Bunny Tales: A Dark Romance Psychological Horror with Captive (Run Rabbit, Run)

Chapter 1 ~Harley's POV 30 years old~

I adjusted the red bowtie of my suit, a sigh leaving my lips as I glanced at my reflection in the huge vanity mirror adorned with LED lights. A black top hat with a red silk bowtie perched on top of my head, and the long rabbit ears only made my 6'3 "frame seem bigger. The tailored black tuxedo with the long waistcoat would have been elegant if it wasn't for the white cotton tail sticking out. Being a cartoon performer wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I finished high school. To think that I had been the face of Huxleyland as Rich the Rabbit since I was six.

As I looked in the mirror, I felt a wave of nausea crash over me. The face in the mirror was the face of Rich the Rabbit. I had been playing that stupid rabbit since I was 6 years old, and now it seemed like I was about to spend the rest of my life in the costume. My dream of getting a decent education and starting a real career seemed to slip farther and farther away with each passing year.

"Ugh, I hate this," I muttered under my breath.

I thought back to how I had been sucked into this world of cartoons and animation by my father. He was the founder and owner of the Huxley Company and had built a small cartoon empire that centered around children's entertainment. It was a world I had never asked to be a part of, but here I was, stuck as Rich the Rabbit with no way out.

As I continued to stare at my own reflection, I couldn't help but wonder what had led me to this point. I couldn't blame my father entirely, but his influence had been strong. He had always pushed me towards the family business and had seemed to think that being Rich the Rabbit was my destiny. But I had other dreams, other aspirations. I had wanted to go to college, to make my own way in the world, to do something besides play a silly rabbit.

Looking at the long, white rabbit ears on top of my head, it was hard to deny that this character had taken my life over. Those damn ears were a constant reminder of my role as Rich the Rabbit. It didn't matter what else I did with my life; I was forever destined to be defined by this silly cartoon character.

I felt my hands clenching the edge of the vanity desk, the white silk gloves like a second skin, clinging to my fingers like claws. I was thirty-five years old now, but as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I felt like a small, scared child. The weight of my father's expectations and the pressure of being Rich the Rabbit weighed heavily on me.

I couldn't help but sigh as I thought about my father. He was 72 years old now, and sooner or later, he would pass away, and the entire Huxley Empire would fall onto my shoulders. The thought of having all of that responsibility and pressure hanging over me sent a shiver down my spine. I had never wanted to be a part of this business, yet here I was, about to inherit the entire family empire.

One of the things I dreaded the most was the fact that because of my father's age, I had been forced to take on the role of being the public face of the company and the family name. I was expected to represent the Huxley Empire in all its glory, to put on a smile and wave to the cameras. But it wasn't who I was. I didn't want to be the face of a children's entertainment empire. As if the constant role of Rich the Rabbit wasn't enough, I also had to play the part of the company's public face at parties and events. I had to put on shows, sign autographs, and wear the damn rabbit costume for hours on end. It was a grueling routine, and every time I stepped out in public as Rich the Rabbit, I felt like I was losing a little bit more of myself.

Once again, I was being dragged to another party. This time, it was being hosted by one of my father's old friends at his massive mansion. I knew the drill: put on my stupid suit and top hat, smile and wave at the cameras, sign autographs, and play the part of the cartoon rabbit. I grumbled to myself as I began to get ready for the party.

I was in the middle of adjusting my red bowtie when I heard a light knock on my bedroom door. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I had a feeling I knew who it was.

"Come in," I said, my voice laced with irritation.

To my surprise, it was Edward, our long-time butler. "The limousine is ready, Mr. Huxley."

I was a bit surprised to see Edward, our esteemed butler, standing in the doorway. He was a man who had been with our family for decades, and his presence always commanded respect. I let out a sigh as he informed me that the limousine was waiting to take me to the party.

"Thanks, Edward," I muttered, still struggling with my bowtie.

Edward nodded, his face betraying none of the emotions he might be feeling. It wasn't his job to show his emotions, only to dutifully carry out his duties. "Shall I help you with that bowtie, Mr. Huxley?" he asked, a hint of the faintest smile on his lips.

I looked up at Edward, my irritation slowly giving way to begrudging acceptance. I knew that Edward had seen me struggle with a tie many times before, and he was always the one to save the day. "Yeah, go ahead," I muttered, holding out the ends of the red bowtie to him.

