Caged Away

Tw: Blood, gore, mentions of mental disorders

I was a careless child.

I’m still very careless. I had to rummage through every nook and cranny of my house just to find my pen sitting on the kitchen counter. But enough of my pen.

I was a lonely child too.

My mother dear was the CEO of an internationally famous biscuit factory, and because of her position, I saw her very little throughout the day. I only had the butler, Mr. Hoggins, as company.

Mr. Hoggins was a fairly young man, 35 years old, and he would keep me company. But still, I was quite lonely despite Mr. Hoggins being my only friend. Might I mention that I was home schooled? So, no school life, and definitely no friends, considering that I was stuck in a big mansion that I called my home.

Until one day, Mr. Hoggins brought a box to my room. He said that mother told him to give it to me. He gave me a tiny little bow, and I nodded my head politely in dismissal as I watched his tall, stalky figure disappear with every graceful stride he took. He was beautiful to watch. He had brown skin, like honey with his long eyelashes. He had blue eyes with jet black hair, and it was very clear he took great care of himself. Mr. Hoggins looked like a dainty, fragile little thing, but in reality he was stronger than Zeus himself. He was quick-witted and had an eye for fashion. He’d pick my gowns for the product launches that my mother rarely took me to.

I eyed the box. It wasn’t wrapped. It just made some noise. I observed the little holes on the top of the box. I wondered what they were for.

Mother hadn’t given me a present for quite some time. And this time, for my 13th birthday, she was on a business trip. The best present my mother has ever given me was a fancy dinner at a restaurant, and she didn’t show up until closing hours.

I licked my lips in anticipation and rubbed my hands together, trembling with excitement.

The box moved.

I jumped.

What was it? I wondered. Was it a dog? Or a cat?

I was wrong! It was a small white rabbit with lop ears, a button nose, a pink mouth, and glossy red eyes that slowly came out of the box. I was in awe.

I loved the rabbit to death. I played with her every single day. Her nose twitched from time to time. Her silky soft fur and her captivating red eyes seemed to lure me to her every time we locked eyes. She was, overall, the most wonderful little bunny, and she never made me bored.

Remember how I mentioned that I was careless earlier? Well, one day, before going to bed, I had the habit of giving the bunny some cuddles, and Mr. Hoggins would change her litter, grumbling. I would laugh whenever he’d do that. But today it was different. I insisted on playing with her more. And no matter how much Mr. Hoggins negotiated with me, I was adamant. I had to stay up no matter what.

Time flew by, and by the time I knew it, the grandfather clock had struck 12. My eyes drooped, and I reluctantly kept the rabbit in the cage and exited the backyard to my room.

The next day, I woke up to check on the bunny first thing in the morning. But she wasn’t there. Mr. Hoggins looked upset, and he averted his eyes from mine. The cage smelt bad. It was a stench that was so bad, my eyes teared up and my nose stung. The cage was sticky with red stuff oozing out. Then I got a better look at the cage, and I found my bunny, ripped and mangled, shredded so much her organs spilled out of her as her blood still trickled down.

“I’m sorry, Eliza.” I heard Mr. Hoggins sigh sadly. “The neighborhood dogs got her.”

My body shook violently as I choked out sobs. I didn’t come out of my room until the next day.

I remembered the times we had.

I remembered how she cheered me up when I was down.

I remembered how she was my only real friend.

I didn’t want her to die.

I dreamt of her the entire night. Oh, how I would wish for her to be here. I wanted to touch her soft silky fur which had a faint smell of caramel.

I came out, hungry, dishevelled, and thirsty, and Mr. Hoggins ambushed me with his questions and worried rants. But I didn’t care about any of that. I wanted to go see the rabbit cage one last time. Lo and behold, the cage was still there. And she, I thought, was still there as well. However, it wasn’t her.

It was a stuffed bunny rabbit. It also looked like the bunny which I lost. It was very realistic. It was like having her back.

So, I picked the rabbit up and was going to take her to my room. She still stank of rotten blood since she was in the cage. I didn’t mind though. She was my new friend.

Just then, Mr. Hoggins came rushing in. “Please, Eliza—put it back.” He softly said, nervously looking at me. I was angry at Mr. Hoggins. “It is none of your business, Mr. Hoggins. You get paid to do your work. I order you around. You don’t get paid to do the opposite. ” I coldly as I walk towards my room. I got a quick glimpse of Mr. Hoggins’ betrayed and horrified face.

