths that you can manage, the uneasiness in your body forcing you into a barely restrained shake as you wait for her to walk through the door.

...

Except she doesn't come.

You keep your weapon raised in anticipation, but she never walks forward. Does she know? Is she still there? You can't hear a thing and you wouldn't dare move to check. Everything feels horribly wrong. The suspense quickly gets to you, breaking your calm and forcing you to take a louder breath than you intended.

You didn't even get the chance to scream as she rushes around the door. Her hand shoots out and pins your armed hand to the wall and the other closes around your throat. You croak out as air leaves you and your legs nearly buckle beneath you, but her grasp around your neck keeps you up. As you desperately try to strike out with your weapon, her grip tightens around your arm until you feel the prick of her dull claws stabbing into your skin. You then try to reach for your shiv with your other free hand, but she quickly slams your head against the wall and sends you into a daze. With her choking you, you couldn't even force out a scream as she repeatedly smashes your head against the wall. 

Eventually, you release the makeshift weapon, leaving you completely defenseless. Soon, from the combined efforts of the strikes to your head and her choking you, you quickly lose consciousness. You soon reawaken in the now-familiar closet, realizing your location despite having no light to see. You can feel the coarse texture of rope around your legs and arms once again. Intense pain in the back of your head flares up, prompting you to groan, only to discover that you are once again gagged. Worse, you now realize that you're no closer to freedom. 

Your plan was a complete failure. You weren't even able to use your "weapon". She might even be more careful in keeping you locked and under control now. And now your thoughts of never seeing the outside world and your parents return in force, much like your tears. But now, in the dark isolation of the closet, you felt no need to hold back your pitiful sobbing. You doubt you would be able to stop yourself regardless.

---

It has been at least a week. 

A week you've been trapped in this hellhole. 

You're only able to tell the time through the alarm clock in her bedroom, and the day by the odd moment where she forces you to watch television with her. The news allows you the briefest of glimpses into the outside world, though it's been a while since you've been forced to watch it with her. You believe today is a Friday, but whatever day it might be wouldn't matter. You're still trapped here with her. She may not have killed you for your attempt on her life, but that doesn't dispel your fears about what she could do to you for trying something like that again.

After your punishment, she was quick to repeat what she had done before. Force you to bathe with her, eat with her, sleep with her; so on. All the while, she continues to feel you up with her probing hands over every inch of your naked body that she refuses to clothe. Perhaps worse than the disgusting degradation, sleep has become a fleeting resource each night she keeps you pressed against her. You've frequently found yourself trying to catch back up on hours lost sleeping when she leaves, though knowing you're still trapped in a psychopath's home makes it a struggle to rest. 

After your initial "freedom" from the closet and isolation in the bedroom for the second time, you tried to look once again for anything of use. However, not a single item nor tool that could possibly help you was found. Only the most harmless of items remained in the bedroom and bathroom, none of which you could use to assist in your escape. For several days, you were left in a furious, depressive state of mind knowing you've blown what may be your one and only chance of freedom away. For a few days, you furiously pounded away and screamed at the locked door. You frequently threw your weight and body into it when you were too tired from kicking it, but only succeed in bruising yourself than make any real progress. 

Each and every time you tried, she would always return and unlock the door sometime later, revealing not a single crack of progress in the door or the frame. From then on to now, you feel near emotionally dead inside. All of the pokings, squeezing, and sniffing of hers no longer provokes the strong reaction of disgust and buildup of bile in your body, though you've thankfully yet to be so unresponsive as to find it acceptable. At the absolute very least, you still feel sane knowing as much as that. Now, it's merely a part of the day each time she wakes up and returns. 

Each day she gropes you, walks you or carries you to where she wants to go, gives you food or feeds you like a doting lover, brings you to bed to sleep beside her, wakes up, locks you in her bedroom, returns, and rinse and repeat. Though your optimism towards escaping has dwindled rapidly, a silver lining you've come to appreciate is that you haven't heard of any further murders from the news. Or rather, murders that line up with her method of murder. Besides, you have yet to find that disgusting mask of hers missing, so perhaps she has stopped... for now. It still doesn't relieve the ever-present knot in your stomach, but her butchering innocent people is no longer something you worry about whenever she leaves. 

Although with each passing hour you stay locked in the same room, you sometimes hope that she would continue to risk her murderous streak, with or without a mask. Maybe from thereon, she would be caught for a reckless mistake, which would then lead to a raid of her home and your rescue. Regardless, you've yet to garner any faith in your timely rescue as each day your thoughts are plagued with questions on just how long you'll be trapped. You could continue to hold out through this for longer, perhaps for even a month, but the recurring thought of you never being found only twists the metaphorical knife in your gut further. All of your meager accomplishments in life are all made pointless to the idea of living a forever repeating life of debauchery to a once-serial killer lagomorph like a slave. 

Before you could continue your retrospection of the horrible situation you've tried so hard to escape, the distant sound of a door closing shakes you out of your thoughts. Not soon after, the door to the bedroom unlocks, the sound clicking through the room like the sound of a bullet in a cave. The rabbit soon enters to silently greet you with her ever vague, silent expression. Just as before, she enters the room and begins to undress, removing her suit jacket, button-up shirt, skirt, and high heels until she's down to her undershirt and panties. Without another word, she grabs onto your hand and leads you to the kitchen. 

You notice a fast-food bag with two paper cups beside it as she leads you to your seat. After she sits into hers, she fishes out wrapped meals from the bag and places two in front of you. You still find it hard to eat in her presence, but you force yourself to finish your meal rather than have her force-feed you. As you eat into your plain burger, you see the rabbit take something else out of the bag which you can vaguely tell as a cup of yogurt with fruit inside. Disregarding it as something for herself as she pops the top off, you return to slowly consuming your meal. Eventually, you finish your meal in silence, almost considering putting the wrappers into the bag for disposal until you realize such politeness being wasted on the psychopath. 