Edward stepped forward, his hands moving with practiced ease as he took the ends of the bowtie and began to loop and weave them into a perfect bow expertly. "You know, Mr. Huxley, you never did master the art of tying your own ties. I recall when you were just a boy, I had to do the same thing every time you had an event to attend."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, knowing full well that Edward was right. I had never gotten the hang of tying a tie, no matter how many times he had shown me. "Yeah, yeah, I know," I grumbled. "I'm hopeless when it comes to ties. That's why I have you."

Edward chuckled softly as he finished adjusting the bowtie. He stepped back, examining his work with a critical eye, and nodded in satisfaction. "There you are, sir," he said, his tone professional yet warm. "Just as perfect as always."

I knew that Edward was complimenting not just my attire but also my looks. My gunmetal grey eyes were a gift from my father, while my silk obsidian hair had come from my mother. Despite the occasional white strand that had appeared due to the stress of the years, my boyish features never seemed to age. As much as I didn't like the attention my good looks garnered, I couldn't deny that they certainly made life easier when it came to public appearances.

"Thanks, Edward," I said, running a hand through my hair. "I guess I'd better get going." Edward nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Of course, Mr. Huxley. You'll want to make a grand entrance, as always."

I let out a dry laugh. Edward knew me well. I have always loved making a grand entrance, even if deep down, I loathe every second of it. "Yeah, yeah, grand entrance, got it," I muttered, grabbing my black top hat from the vanity.

As I was about to put on my top hat, I felt Edward's skilled hands adjust the rabbit ears one more time. I had to suppress a sigh as I let him do his thing. No matter how much I hated those damn ears, Edward was always meticulous in making sure they were straight and in place.

"There we go," Edward said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "Mr. Rich the Rabbit, in all his glory." I rolled my eyes, but there was no point in protesting. I was stuck as Rich the Rabbit, and Edward knew it better than anyone.

"Thanks, Edward," I said, my tone a bit more resigned. "See you later." Edward merely nodded and gave me a small bow. "Have a good evening, sir. Enjoy the party."

With that, I adjusted my top hat on my head and made my way out of my bedroom. The party was waiting, and as much as I wanted to avoid it, I knew I had no choice but to put on a smile and play the part of Rich the Rabbit.

I walked down the long hallway and down the Grand staircase, ready to make a quick exit. I was about to make a beeline for the front door when the sound of my father's voice rang out, stopping me in my tracks. I inwardly cursed as I heard the familiar sound of his wheelchair approaching. Turning around, I plastered a smile on my face and waited for him to approach.

"Ah, my son," my father said, his voice weak but still commanding. "You look splendid tonight. I see Edward has done his job well." He looked me up and down, his grey eyes sharp and observant.

To my utter horror, next to my father was his ever-present girlfriend, Elizabeth. She was a statuesque blonde and only 30 years old to boot, which made her young enough to be my sister. Her slender, tall figure was draped in an elegant evening dress that showed off her curves in all the right places. It was painfully obvious that she was with my father for one reason and one reason only - his money.

Every time I saw her, I felt a sense of disgust bubbling up inside me. She was like a viper, with her sharp, calculating green eyes and her burgundy lips that always curled into a smile that never reached her eyes. The idea of her playing the part of a mother figure was enough to make me want to gag. Even worse, my father seemed completely smitten with her. He had completely fallen under her spell despite the obvious age difference.

The knowledge that my mother had been a whopping 15 years younger than my father when I was born didn't shock me anymore. It was just part of the norm in the wealthy circle we existed in. These old, rich men always seemed to want younger and younger women, and it was practically expected.

My father, a widower for many years, had a habit of going through women like tissues. Since my mother had passed away, he had been married four times, and Elizabeth was merely the latest one. I had lost count of all the different women who had come and gone out of this house. Some lasted a few months, some a few years, but none seemed to stick around for long. It was a constant revolving door of gold diggers and young women looking to cash in.

I forced myself to push back the unpleasant memories and focus on the present. I looked at my father, hoping that whatever he had to say would be quick. "Is there something you wanted to talk about?" I asked, my tone polite yet terse. My greatest desire was to attend the party and leave as quickly as possible. This event was going to be a quick in-and-out affair for me.

My father chuckled. "Always straight to the point, aren't you, boy?" he said, his voice gruff yet amused. "No small talk, no pleasantries."

I could feel myself bristling slightly at his comment. He always had a way of making me feel like a child - like I was too impatient and rude. But I knew all too well that small talk and pleasantries were a waste of time. "What's the point of beating around the bush?" I asked, my tone flat.

My father sighed and shook his head. "You always were the no-nonsense type," he said. "But sometimes, a bit of chit-chat and pleasantries can go a long way in life."

