Run Rabbit Run

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Run rabbit run,
as fast as you can;
don't look back.

***

Lyrics Credit: The Hoosiers: "Run Rabbit Run"
For Cute Love's "Music and Lyrics Challenge"

(I recently changed one of the names - don't be confused. ;])

Submitted: December 29, 2009

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Submitted: December 29, 2009

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It was the car they'd both loved for their whole lives, the old, beaten up, little car that used to be identified as white. They sat on it, laughing and talking, like they'd done when they were six, ten, thirteen; so many memories were shared on the dented hood of that car. But on that late summer day, sitting on the car, that they're lives would be altered forever.

Andrew was thin, boyish, and adorable, with the sweetest dimples anyone had ever seen. Rachael was tall, elegant, and beautiful, with an innocent splash of freckles across her pale nose. Together, visually, they were the perfect couple, completing each other and making the other one stronger. Everyone saw them together in the future, everyone - except Rachael. She loved Andrew: as a friend. The thought of them "together" never seemed to cross her mind. She hadn't been ignoring or dismissing the idea, it just didn't occur to her. But Andrew was patient, determined - he was ready to wait as long as it took until she realized how much he loved her.

However, his dream was often interrupted by other boys who she fell for. But he was her pillow to scream into, her shoulder to cry on. Each time she was broken he wanted to tell her that he'd never scar her the way every other boy had. Though Andrew had envied every boy she'd kissed or dated, he had never been utterly and completely put-off by another boy until he met Simon.

It was on that very day, on that old car, that Simon first pulled up onto the quiet street. Before he was even visible, it was clear the man was out of place; he owned a jet black, sleek, Porsche that purred beautifully as it glided down the road.

"Who's that?" Rachael asked, mesmerized as much as Andrew was provoked. Meanwhile, the engine faded away, and a tall, muscular man wearing a flashy, expensive suit slipped out into the warm sun.

"I don't know. Whoever he is, he's an idiot for wearing that in the summer. . ." Andrew grumbled. He could recognize the excitement in his best friend's eyes, how while the stranger's obvious riches annoyed him, they thrilled her.

Rachael giggled, "He looks interesting."

Simon walked gracefully towards the two of them, putting on his dark sunglasses that were bound to be some designer brand that Andrew couldn't pronounce. As the man approached, his face came into focus, making Andrew gasp irrationally. Whether it was the sly smirk, the expensive attire, or the mysterious car, there was one thought spiraling in Andrew's mind, one word lingering on his tongue, one sign flashing in front of his wide eyes: dangerous.

It scared him even more that Rachael's expression was the exact opposite: intrigued, curious, infatuated. She found his riches, his grace, his foreign presence alluring, and Andrew wasn't sure he could change her simple mind. By the time the man reached where the two were sitting, Andrew could almost feel smoke funneling out of his ears. "Good afternoon," he said slowly, seductively; Andrew coughed, disgusted. "Does either of you have a phone I could borrow? I left mine at home."

By "either of you", he meant Rachael - he didn't even grant the fuming Andrew a second glance. Andrew was about to growl at him to get the hell out of there when Rachael happily obliged, handing him her phone, "You can use mine."

"Thank you . . .?"

"Rachael."

"Rachael, thank you," he smiled, the sun reflecting off his teeth and making them shine gravely white. "I'm Simon, pleased to meet you." Andrew was far too angry to care about the obvious regection Simon was treating him with.

Andrew watched as a hot, rose-red blush spread up into his best friend's cheeks. Simon politely turned away and quickly dialed whatever number he so desperately needed to call; Andrew didn't miss the suspiciously hushed tone of his conversation, but naturally, Rachael did. She was most likely dreaming of him ordering her flowers or some crap like that. When he was through, he held on to the phone for a few minutes later, pressing buttons with a knowing smirk on his face. Once again, Rachael was utterly oblivious.

"I'll be in town for a few days, hopefully I'll see you around soon." Simon waved subtly, then turned smoothly on his heels and walked back towards his high-end vehicle. It wasn't until he was halfway down the street that Rachael figured out the dilemna in his offer.

"How?"

Andrew didn't want to answer her, he truly hated the very idea of it but he cared far to much to pass by assisting her with her current dream. "Check your phone," he mumbled, his voice cracking at the end.

She looked at him with a puzzled expression before checking her contacts, thrilled to find "Simon :)" as a new addition to her list. She leaped, squeaking into the air for joy and then rolled over the car hood to hug Andrew. He smiled, melancholy, holding her and inhaling the earthy smell he'd come to recognize as perfection. "You're the best Andrew," she praised earnestly, squeezing a little tighter before pulling away and hoping off the car.

"Whatever you say Rabbit," he replied.

She turned around, a mischevious, curious look in her eye. "Why do you still call me that? That nickname must be from third grade."

"Maybe it's because your ears are still too big for your head," he winked, temporarily fueled by the happiness of their childhood. She rolled her eyes and skipped off towards her house, leaving Andrew alone with his father's car. He looked down, still smiling softly to himself. He still called her that because, when he spoke that silly name, he was reminded of the time when there were no other boys to replace him - when they'd walk down together to the local park, and she'd peek down the rabbit holes, calling for one; he would pull her back and tell her that one of them was going to bite her someday, and they'd roll through the grass until their parents called for them. Rachael was the new, mature woman who would never really love him; Rabbit was the girl who always did.