You want to leave for the bed to resume your torturous slog of trying to sleep through her touch, but you know you have to wait for her to lead you back. Before you could look to her to see what the holdup was, as she would normally finish before you would, she places the yogurt cup between you and her. She silently dips the spoon into the yogurt and reaches out to you. Her feeding you still disturbs you, but you avoid objecting or resisting as to get it all over with. The first spoonful of yogurt is placed into your mouth along with a few berries, then taken out to retrieve another scoop from the yogurt. It wasn't the first spoon that confused you, rather it was the second. 

As you swallow the yogurt, you briefly feel something hard pass down your throat. Its taste was obscured and you couldn't tell what it was, other than it was harder than a berry. Before you could voice your concern, another spoonful is deposited in your mouth. Still normal, but the next spoonful you once again feel a hard item pass down your throat, this time briefly catching the taste of the mystery item before it disappears. It was something terribly bitter, which only confuses you further. The rest of the yogurt is eventually fed to you until nothing is left, thankfully without any strange taste or feel to it. 

The rabbit quietly cleans the dinner table before leading you away from the kitchen, this time bringing you to the living room. A discarded cover lays on the couch, which she drapes over you and herself. She forces you to sit close beside her, your head placed to rest just under hers. She lays the bottom of her chin against the top of your head, where you can hear her sigh out in what you assume is satisfaction. As your body involuntarily shivers at the assumed contentment of your captive, the rabbit grabs the remote beside her and turns on the TV. 

Different channels pass by until she eventually settles on one featuring a movie. You're unsure what it is and can't build up the urge to develop an interest in watching it. Instead, you focus your attention on the corner of the room to try and make time pass you by. However, after an indeterminate amount of time, you feel her hand snake under the covers to your legs and begin stroking your inner thigh. Her fuzzy fingers slowly find their way to your sensitive testicles and begin to gently fondle them. 

Somehow, you've begun to build up some further form of disinterest through the passing days to her touch as she constantly and consistently fondles your privates. But something feels off. Blood rushes into your member, quickly extending it to about a half chub to her touch and poke at her fondling fingers, to which she notices. Her fingers abandon your balls and begin stroking at your penis, causing it to quickly erect and pitch a tent under the loose blanket. A deep dread weighs down on your chest as your member rises at a speed much, much faster than normal. 

Something was terribly wrong. 

She stops her touch and stands up, startling you at her sudden movement. She then grabs your hand and swiftly pulls you up and drags you to the bedroom. Your feeling of heavy unease only grows with each step you're forced to take deeper and deeper into her den. She closes the door behind you and pushes you to the bed, forcing you to sit on the end. A chill runs through your body as you sit there showing your erect dick standing tall to the monster in the room. Without a word, she starts to take off the undershirt, revealing a simple bra underneath that she then begins to unlatch. 

In her undressing, you see a hint of actual emotion in her face. Her eyes are focusing on you, though instead of her emotionless, open eyes, they're smaller in size in a slight squint. Paired with that was her mouth in a similar slight change making a faint smile. A smile you can very easily recognize that of interest. Of wanting. Of lust. 

You quickly begin to realize why your member was so quick to rise as you recall the bitter flavor hidden in the yogurt. She has drugged you. The dread within you multiplies tenfold as you decipher her intent, quickly reverting your state to that of when she discarded your underwear days ago. Adrenaline begins to take over as you fearfully cry out a panicked mix of "please" and "no"s, to which she pays no heed to. She discards the final piece of clothing, showing her fully nude body in the dim light and begins to close the distance step by step. 

Fear overtaking your logic, you crawl back into the bed away from her while continuing your spew of maddening begging. She only responds with continued silence until she finally reaches the bed and begins to crawl towards you on her hands and knees. Your head hits the wood of the headboard, forcing you to a halt and allowing the rabbit to easily catch up to you and grip your leg. She then drags you towards her, prompting you to scream out. Before you could try clawing for the side of the bed or attempt to blindly attack her, her hands release your legs and grips your arms. She presses them against the bed to keep them still, using her brute strength to prevent you from moving. 

You keep pleading for her to stop, hoping that in your frenzied yelling that she would eventually find mercy and stop her assault. Such a blessing never comes to pass as she lowers herself down onto your shaft. Your pleas are stopped by your involuntarily moan as your penis is taken into her tight, burning hot folds. You try to breathe and recollect your thoughts, panic still forcing your mind to cry out to help. 

To cry out for anyone to help. 

But you know that no one would be able to hear.

Your heartbeat and breath quicken as you see her face looming over yours, almost frozen in that expression you saw before. Before you could try once again to yell out, she begins to rise. She then quickly descends back onto your penis. Steadily, but surely, she begins to pick up speed. Your outcries are cut short by sharp breathes in and out as she continues to mercilessly pound her hips against yours. All the while, she continues to stare at you with that damned, unchanging expression; almost as if she's wearing the fake, plastic mask hidden away in her bathroom closet. 

That ill feeling of nausea you had felt before with her groping and fondling seemed now a distant, pleasant memory in comparison to the pure repulsion you feel now as the rabbit continues thrusting herself upon your penis. Each and every movement she makes sends waves of conflicting emotions into your body. Naturally, you feel some physical pleasure from her actions, though your hatred of feeling such clashes with it like a tsunami. You begin desperately writhing out against her. Not out of pleasure, but of desperation. 

She never once slows or stops in her speed, nor does her expression change as she holds you down against the bed. Like a machine, she lifts and falls down upon you with stamina well befitting of her muscular stature. Her breasts bounce up and down in repeated motion as she moves against you, though what would normally be an enticing sight only prompts further abhorrence to well up within you. You try kicking out your legs or shoving your body side to side, but it is all to no effect. Through desperate gasps of air you scream out wordlessly, but she never stops. She doesn't so much as even show a flicker of sympathy in her unsettling expression.

