“Touch him again,” he growled, “and I’ll show you what kind of connections I truly have.”
“Void.” Rabbit reached for him, but that set his mother off and before he could touch him she screamed.
The sound was chaotic and terrifying, like a banshee wail, and she shot across the floor with seemingly supernatural speed and snatched up the glass orb Baikal had brought along with him. By the time she’d turned back, she was lifting it high above her head, letting out another insane battle cry before lunging and—
Rabbit didn’t see what happened after that.
The memory, that one he’d struggled against for so long, snapped back into place as though someone had hit play on a television set that had been paused for too long. Images flashed before his eyes, recollection sinking him into a headspace that took him far from his actual surroundings and planted him right in the midst of a nightmare.
He’d been crying in the practice room. His mother had driven them home from the recital in a rage, refusing to answer any of his questions about Oli. He’d seen her pull him from the auditorium, and he had a bad feeling.
Up until this point, she’d only ever shown that side of herself to Rabbit, but there was always the chance, wasn’t there? The chance that she’d slip up and she’d do something monstrous and the whole world would—
Something pinged against the pane of glass by his head and he turned, searching the darkness outside for any sign of what could have produced the sound. He’d been about to pull back when he heard his name whisper-yelled a second before Oli appeared on the other side.
He startled, slamming a palm over his chest, but Oli didn’t give him much more time than that to recover, pointing to the right before disappearing around the side of the house.
Rabbit started toward the door leading out of the room but hesitated just beneath the threshold.
December had made it abundantly clear that Rabbit was never allowed to meet with his music teacher again. She’d screamed and ranted the entire drive about how big of a disappointment to her he’d been, how she’d always wished she’d had a daughter instead, someone who would listen to her and relate.
She’d slammed her hands on the steering wheel a couple of times, and though Rabbit was now twice her size, he’d still winced from the impacts, curling his shoulders in on himself protectively despite her never aiming his way.
This time.
If circumstances had been any different, Rabbit would have gone upstairs and pretended not to have noticed Oli at all, for both their sakes but…
Had he been seeing things, or had there been blood on Oli’s shirt collar?
He had to see. Had to know what had happened between the older boy and his mother once and for all, and since she refused to tell him, he’d have to go to the other party for answers.
Trusting that she was in bed—since she typically lost steam immediately after one of her outbursts—Rabbit snuck toward the back entrance and slipped out into the night. The cold air bit at his bare arms and he huddled as he darted around toward the side part of the house where he suspected Oli would be waiting. Overhead, the stars winked and a full moon helped to cast a pale glow, the only source to give him any sort of aid as he moved.
Shadows lurked from every corner and he tried not to pay them any heed, reminding himself that it’d been a long time since he’d been truly scared of the dark and that wasn’t something he wanted to go back to. He was older now, more in control.
“Rabbit!”
He followed that voice, picking up the pace when he spotted Oli standing just beneath the side porch light located by the small greenhouse. Grateful for a beacon out of the pitch black otherwise hovering around them.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, the fear he’d held for himself fizzling to nothingness the second he got a good look at Oli’s face.
His bruised and swollen face.
One of his eyes was entirely sealed shut, and his lip was cracked in three places. His cheeks and his jawline were covered in a smattering of harsh, purple, and blue blotches that had Rabbit instantly feeling sick to his stomach, and that was before the man took a step toward him.
Limpedtoward him.
“She didn’t…” Rabbit couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing, even though it was painfully obvious what had transpired after he’d lost sight of Oli and his mother out the back doors of the auditorium.
He’d wanted to leap off the stage and go after them, this intense dread coming over him then, but Rabbit hadn’t been able to. He was a slave to the beiska and the stage, and if he’d left in the middle of a performance, anything his mother had planned would have only been worse.
At least, that’s what he’d convinced himself. A pretty lie, perhaps, so he could say he wasn’t simply a coward too afraid of their mommy to act on their own, even if that action would be in the best interest of the only person on the entire planet who had ever treated him like a person and not a prop or a glittering item to ooh and aah at.
That’s what he was doing now even, however. Being a coward, trying to convince himself that what he was staring at wasn’t real for the sake of his sanity.
She’d hurt him in the past, sure, but that was different, and even then, she’d been sure not to leave any visible or long-lasting marks. She’d covered her tracks and left no evidence behind.
“Light.” Rabbit had realized there was something off about his mother a long time ago when she’d tossed the birthday gifts his kindergarten class had gotten him into the trash because they’d be “distractions”.