***

Two Weeks Later

"Simon, no!" Rachael pushed him lazily away, still smiling and considering his stubborn persistance as a cute, innocent act of devotion. And yet, even after her beautiful smile faded away, he wouldn't leave her alone. "Stop it!" she tried again, more urgent now. He rolled his eyes and chuckled darkly, pushing her back onto his scratchy hotel bed. "GET OFF OF ME!" she screeched, now desperate, clawing at his rough, leather skin and kicking as violently as her weak body could manage.

She was silenced instantaneously the moment she felt the gun's cruel, ice cold touch pressed gently against her head. "Shut up Rachael. I've waited two weeks for this. Do you think I'm going to leave this idiotic nowhere town without what I want?"

It was a rhetorical question; Rachael could hardly stop the bone-chilling shivers that were racing through her skin. He grinned in response to her fear, "No, I won't. Now stay on this bed, and I'll be right back. If you've moved, I'll kill you, okay sweetheart? If you want to put me in a good mood, take that damn dress off - you look like you're seven." He laughed to himself, the sound so menacing and heartless that time seemed to stand still in terror.

The second he was out of sight, Rachael sat up, looking around for some glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe she could escape without her innocence being ripped away. And, without a bullet through her head. Then she spotted it, the one little flaw in Simon's sinister plan: the window was open, only a thin, weak screen preventing her from freedom. Then, merely a two story jump into the cool, glowing water.

The moment she'd devised her escape route, she bolted towards the window ripping through the screen as if it were tissue paper and leaping out into the night air. She was nearly at peace, comforted by the thrill of the wind rushing by her ears and the absence of the stuffy, indoor air. Then she was greeted by sharp reality: the water below. Her legs stung as they slapped the surface of the water, but that was no dire obstacle; she sprinted out of the hotel, soaking wet, towards the only person that had a chance of helping her.

Andrew sat alone on the abused white car, leaning back on the front window and looking up at the sky, a dark blue pool sprinkled with silver sparkles. He was caught in a dream-like trance, wondering where Rachael and the horrible Simon was. Didn't she see how shallow his eyes were when he promised to protect her, how this image of perfection she saw was too good to be true?

"Rachael?"

Andrew rocketed upright, he couldn't believe his eyes: the girl that had, only this morning, been so euphoric and satisfied that the smile could not have been ripped of her skin, now with a look that foreshadowed death. He rushed forward, bounding off the old car to take her in his arms. She only sobbed, unable to manage a single comprehendable word for an excruciatingly long time.

"He's coming!" she cried eventually, the words choked and broken.

She didn't need to elaborate; Andrew knew exactly the monster who was somehow hearting her, and he didn't care if he'd beaten her or told her a lie. "Let's go," he said soothingly, grabbing her damp hand and leading her out into the field they used to own. Both of them were comforted by the smooth grass and refreshing dirt as they ran silently towards the safety of the neighboring, bustling town. The heavenly sight of its neon lights was in sight when a single gunshot rocketed through the air, whistling in between them, dangerously close.

"Oh god oh god. . ." Rachael moaned, tears streaming down her face like little crystals.

"Go on, get out while you can. I'll try to stall him. Get help and I'll come as soon as I know you're safe," Andrew said, thankful for how confident his voice sounded. Inside, his mind was whirling from fear and adrenaline, trying to block out what would have happened had that bullet been a few inches to the right.

She shook her head vehemently. "No, I won't leave you."

Another shot whizzed past them, crashing into the dirt and sending fireworks of mud into the air. "Go!"

She took a few steps backwards, still reaching out towards him. Her heart was screaming to stay, while her mind told her to get the hell out of that field. Andrew saw her hesitation, saw the concern painted across her tear-stained face. She needed to leave, if she didn't. . . A stray tear leaked out of Andrew's eye. "Run Rabbit, Run! As fast as you can!" he cried, well aware of the pounding footsteps behind him. "Don't look back!"

She took one long, pained look at him - the kind that seems to go on forever, with eyes as penetrating as a laser and a hurt expression beyond description. Then, she turned away and sprinted off into the moonlight. Her toes slammed into rigid rocks, mud flew up into her eyes, bugs scraped and whipped her skin, but she kept going, stumbling in desperation to get away. Andrew's words echoed in her head, and soon she didn't know if he was still yelling at her, or if the phrase was alive only in her derranged mind: Run Rabbit Run! As fast as you can, don't look back!

Don't look back. Don't look back!

They were real now, his words - slicing through the air, as tangible as Simon's gun.

Don't look back!

Weaker now. She fought against the vigorous force trying to turn her body around, trying to make her look back. She fought to block out the violent, frenzied yells, the harsh footsteps, the gunshot. She stopped, her feet refusing to carry her any further. The windows of buildings were coming into focus - she was so close, but there was some sort of desperate paralysis keeping her chained to the ground.

A second gunshot rung through the air, and a cry was prominant in the quiet night. Rachael heard her best friend's futile words for the final time, trying to save her. "Run Rabbit Run, as fast as you can. . . don't look. . . back . . ." with a loud cry and a spasm of coughing, silence covered the field like a blanket. Only then, with the distant, dying sounds of her best friend, did Rachael realize what everyone had been trying to show her for her whole life, the knowledge that she'd lost somewhere in the maze of growing up: she loved Andrew.

Rachael turned around and looked back, seeing the smoke snaking out of Simon's gun, seeing Andrew lay motionless on the floor.

She fell to her knees; another bullet glided over the grass - the fox caught the rabbit.


© Copyright 2019 Lucciola. All rights reserved.

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