You try anything you can think of, but nothing seemed to matter. Her relentless movements start to take their toll on you. Despite screaming and crying out against every single step of the way, you begin to feel a pressure welling up within your groin. Unable to hold it back, you sharply exhale as you come to ejaculate within her, sending spurts of semen into her searing, tight vagina. Somehow sensing this, her movements come to a slow, finally stopping as your orgasm comes to an end. One hand that was pinning your arm down leaves your side and rubs over the fur of her pelvis and lower abs. 

Every ounce of strength you had was drained, and your panicked mind begins to remember the futility and results of such futile resistance. As you catch your breath, you begin to loathe the scene before you. You, breathless, sweating, and riding off the highs of a raped orgasm. All the while the female you had such a disgusting act with looks down at you with what appears to be caring eyes and a smile of a lover. All on your first time. 

It was something you wanted to share with someone you loved as an intimate moment. Someone you truly cared for. Yet such a dream was crushed and tainted by your kidnapper and now rapist. You start to feel tears well up in your eyes as she continues staring down at you, and you eventually catch your breath to finally speak. 

"Why? Why are you doing this?" you ask, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks and onto the bed. You fully expect more silence from the rabbit, but your blood quickly turns even colder as she lowers her head closer to yours, and for the first time, speak. 

"Because I love you." 

All heat in your body leaves as she says these four words to you. 

You try to think of what to say. What to ask. What to beg. What to demand. 

But your mind fails to form any words in your mouth. 

She raises her head back up and looks down at your groin, your member still fully enveloped by her sex and erect from the drugs you were fed. She begins to rise up. But before you could find relief in her freeing you, a gasp is forced out of you as she slams herself back down upon you. Within moments, she starts to resume her depraved tempo. She wasn't done with you, you realize. Though when exactly she would be you stopped assuming after hours of forced ejaculation after ejaculation into her body before you eventually blackout from exhaustion.



Pain is the first sensation you feel as you awake. Dehydration was the second. Finally, fatigue is the third. What is the most awful of the three sensations however was that it became as familiar to you as the pent up feelings of disgust that you have continued to experience from the very first day. You lay awake in her bed, your body unable to move, let alone twitch. Covers and pillows are strewn madly about as evidence of last night's debauchery with stains all around and under you on the sheets. 

Your entire body is a gallery of bruises, sores, and abuse. Your hips feel like heavy, burning lead, and your groin a constant, throbbing reminder of the pain you feel throughout the past few days. Time became a blur as you were barely able to stay lucid after the third night. You weren't sure how long it's been. Perhaps it was your mind desperate to make you forget the terrible things you've experienced to try to keep your sane. But with each night you expect some form of mercy and rest, she quickly replaces that wishful night with another of horror. 

Your only relief was in the day time which grants you a moment of rest before night, whereupon your experience would begin anew. Each time she would return, she would force-feed you a few pills and then lead you to bed to continue her depravity until late in the night. Each time it would all end when you finally feel her folds tighten painfully around your member and the rush of hot fluid begin to run down and then drip at your skin, where the beast would then finally rest and give you and your body relief. You can barely take in your surroundings as you lay upon the bed, barely able to move an inch from your filthy spot. However, you can see a sliver of light come in from the closed bathroom door. 

You try to ignore it and look away, hoping your exhaustion forces you back into sleep, but the room is soon bathed with light as the door opens. You see the rabbit standing in the doorway holding something. Though most of her features are hidden away by shadow, you can very clearly see the unnervingly happy expression on her face. Unease and fear settling back into you, she walks towards you with the item in hand while still carrying that appalling face of joy. She lays the item against your chest, to which you can barely lift your hand to see what exactly it is. 

After a few seconds of failing to examine it, she picks up the item and holds it in front of you. From the light coming in from the bathroom, you can see that it is a long, thin white plastic thing with a cap on the end and in the center a small plastic screen. You squint to try and see what it is, but your fatigue coupled with the poor lighting makes it difficult to analyze. She shifts a bit to the side, allowing a small bit of light to reveal the item in more detail alongside the small screen. Your heart immediately sinks as you then recognize the plastic item: a pregnancy test. 

Your eyes dart to the plastic screen. Two lines. This information paired with her ecstatic reaction is making it hard for you to breathe. Seemingly happy that you've seen it, she walks back towards the bathroom before jumping up into the air and shaking her head and naked body in an erratic fashion, all while still sporting that gleeful smile. What is a joyful accomplishment to her is a fearful realization for you. 

You're going to be a father. 

A father to the child, or worse, children of the rapist rabbit.

---

Several weeks have passed. It may have been at least a month; possibly one and a half at this point. You're still recovering from the painful injuries and following debilitating haze from her horrifyingly described "acts of love". On top of that, you're still left in a state of shock from her reveal on that one night why she has done such disgusting things to you. But despite now knowing, her reasons are still as confusing and vague as before. Even now you're still unsure if she's keeping you hostage to kill you, solely to toy with you for her own perverse pleasure, or both. 

After she revealed why she holds such a sick fascination with you, she hasn't spoken a word since. All communications from her have been silent, not even muttering so much as a mumble beneath her breath. The only thing she ever expresses is her unnerving, satisfied smile whenever she locks eyes with yours. Despite this, it wasn't part of your main concern, that which only settles back into your mind after you finally manage to regain your strength. Though the constant fear of never being found again still haunts you day in and day out, a new, more powerful horror creeps into your mind to cause unbridled panic and despair: her pregnancy. 