I didn't respond, simply gritting my teeth. It was the same old song and dance with my father. He never understood my straightforward nature. I always preferred to get to the point rather than waste time on pointless conversations. But he seemed hell-bent on trying to mold me into a more sociable person.

My father continued, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know, son," he said, "you might find that a little bit of small talk and politeness goes a long way in this world. People tend to like it when you're not so brusque all the time."

"Especially if you want to find yourself a nice gal..." He added.

I could feel my patience wearing thin at his words. I knew exactly where this was going. "Father," I said, trying to keep my tone even, "I'd rather not have this conversation right now if you don't mind."

But my father, with his ever-present smirk, ignored my plea and continued. "You're not getting any younger, you know," he said, a hint of concern in his voice. "It's about time you thought about settling down, don't you think?"

I clenched my fists, feeling a mix of frustration and irritation boil up inside me. I knew he always had a penchant for meddling in my love life, and it was getting old. "Father," I repeated, my voice growing firmer, "I appreciate your concern, but my love life is none of your business."

My love life... or rather, the glaring absence of one. I had had my share of relationships and flings in my teenage years and early twenties, but those days felt like a distant memory. Intimate bonding had become a delicate subject for me, with the events of past experiences still lingering in the back of my mind like a ghost.

I could feel a headache starting to form as my father continued to push the topic. Frustration and irritation threatened to bubble up, but I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath. "Father," I said firmly, "I understand your concerns, but I don't have time for this right now. I have to attend this party, and we wouldn't want to cause a scandal by being late, would we?"

My father's smirk only seemed to broaden at my words. He knew he was getting under my skin, and he relished the fact. "Ah, yes, the prestigious party," he said. "I suppose you're right. We wouldn't want you to arrive after all the eligible young women are already taken up."

I felt my irritation spiking again at his words. His constant meddling in my love life was enough to drive me insane. "Father," I said through gritted teeth, "I am perfectly capable of finding a partner if and when I decide I want one. Please... Can we drop this topic already?"

But my father, refusing to give up the subject, chuckled lightly. "Oh, I know you can find one on your own, my boy. But my point is, why wait too long? The good ones tend to get snatched up pretty fast, you know."

Bitterly, I couldn't help but scoff internally at my father's hypocritical words. His own love life was a joke, consisting of nothing but gold diggers and money-hungry women who wanted to use him for his fame and fortune—or worse, harlots who had caused me nothing but heartache and trauma.

"Nevermind. I am going to be late." I decided to cut the conversation short, unwilling to listen to my father's nonsense any further. Without another word, I turned on my heel and strode out of the door, leaving my father and Elizabeth behind.

The moment I stepped outside, the sight of the black Bentley limousine greeted me parked in front of the towering mansion. The driver stood ready, waiting to take me to the dreaded party. I glanced at the car and then sighed deeply, resigning myself to the inevitability of attending the party. I walked towards the waiting limousine, and the driver immediately opened the door for me. I got into the car, the soft leather of the seats caressing my weary form.

As the car began to roll, I leaned back and let out a sigh, feeling the tension in my body begin to ebb away slowly. The party was a necessary evil, a testament to my status as the son of a wealthy businessman. But right now, all I wanted was to be alone, free from the constant prying of my father and his latest harlot.

My gaze lingered out the window, taking in the sights of the expansive estate. The gardens were in full bloom, with all sorts of flowers and plants on display. However, I couldn't help but notice the big bushes that were cut into the shape of rabbits. A grimace appeared on my face as I looked at them. The sight of the rabbit bushes sent a pang of irritation through me. They were a constant reminder of my father's obsession with rabbits and his insistence on my "Rich the Rabbit" persona. I loathed that stupid image, but he insisted on using it for his brand and my public appearances.

And that was something I couldn't deny. The "Rich the Rabbit" character had become incredibly popular among people of all ages. Kids adored it, of course, but surprisingly, even teenagers and adults found it lovable and endearing.

It was as if the cuteness of the character had some sort of universal appeal, transcending age groups and demographics. Everywhere I went, I would see people, both young and old, carrying "Rich the Rabbit" plushies, keychains, and other merchandise. With a heavy sigh, I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, trying to drown out the memories and thoughts swirling through my head. The steady hum of the car's engine lulled me into a state of semi-relaxation.

Another night in Los Angeles, the city of angels, and yet another meaningless, superficial party to attend. I couldn't help but wonder how many more of these types of events I would have to endure in my lifetime.