Just as I think I’ve put enough distance between us, I trip over an exposed root. My ankle twists. White-hot pain causes me to whimper as I fall against a felled tree.
The man appears. He sees me lying on the floor, the white rabbit suit now stained with mud, and laughs.
“Oh, my sweet rabbit.” The excitement in his eyes makes my stomach heave. I still have the knife in my left hand, out of sight.
“Fuck off!” I scream at him, baring my teeth. This is not where I thought I’d die. And I definitely didn’t anticipate meeting my end while wearing a fucking bunny suit.
Something moves behind us. A faint rustle. Possibly an actual rabbit. I hope the poor thing hides, or it might end up like me: dead.
The asshole smirks as he lowers his gun. He thinks I’m a defenseless woodland creature.
A whimper of pain escapes as tears track down my face. I hate feeling so fucking helpless. The knife in my fist is the only defense I have left against this dangerous predator.
The man reaches out and wipes my tears away with a smooth thumb.
“Poor little rabbit,” he croons, placing the gun on the ground, out of my reach. Before I can react, he grabs my bunny suit and tears it apart to expose my chest. I have my shirt on underneath, and he frowns. Did he expect me to be naked?
Memories of another time and place, a dark cab and a trucker who thought he could take what he wanted, threaten to overwhelm me. But I force the memories down. I can’t afford to black out and freeze like last time. If I do, I’m as good as dead.
Angelo isn’t here to rescue me.
There is no happy ending if this predator overpowers me. He’ll rape me first and then kill me. And from the sick excitement in his eyes, it won’t be a quick death.
I react on instinct as the man tugs at my shirt. The knife slides through the man’s jacket, and his eyes widen in shock. We both look down to see blood soak through the pale fabric of his khaki jacket. Before he can pull back, I withdraw the blade and stab again. Higher this time.
Blood sprays from a gaping wound in his neck. He reaches up, still faintly surprised, while trying to stanch the bleeding.
It doesn’t work.
“You should have been a vegetarian!” I yell, making no sense, even to me, but the man’s in no fit state to reply. He chokes on his own blood while trying to reach for his gun.
I lash out with the blade again, this time across his face. There’s a hideous gurgle, and then he falls.
Something feral inside me takes over, and I stab him again and again, fueled by adrenaline. Each time the knife sinks into his flesh, I sob out insults.
Eventually, my hands are so bloody that I lose my grip on the knife and it falls to the ground.
The man’s dead.
Nobody could survive that many stab wounds.
At least I hope not.
I laugh, but it’s more hysteria than genuine amusement.
I’m so fucked.
I killed a hunter.
I’m so fucked.
There’s a flash of movement across the clearing, and a second man wearing a skeleton mask appears. He freezes as he sees me slumped on the ground, covered in blood.
Two dark eyes drop to the steaming corpse, and I swear he chuckles.
What the actual fuck?
Why’s this one wearing a scary mask? None of the other men wore masks.