She's pregnant with your child after a week straight of rape, the evidence obvious through the tester and soon enough the violent vomiting in the bathrooms throughout the day and night right. At first, you feel some pleasure in seeing her misery in hacking her guts out into the toilet late at night, but the shine of an opportunity makes itself known to you. She is fully preoccupied with her head hanging over the bowl. As quietly as you can, you crawl to the opposite side of the bed away from the light of the bathroom door and gently try to get off. However, the creak of the frame rings out as you step one foot onto the carpeted floor, causing you to freeze and look expectedly at the bathroom door for her to be there. 

You wait in silence for a minute, only releasing the breath you have been holding back as you hear the continued sounds of retching from the bathroom. With your footsteps muffled by the carpet, you creep across the bedroom to the closed door and once again wait. You know just how acute her hearing is, even in her current state. If she was able to tell you were waiting in ambush behind the closet door, then she would undoubtedly hear the click of the door no matter how slowly you turn it. At least, not unless another sound were to muffle it. With your hand resting on the handle, you wait with bated breath for your opportunity.

Eventually, her retching loudly echoes from the bathroom, and you begin turning the handle open as delicately as possible. But even though the sound of the door handle turning was completely silent to you, you suddenly hear her bare feet stomp against the tiled floor before she forces the bathroom door open. You don't even bother to run, even if you could somehow force your frozen muscles to move after seeing her emerge. Her face is twisted into a stern scowl, another emotion to add to the handful of times you've seen something resembling cognitive thought to this seemingly soulless creature. Remnants of tonight's dinner stain the fur of her chin and chest as it trickles out of her mouth. She glares at you as she quietly approaches you and grips your wrist tightly, almost to the point of making you fear something may break. 

She then drags you into the bathroom with her, closes the door and turns the lock shut. With you now trapped in the bathroom with her, she returns back to the toilet and resumes emptying her guts. Several days later, you try to escape again, though this time you avoid the subterfuge and simply hope to outrun her in her unwell state. However, you aren't sure it slowed her in the slightest, as she caught you before you could even get halfway to the kitchen. If she was holding back her anger the previous times you've attempted to escape, then she shows no effort to do so now as she forces you back into the bedroom with an iron grip. Her claws puncture the skin of your wrist, leaving wounds in your forearm alongside trace amounts of whatever substance that crawled its way back up her throat on your skin.
 
You can only hope that the farthest she will go regarding anger are the wounds you received from your last escape attempt. The threat of broken bones or more grievous injures seems more likely to occur now than ever before if not the possibility of death. She is already a bomb waiting to be triggered, and you would be damned to see to what extent she would go during a bad mood swing. This fear fails to leave you, even as she becomes more "affectionate" as time further passes. She still continues her routine of dressing into her suit and other attire, leaving you locked away in her bedroom, and then finally returning some time late in the day.

Randomly, she would return, open the door, and then immediately begin embracing you into a close hug. She would then deeply sniff your hair and begin rubbing the bottom of her chin on the top of your head. Just as before, even if you saw a point in struggling, you fail to receive the ability to as she tightly clings to you. Her return continues on in the usual pattern: kitchen, food, then either to the couch to sit together or immediately to bed. A few occasions she begins puking her freshly eaten meal beside you into a trash can or dragging you away to the bathroom to keep you close by as she does her business. During the moments where she becomes overly "loving", she will sit you onto her lap on the couch and hold you close to her chest or spoon you while in bed. 

It's all made worse as she would then rub her hands around your body, all while with that smile she had that night. Each time you see it you can feel your whole body shiver. It's surprising to you, seeing as how it's only when you see her looking down at you that you feel this, as her touch doesn't provoke the slightest reaction from you anymore. You want to feel horrified at being conditioned to be accepting of this, but it was nothing comparing what you feel now to what you felt during and after those long nights. It would be like comparing the feeling of stepping on a tack to being stabbed between the ribs with a knife before it's twisted. 

Through the days, her mood switches from "approachable", for the lack of any better term, and surly often. Regardless, it fails to switch up the monotonous pattern you were stuck in. What little hope you have left of escaping feel like unsalvageable scraps now. A full month has passed and from what little you see on TV, there have been no breakthroughs regarding the rabbit nor you being missing. Were you so forgettable that the moment you disappeared no one would tell? 

You try to break away these depressive thoughts, remembering that she did break inside of your own home and that someone must have noticed. But even then, if they took so long to find you now, what's to say they would ever find you? If you can't escape, then what's to say you are ever leaving this house? These thoughts ring through your head day after day, night after night, and soon week after week as you rot away in this psycho's home. It's now obvious to you: you need to escape. You need to get out yourself, or else you will never see your family nor the outside world ever again. 

You just don't know how. 

Her strength and speed still outmatch yours, and her hearing will reveal any covert actions you may attempt. Perhaps it's a when, but that you don't know either. For hours, you would simply think: When and how. 

When and how. 

When and how. 

When. 

How. 

When. 

How. 

When. 

How.
 
When.
 
And.
 
How.
 
It's only late at night, some several months later, that you finally saw when and more importantly, how. You didn't know why you hadn't realized it before. It was a glaring weakness past her speed, her ears, and even her muscles. This whole time it has been on your mind, yet now you see your ticket to escape: her pregnancy. The swell of her belly as she lays asleep beside you, rising in the air with each breath she takes.

Through time, her pregnancy has continued onward. First through a slight swell of her abs, then eventually to the unmistakable bulge of pregnancy. It has naturally only continued to grow to the round swell it has become now. Her vomiting had disappeared some time ago, as well as her previous random periods of anger. However, her insistence of close contact has only increased as time went on, especially as the children made their presence known in slight kicks and movements. You still feel disgusted at knowing that it's multiple.

