Red Leather (Book 2)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When I was six years old, Daddy and I were living in an old house.

It was originally my grandmother's, passed on to us when she passed away herself. It was double-storied and very grand, with tall windows overlooking the bay, a swing set, and even a white picket fence.

I would have been perfectly happy with it, if it weren't for that one afternoon.

We once had a dog named Sundae. She was a big, gentle, cuddly Golden Terrier whom I adored. And I still do regret having been the reason she was put down.

Because I was the one who framed her for the neighbourhood rabbit's death.

The stupid little bunny had destroyed all the roses Daddy and I had spent an entire day planting. My favourite yellow ones – the ones I'd pluck off and braid into my hair when I was playing princesses – were trampled on and ruined. I cried the whole night, and punched my Daddy with my little fists when he offered to plant me new ones.

I didn't want new roses. I wanted my old roses.

The rabbit had to die.

Even at that early age, I knew enough sense to keep track of people's patterns. So I knew that the neighbours left for work in the morning, almost the exact same time that Daddy drove me to school. On that day, I had waited just after recess before swallowing half a bottle of glue, and throwing up violently in the middle of naptime.

I was sent home immediately.

"How are you feeling, Poppy?" Daddy asked frantically, wiping my face with a damp face towel. Daddy always became extra worried whenever I got sick. I used this to my advantage a lot.

"I'm thirsty," I lied, clutching my newly bought Hello Kitty bucket to my chest. "My throat hurts, Daddy."

"Okay – you stay in bed," he stood up and switched the fan off. "I'll get you a glass of water."

"But tap water is yucky!" I croaked, effectively turning on the waterworks. He caved within seconds.

"Alright, alright. You're a big girl, I know. Stay where you are until I get back from the store, okay?" he asked, hesitating by the door. I was beginning to get very impatient, since I wanted nothing more than for him to leave. "Just the bottled water?"

"And jelly beans?" I asked hopefully. The glue felt sticky and gross in my throat, but it was worth it. Because my plan couldn't fail now.

"Okay," he nodded. "Remember to take your medicine." I leaned back and listened to his hurried steps down the stairs, and after a few moments, I saw the car pull out of the driveway from the window.

I threw myself out of bed immediately.

Sneaking carefully into the neighbour's backyard, I carried a butter knife to my shirt, trying not to trip over my untied shoelaces. Once I made it to the fat, disgusting little bunny's cage, I scraped at the wire desperately until it gave out. He scurried over to the farthest side of his cage, looking fearfully at me with his red eyes.

"Filthy bitch," I spat, lifting up the trembling rabbit. I didn't know what the word 'bitch' meant, but I'd heard a group of cool teenagers use it when they walked past me, and it sounded mean and ugly. Daddy's girlfriend used that word a lot, too.

I didn't like her.

Without hesitation, I gripped the animal in a death grip and sprinted into the house, slowly opening and closing the neighbour's picket gate and taking the steps 3 at a time.

I knew Daddy was coming back any second, so I had to be as fast as possible. Sundae watched me warily from her place on my bed as I harshly dumped the whimpering bunny into my Hello Kitty bucket. My stomach was turning violently, but I tried to ignore it.

It think that moment might have been the first time that I had ever felt that thrill – the savage thrill of knowing that the situation was mine, and that the bunny's life was in my hands. I was going to kill that bunny. And he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Even at such a young age, I had begun to seek that thrill over and over.

I gripped my knife tightly in one hand, choked the bunny's throat with the other, and slashed at his face once. Again. And again. The tiny thing started to move and wriggle frantically, making panicked cries at the back of its throat.

Over and over, I'd drive the knife through and across his flesh, and all the while my heart thundered loudly in its rib cage. It was like being in a trance; it wasn't my bloody little hands driving the knife through the bunny's neck, but someone else's. It was surreal. It was incredible.

Sundae's terrified barking startled me out of it.

"Shut up, Sundae!" I yelled. The bunny was now unrecognisable, and blood covered my hands and face and bucket.

But Sundae's barking just grew louder, and if I hadn't glimpsed the car pulling from the window, I never would have stopped.

I dropped the knife and the bloody lump of carcass immediately. "Oh no!" I gasped.

I had to think quickly.

Without making a conscious decision, I tipped the bucket to its side, spilling vomit and blood and fur onto the floorboards. Running forward, I yanked on Sundae's collar and very slowly pulled him to the bunny. He dragged his weight, so I pulled harder.

Come on!

Daddy's footsteps were already reaching the stairs. "Poppy? They didn't have jelly beans, I'm sorry."

With a sudden flash of genius, I knelt down next to Sundae and the rabbit, wiping my hands all over Sundae's face and snout. The knife had been shoved under the carpet.

Then I began to wail. Loudly.

The door was busted open within seconds. "What's wron-"

Daddy stopped dead.

"I-It was Su-undae!" I shrieked and poured my eyes out, rubbing at my eyes roughly. "Sundae killed the bunn-ny next d-door!"

Daddy's face was white, and there was no room in his expression for anything but shock and horror. It was moments before he talked, all the while I kept sobbing hysterically, curling up into a little ball. My thoughts were everywhere at once, and part of me was afraid, afraid that Daddy would hate me forever and not call me his daughter anymore. I didn't know what would happen if he did.

Daddy couldn't know the truth.

Finally, finally, he swallowed down whatever he felt and took steps towards me, kneeling down until he was level with Sundae and I. His eyes – God, I could never forget the look in his eyes – soaked in everything at once. The lump of what was left of the bunny, gaping open and gushing blood. The tipped-over bucket. The crimson smeared all over Sundae's long face.

"How..." he tried again. "How did she get into your room, Poppy?"

"I let her in," I hiccupped, wriggling into his chest. My little fingers gripped his jacket. "And-and, she was carrying the bunny in her mouth, and I tried to get her out but she wouldn't go. I couldn't bring the bunny back to life, Daddy. I'm so sorry."

His hand slowly began to stroke my hair. "Shh. It wasn't your fault. Let's get this cleaned up, okay? Then we'll tell Mrs. Mann what happened."

A few days later, Sundae was put down, being deemed a dangerous threat to both humans and animals. Mrs. Mann personally made sure that it happened, so there wasn't much I could do about it. Being too afraid of the memory of what I'd done, the blood-soaked knife was left under the carpet. It had left a stain that only I could see.

And from then on, the house had never been the same.

***

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