I didn’t talk to anyone for the next few weeks, and instead I spent some time with the bunny rabbit toy anyway.

A week later, after I played with the bunny, I kept her on the dining table because I wanted to go get the tea party set. I got that for my 10th birthday. When I got the bread, butter, jam, spoon, and knife for the finishing, my eyes, panic struck, searched around the room, scanning every nook and cranny for my rabbit toy, for she was nowhere to be seen.

I searched the kitchen, and there I saw one of the maids, throwing out what seemed to be my toy. And I was absolutely right. It was a stuffed toy. My mind immediately thought of one person who could do something so heinous.

Mr. Hoggins.

I slowly picked up the knife from the table and went to Mr. Hoggin’s tea room, where I saw him sipping some tea with some chocolate fudge cake on a plate. He was listening to jazz while reading a copy of one of H.P Lovecraft’s books. I crept behind him with the knife in my hand. I gripped it tight.

No one hurts my friend, I thought.

No one.

Just as I was about to pounce on him, he managed to apprehend me and my knife. He held me down, pinning me to the ground, strong enough to restrain me but not to kill me. He shouted at the maids to come help him, and one of them phoned the mental institute. I will never forget the weight of betrayal on my chest as I watched the men in white uniforms come out to take me and put me in their van, with teary eyes. I hated Mr. Hoggins from that day onwards. I despised him. He wanted to get rid of me.

Here I am 10 years later, finally out of the clutches of the mental institute, who had diagnosed me with PTSD and Bipolar Disorder. I kept in touch with Mr. Hoggins, and he sent me letters every day without hesitation. He showed me that, despite literally almost killing him, he believed in me and he understood my situation. I would fake sending letters of gratitude because one day I wanted to finish what I wanted to do. Hoggins was now 45 years old. Still single, but handsome and quick-witted as ever. Mother died due to cancer, and now her younger brother has taken over the factory. I wasn’t sad about her death. We weren’t close anyway.

Mr. Hoggins and I met at a place called Star City Café, a place where each day of the week has a special theme of music. Jazzy Mondays for example or Blues Fridays.

Today was a Monday, which means Mr. Hoggin’s favourite type of music was playing: jazz. I thought he specifically selected a Monday so he could listen to it.

We sat down.

He ordered a cheesecake and tea, and I ordered a frappe-chino with extra whipped cream. We talked about life and things in general. I saw the cutlery knife beside me. I took it in my hand and I gripped it tightly, the same way I did 10 years ago. I wanted him to suffer. Until we came to the topic of our past.

“You know, everyone thought you were crazy.” Hoggins laughed.

“Of course, I was! I was crazy about a darned stuffed animal! ” I chuckled, but the thoughts in my head weren’t too fun.

Mr. Hoggin’s face fell, slowly. Like how smaller rocks fall before a huge avalanche.

“Actually, I was just going to tell you about the ’stuffed animal’” Hoggins looked deeply into my eyes, arms folded in front of his chin. He looked like a businessman making a deal with a stubborn customer.

“What about it?” I asked, taking a sip of my cold coffee. I was plotting my murder plan now.

“Well, you see, the toy was, I don’t know how to say it, “real.” He stammered.

“Then if it was real like how you say, why the heck did I spend time in an asylum?” I said. The tip of the knife was gently teasing my finger.

“Eliza, you were carrying the body of the damn dead rabbit! It wasn’t a toy, it never was. It was a corpse. You hallucinated so hard that you saw the dead rabbit as a stuffed toy. You didn’t want to risk losing that either, so you went berserk whenever something happened to it or someone other than you touched it.

Do you have any idea how many times I had to pick up the rotten body parts of a decaying rabbit? It was really hell. And I’m glad you got the help you needed. If I hadn’t apprehended you, God knows how much further your obsession would have gone. ”

My eyes widened with shock. Just like the ocean waves on a stormy day, reality came crashing down. Why I was home schooled, why my mother and I had a strained relationship...

I never understood her love. I never understood why I never had any people around me except for Mr. Hoggins and the staff. The blindfold that disabled me from looking at the world around me in a bigger picture unravelled because of the man who I so wanted to desperately kill. He helped me all this time.

He was my guardian angel.

Sipping away at the last of my coffee with a sigh, I realized that I wasn’t caged away anymore.