Often times when the rabbit forces you to feel and rub at her belly, you can tell from the multiple bumps and kicks that there was no doubt more than one baby inside of her womb. The thought of her bringing forth your children gives you the returning feeling of illness deep in your stomach. The thought of you raising them alongside her only makes it worse. You want to push yourself away from her and her spawn, but she, as before, forces you to remain close. Her pregnancy only continues to bring emotions out of the disgusting killer, as her smile reaches ear to ear as she forces your hands to her belly and chest. Each time she forces your hands to her body, she would make a strange noise. 

The sound of teeth clicking, which you can only assume was some sign of pleasure to your touch to her sensitive body. To make matters further unpleasant, her unnerving smile which promises implications of a return to your raping has been carried through. Recently, she has once again begun force-feeding you pills before using you to sate her immoral, hormone-induced desires. Her pregnancy creates even more of an uncomfortable weight and pain upon your body as she takes her time using you. Thankfully, her unending source of stamina and energy is severely capped, cutting her sex craze short as she collapses off of you an hour later. With what little strength she has left, she would draw you as close as she can to herself, then fall asleep. 

Now, you realized, as she rests peacefully in bed after such a night, was when you could escape. The last matter was how. With her pregnant belly in the way and her lack of stamina, her hold is significantly less tight on you. It's finally now much easier to free yourself from her grasp. Through slowly worming your way out of her loose arms and keeping watch for any reaction, you eventually manage to free yourself. Thankfully, her eyes remain closed and she remains completely asleep. 

Your eyes look to the closed door for a moment, but you know that the moment the click rings out from the door handle bolt that she would be upon you in an instant. You needed to slow her down. To injure her. And what better way than by striking the most sensitive part stretching out from her body? It's a bullseye. A key to freedom. 

All it needs is one hard hit. 

You briefly consider your foot, thinking perhaps one well-placed kick would achieve desirable results. Your gaze shifts to the small nightstand beside the bed. That would guarantee serious damage. You inch your way out to the side of the bed, carefully watching her for a reaction as your feet finally reach the soft floors. With one last movement, you successfully free yourself and feel relief to find her still asleep. 

You look back to the nightstand and carefully place the alarm clock onto the ground. You experimentally shift the nightstand slightly to the side, confirming that it can be lifted with relative ease. All you have left to do was pick it up and smash it against her. You lift the furniture up, using the legs as the handle for your makeshift weapon. You eye the sleeping monster and the spawn she carries. You attempt to hold the nightstand back, readying yourself to smash it down upon her, and finally escape.

... But your arms fail to move.

Your hold on the nightstand becomes unwieldy as it threatens to fall from your grasp. The air suddenly becomes harder to reach your lungs as you greedily breathe in and out in a barely restrained shudder. All the while, a sudden, cold feeling courses through you as you reconsider this last step. Striking her would no doubt injure her greatly, perhaps even kill her were you so fortunate. It would finally grant you the freedom you so desperately craved for more than half a year now... but all at the cost of her children. 

No, YOUR children.

The nightstand becomes too heavy to hold and you nearly let it drop from your hands in a loud clatter. You gingerly lower the nightstand back into place before sitting collapsed beside the bed. Each one of them would die by your hand tonight with a well-placed blow. Your body shakes as two warring thoughts scream through your tired, aching mind: strike her now and kill your children... or don't. Each second a new reason to support either decision tears through your mind. 

They are your children. 

They are the children of a rapist. 

What life have they to live in her care? 

Would it be worth the risk to kill them on that thought? To let them live on that thought? 

You would be no better than her if you killed them. 

Killing them is what anyone would do, as all that matters is escaping. 

Tears well up in your eyes as you stare at the beast sleeping in bed, finally breaking down as you fail to find the courage to carry through with your decision. You can't do it. You can't force yourself to do it. Mentally you shriek out at how cowardly you were as you climb back into bed with tears streaking down your face. You can't find the nerve to kill your unborn children, even with their horrific mother, and for damning your chances of escape. You can't do it, even with your desperation to finally be free. 

And now you may never escape. 

But... One last thought comes to you, calming the thoughts tormenting you. 

Perhaps escape was still possible. There was still one more attempt. One last-ditch effort. You feel uncertain you would be so lucky, but it may be the last chance you'll ever get. Your shaking body soon comes to a still. Your breath calms. You feel... at peace, with the inkling of an idea that you have to wait for. And for the first time in the longest time, you've got a calm night of sleep as you rest beside the expecting beast.

---
 
As it always has been, time flows on like a raging river, beating you senseless with each turn and current. It's been nine months, or close to by your rough guess. Your forced schedule changed during the last few months, as she is now around for MUCH longer to torment you with whatever sick desire she forces you to indulge in. Whatever previously kept her away no longer holds sway on her time, as she no longer wakes up to the ring of the alarm in the morning nor leaves you during what you assume to be the weekday. Regardless of the continued amount of time she spends with you, the only other thing that has changed was her. 

The form and definition of her muscles are now hidden behind a softer layer built up from the pregnancy, almost making her seem non-threatening. More noticeable however was a layer of thick, plush hair growing around her neck, which you later discovered to be a layer of fat after she forced you to run your hands through the fur of her body. Some part of you hopes it harms her in some way, but that's just spiteful wishful thinking. The children within her continue to be active throughout the day and night, to which she always makes sure you are aware of as she forcefully presses your hands against herself. You still feel a hint of regret for not ending this sooner, but the thought of killing them disgusts you more than every depraved act you've been subjected to in this house.

You've begun to notice with each passing week her strained expression as she lifts herself up from her bed or couch. There is a decrease in speed as she walks you room to room, and a slight grunt you hear every so often; most likely from a shift or movement of the little buns. Her strength has carried her so far, but now it's begun to show its limit as their time comes close. Of course, you considered fleeing as these signs began to show, but you did not want to risk your gambit with an unfortunate, early move. 

One thing that worried you was her catching you regardless of her handicap, which plays into your next fear: her locking you away again. For your plan to work, you need relative freedom, and for that, you have to play along. Much to your dismay, you need to appear as if you had no desire to escape. No need to ever see the outside world again. Just a need to be with her. 

You hate every facet of the thought, but you have to do it. Slowly, you force yourself to "warm up" to her. You initially start off small. First, you began to lose hesitation or contempt shown towards her, at least physically. Instead of waiting for her to force you into what she wants you to do, you approach her of your own volition. You hold her hand, rest yourself against her shoulder, rub her pregnant belly, and sift your hand through the fur of her body. 

Even now she seems surprised when you willingly approach her. As you continue showing her affection, she starts to give an excited smile that you only saw from her during that night she showed the tester. As you continue your facade, she begins to stop forcefully making you do as she pleases. She instead gives you a sort of expectant look or nudges you with her hand, smiling all the while you give her attention. It was only a few days through this faux love that she does something different in reaction: she kisses you. Her lips purse and connect with yours while you were sitting close to her on the couch.  

You hated yourself at that instant for almost liking it, fully welcoming a much gentler show of affection as opposed to how she initially showed "love". However, the thought was quickly replaced with that of loathing as then takes a metaphorical extra step and shoves her tongue inside your mouth. You fight against every urge you have to gag or back away, barely managing to stay your ground and accept her advances. Her eyes close as she explores your mouth with her tongue, occasionally wrangling with your own. Her touch is rough and speed is quick, but somehow, you can tell she's holding herself back. 

She continues for the better part of a minute, taking the briefest of moments for the both of you to catch your breath before finally ceasing. Her eyes meet yours in excitement, her pace of breath matching your own. She has a passionate smile, one that you are sure would warm your heart if wasn't from this horrible woman. She brings her hand to your back and brings you close to her in a hug, resting her head on top of yours with her dewlap cushioning her chin, all while no doubt still keeping that happy smile. 

Her hold is gentle, not forcing you into her like so many times before. You can feel her heartbeat thrum through her chest and vibrate into your body. Her stomach lurches slightly against you, most likely one of the unborn children moving, to which she grunts in response. Despite the breach into your mouth, that horrible feeling crawls its way back into your mind as she just quietly holds you there.

It feels... nice.

You can actively feel the tension in your muscles easing up. The burning you feel in your stomach and chest starts to lighten. While your mind is still filled with reminders of just who exactly this monster is, one niggling thought pushes its way past the onslaught of horrible memories. Just a what-if. A simple thought about if things were different, perhaps you would care for this woman. Maybe you would love her.

After several more moments, she gently releases you, her smile still present. She struggles to come to a stand, though after some effort eventually succeeds. After she gains her footing, she extends her hand down to you, which surprises you. Before she would always grab your hand and yank you away, making sure you always stayed close. But now, she seems to give you an option. Or perhaps, just the illusion of one.

You reach up and grip her hand. Slowly, she lifts you up and maintains a leisurely pace out of the living room to the bedroom with you in tow, keeping a loose grip on your hand as she leads you. After finally reaching her bedroom, she releases her hand and gently lays herself down onto the bed and looks expectedly at you. Still wanting to keep up the air of acceptance, you follow her into bed and situate yourself beside her. Like so many nights before, she draws you close, but now with a different expression and method. 

She leads you to her rather than force you, her hands only gently pressing against your body than shoving you where she wants you to be. She brings you close and gives a quick peck to your lips, smiling in a manner that you can only describe as... warming. Her eyes close as she holds you close, but her arms only loosely drape around you and her hands rest close to the small of your back. Then, gradually, she falls asleep. All without her relentlessly raping you or unconsciously groping you. 

Resting next to her almost feels nice. Of course, you remind yourself that anything after such actions would feel nice, outside of torture or death. You're quick to remember who you rest beside and shake any thoughts of pleasantries of her from your mind. Despite warning yourself, you keep going back to the warmth and comfort she gives in return of your "consent". The way she gently grabs your hand, or how her expressions have shown true emotion with warmth exuding from her gentle smile and eyes, or how she ever so gingerly holds you close and leads your hand to the slight bumps and shifts of the restless children inside of her. 

What once felt sickening became standard. Boring. Everyday. But now it's become... inviting. You feel your guard lowering, the tension across your body lessening with each cautious breath.

The thoughts continue to linger as the days go on. She keeps leaving windows of opportunity open as she stays beside you. Frequently, she would leave your side. Once, ever so briefly, to fetch a cover from the closet, leaving her back to you. Another, to get food for herself and her children. The most egregious one of all though was when she left your side to go to the bathroom.

You were initially confused by her prolonged absence that day as she abandoned you on the couch. The bathroom was so far away that you could just barely hear the sounds of her vomiting into the toilet. You look out the room through the door she left through for the bathroom, then back behind you to the rooms you've yet to see. You could feel your body violently shuddering at the ripe opportunity presented to you. It was almost as if your body was screaming out to you to not hesitate, that there would be no way she could possibly hear or maybe even catch you.

You wanted to thump your foot against the floor to dispel your anxiety, but you were afraid that it would draw her attention. Despite every instinct in your body screaming out at you to run, you stayed still. You recline back into the sofa and quietly check your breathing to attempt to calm your beating heart. Were there a clock in the room you would know how long it took, but it felt like an hour before she finally returned.

Before she sat down to rejoin you, you saw her eyebrow twitch ever so slightly. Was she surprised? Amused? You couldn't tell then and you can't tell now. The rest of the day continued on quietly, and even up to now she still presents ample opportunity to attempt an escape. But a part of you keeps refocusing on that niggling thought: What if you didn't try to escape?

It feels alien to you, almost as if you had left your old life behind to one where laws of nature bent backward to a sickening snap. Captors are now inviting and warm, their touch soothing to the body and mind, and that everything they do for you is out of love and care. You almost want to smack yourself for thinking such insane thoughts, but your thoughts continue to run rampant. Your mind wanders to that of a future of this: her continuing to gently care for you, coming home from wherever she goes to greet you with adoration that you return. Her being with you. Her being with the children who she holds gently in her hands as they tenderly sleep. 

Perhaps she would break the silence and speak once again. Let you know how much you mean to her. How much the children mean to her. How happy she is to have you. As you fantasize, the pleasant thoughts shatter like a brick through a window as you realize something: your old life. 

You quickly reconsider the torment she put you through, so horrendous to the point that you find yourself nearly flocking to the promises of a new life after forcefully leaving behind your old one. One with her. Memories of her sins and past deeds flood back, reminding you of why you're stuck in here with her and why you decided to play along in this charade of a romance. There is no love to be given to this woman. She did not deserve any. You steel your nerves and resist the allure of comfort that she brings as skate dangerously across the line by inviting it with your acting. 

Your anticipated day is coming. You just need to be patient.
 
Several more days pass by. You've long since stopped paying attention to exactly how long it's been. You just know that the moment you've been waiting for is soon to arrive. You keep reminding yourself of this day in and day out to endure and continue biding your time. The temptations continue to be there, sometimes even threatening to completely overtake your state of mind. Some days it was all an act, others, you catch yourself almost believing it all.

However, the promises of returning to your home and family outweighed any comfort that you had long since desired for what's now been close to a year. The rabbit continues to treat you far less aggressively than before, but more importantly, appears to have developed a deeper form of trust in you. Sometimes she walks ahead to a room without holding your hand to ensure you would follow behind. She has begun to visit the bathroom more often while leaving you be in the kitchen or living room. Sometimes you question if you really are just waiting for the right moment, or if you're just fooling yourself as you start to care for the sadist rabbit. With your past failures still haunting your mind, you continuously remind yourself to avoid irreparably burning down this bridge of trust with a hasty, uncertain move. 

But eventually, you finally receive your chance that you have been waiting so long for.

The day was coming to an end and she was ready to retire to bed with you, motioning for you to join her. You've been through the motions, following her along and resting into bed. Before you could drift into sleep to wait another day, pain courses through your shoulders as you hear the rabbit uncharacteristically gasp out and grip you tightly. Your eyes, now thankfully adjusted to the darkness of the room, can see her grimacing in pain. Her hands that were gripping your shoulders go to her stomach, trying to find some relief to the pain coursing through her body. You quickly sit up in bed, watching her writhe in agony as rapid movements flutter beneath the surface of her abdomen. 

You feel something on the covers. 

Something wet.

It was finally time. Your chance is here. 

Your body, once frozen in shock, finally returns control to you. Without sparing another moment, you run. You throw open the bedroom door, not taking the chance to look back as you run out towards the kitchen. You dash through the carpeted rooms of the long-familiar household, passing by room after room with adrenaline pumping through your veins. Knowing precisely where to go, you sprint towards the dark kitchen, throwing numerous doors open as you run out. Your mind is plagued with fear that despite her current disadvantage, that she would be right behind you in an instant to tackle you down onto the floor. 

Thankfully, no such feeling of unstoppable force comes in contact as you reach the kitchen. Finally, you are able to traverse towards the other room you could never reach. Like before, you yank the door open and run into unfamiliar territory. The only plan of escape you have is to run towards any door that was on the same direction of wall the kitchen window was. You run through another room until your prayers are finally answered: a sturdy brown door with a peephole in the center and small windows at the very top. 

It's locked with a simple door lock and deadbolt, which you immediately get to work opening. The door lock is naturally the easiest, but the deadbolt refuses to budge despite all of the force you try putting into it. Fear fuels your desperation to escape, especially as you hear thumps echoing past the rooms towards the closed door behind you. You push your weight against the door and turn the deadbolt, finally figuring it out and unlocking it. You pull the door to the outside world open, just in time to hear the closed door behind you slam open. 

You were prepared for one last run, fully expecting her to charge you and bind you like before. You throw open the door, though just as you're about to break into a sprint, you don't hear the stomping of the frenzied rabbit. Instead, it was a quiet, weak voice calling out. 

"Please..." 

You look back. The rabbit stands at the entryway of the door, her back bent with her stomach aimed at the ground. Her arm braces the frame of the door and the other held her middle, her face still contorting in pain. But past it, you can see another emotion you've yet to see from her: sadness. She speaks out once again, her voice being just as frail as before. 

"Don't go... Please..." 

Her breath is labored and stance shaky; whatever energy she spent to reach you has already taken its toll. For the briefest moment, thoughts of helping her flash through your mind. The once niggling thoughts of embracing her fully and living with her now flood your consciousness. More what-ifs and fantastical scenarios. 

But you've already made your mind.

Without another glance, you run out into the open. Your bare feet dig into the small rocks of the pavement of the driveway, the crisp air biting into your naked skin. It was all a stark contrast to the controlled temperature you felt inside. Somehow you've spent so long without clothing and preoccupied with dealing with the horrors inside that you've forgotten up until now you being completely naked. But for freedom, clothes are the least of your concerns, especially when you're still so close to her home. 

The sky is dark, the only light being the moon high above. Down the pavement, you see a white car parked close to the house. While you wish you could escape in such, that would mean going back inside for the keys and dealing with the psycho once more. Around you and the home was a thicket of trees, with the only course out that you see is a dirt path worn into the grass leading out. With the motivation for finally being free and adrenaline coursing through your body, you break into a sprint down the dirt road into the forest. 

Your legs and lungs burn as you run, your body screaming for a break, but your mind yelling the possibility of being caught if such were to happen motivates you to continue. Against your body's desire, you sprint onward down the dirt road. Small stones and sticks painfully dig into your feet as you run down the dark path, adding onto the pain burning through your body. But you push on. You don't know how long you keep running, but you finally find a paved road past the forest, spreading outward to your left and right.

Without any care of which direction, you run down the right side of the road. You continue sprinting down until you finally see signs of life from the headlights of a car coming your way. Against your burning lungs and muscles, you desperately wave your arms and scream out, "HELP! PLEASE, HELP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" 

By some god-given miracle, the driver pulls over to stop the car. You rush to the driver window and beg out, "PLEASE! GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" The driver, a male rat with glasses, looks confused and shocked but unlocks the door. You dive into the back seat and slam the door behind you. Adrenaline finally running dry, you plead for him to drive anywhere but here, and collapse into your seat. As he drives off, you hear him fire off panicked questions, but you fail to find the strength to answer them as consciousness leaves you.



 
The man was able to bring you out away to safety, using his cell phone to call the police after you told him of your kidnapping and raping some time later. You met with the police, were given some clothes, and you detailed the past events of your kidnapping. Every minute detail from being held against your will, raped by a deranged, female rabbit killer, and her pregnancy. To this day, you still feel a twinge of frustration as you recall some of their faces. Sheer disbelief. 

To which part, you're not sure, but some did not believe you. A few spoke to you in a more serious manner, but the others treated you as if you were exaggerating. As much as you wanted to scream, you kept calm and told them everything you could recall, down to the gear she wore the first time you and her "met". Their interest peaked more once you mentioned that church. Apparently, as of yet, the murders have yet to be solved and hearing of the potential murderer finally showing up after a long absence gives them something of worth. More details were taken down; all info that could be given was given. 

Your body was examined for bruises, DNA, and any other traces of info to go on. A police report was filed and you were informed that forces would investigate her home swiftly. Your parents were called. Without worry for the late hour of the night, they sped out to the police station. Relief washed over you as you saw your parents who brought you to a hug. They had indeed assumed you were dead, especially after hearing of the breaking and entering with no sign of you to be found. 

Since then, you've been struggling to shrug off the nightmares of your experience and return to a normal life. Your parents funded therapy sessions, much to your disagreement, but you can't deny that it helped you at least a slight bit. Recommendations were made to visit a rape victim support group, but progress towards that was null. None would accept your presence due to being a man, but you did not feel as distraught as your parents that suggested it. You just want to move far, far past that horrible part of your life until it's nothing but a blip on your memory. 

You were recently contacted by the police regarding the rabbit. An investigation was made on her home, but not a soul was found. Your claims were found true though after discovering two damning pieces of evidence hidden in her home: the human mask and clawed glove with long dried blood caked on the black claws. Both had a layer of dust on it, with the only other evidence found being a small handful of newspaper clippings in the kitchen memorializing her kills. Each one matched the other through means of death and were found scattered on the floor. Most of the house appeared to be quickly ransacked, most likely by the rabbit before she fled, but she left damning pieces of evidence in her hurry.

Finally, they had proof of who the killer might be. They informed you of some other information as they questioned you sometime later. She did have a name: Anna Herman. She worked at an office complex for several years, only recently leaving due to maternity leave which coincided with your report. Since on maternity leave, she completely disappeared. Other office workers were questioned regarding her, but the info was inconclusive. 

Finally, they questioned you. They asked where she may have gone and what her motive might have been, but to both, unfortunately, you couldn't answer. All you knew was that she "loved" you and that she only ever spoke to you sparsely. The police thanked you for your time, but before they dismiss you, you ask about what if she returns for you. The police say patrols will be made around your neighborhood and her house will be monitored for some time until she is eventually caught. For the past year, you've yet to hear anything else.

You see a police cruiser occasionally passing by your house every so often, giving some form of relief. However, unease still fills your body knowing that you've yet to hear of her capture or death. Your mind wanders to her watching you from far away, always dreading the moment you open the window blinds to see her staring at you from afar. On top of that, you worry for her- 

No, your children. 

Where they might be, how they are treated, how they may grow up to be. You told your parents of her pregnancy, to which they returned your thoughts of revulsion. Neither of them had a good answer to give you. You try to ignore these niggling thoughts as you slowly readjust to a normal life, as hard as that may be. You've applied for another line of work, but with little success. Your parents have completely ignored anything you had to say about not purchasing a car, as they feared you would be kidnapped on the way to work. 

You're thankful and you can't help but agree to their sentiment. Despite your therapy sessions concluding long ago, you still can't help but have small panic attacks whenever you see a female rabbit. Worse, when any female anthro touches you, the sensation of fur on your skin causes you to almost scream out. Just the briefest touch sends jolts through your body and turns your stomach upside down, immediately sending your mind back to the time you were trapped away in that rabbit's home. It's so much of a struggle that you oftentimes have trouble just receiving a hug from your own mother.

You try to bring yourself back to reality and bury the depressing thoughts. It's been a long year since then. You're home. You're safe. You've begun applications for a license for owning a firearm, just in case. 'All will be fine', you repeat to yourself mentally. 

All will be fine. 

All will be fine... 

The chime of the doorbell snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts, echoing across the house to you. Taking a brief check to make sure you appear presentable, you approach the front door. Fear creeping back into your system, you look through the peephole to see who was on the other side. However, you see no one. Not a soul could be seen. 

You open the door, wondering if something was left like a package. You're somewhat correct. What lays before you brought back the harsh intensity of fear and disgust you've been struggling to keep under wraps tenfold and it was in the unassuming appearance of four carrycots. Resting in them were four, small baby bunnies. Two with grey fur, one brown, the last white. Your heartbeat picked up its speed to a thunderous tempo as you notice a small note hanging on one of the carrycots. 

Written in pen are a few simple words. Words that make breathing near impossible as your body starts to enter an anxiety attack. 

"I will see you soon, my love. ❤"

END