It couldn't be.
Eyes wide to drink in the dark, paws cautious on the dusty carpet, each movement slow and silent, lest the shadows in the corner jump.
Miles down the hall, light cavorts in invitation; salvation just out of reach. Every step closer was terror, for both what could be left behind and what could be ahead.
It couldn't be.
A figure catches the TV's faint glow; a body enveloped in darkness that saw illumination as it inched in and out in a steady rhythm. In. Out. In. Out.
The little bun approaches the mouth of the hall, not daring to double-check the shadows behind him, mesmerized by unheard rhythm. It was one he knew. One he could not hear, but could see, could feel, of a song once fondly remembered.
He plants a paw against the side of the towering sofa, his heart drumming against his chest. He forces one long-winced eye open to fear and ecstasy.
It couldn't be.
"h...hey...?" he squeaks just quiet enough to be drowned out by the hum of the muted TV.
The figure does not answer, continuing to rock and in and out of the light.
Eli can only take brief glimpses, the threat of truth too great to truly look. Each blink chips away at the wall surrounding his heart. A flash of scarlet hair, a faint smack on ancient gum, the ghost of a coconut scented perfume.
It couldn't be.
Gaze buried into his sleeves, Eli hoists himself up onto the couch, tucked up against the arm, leaving plenty of breadth between them. He folds himself into a tolerable position and goes still, eyes open and locked on the tv in front of them, though he does not comprehend the muted infomercial one bit.
His ears twitch to a faint, tinny noise; more remnants of a forgotten song, smothered in all but the high-end as if played from a cheap radio. No lyrics, melodies, or even beats come to mind, yet the tune sits in the back of his brain on agonizing repeat.
Eli idly taps his fingers on the couch arm to the rhythm, at first softly, barely at all, then quite hard, each slap on the leather ringing against the otherwise silent walls. It's a rhythm played without consequence. And so he scowls.
Back. Forth. Back. Forth.
His paw falls heavy onto the adjacent cushion, the leather cracking out loud to no one.
"I..." he wants to speak. He wants more than anything to speak, even if no sound comes out, "I'm doing better in school...sort of..."
The pain in his chest makes him curl deeper into the corner of the couch. He does not look away from the TV, waiting until it cuts to a new program to speak again.
"and I...made...I made some friends...real ones"
Another segment passes. The eerie quiet is unbearable. With a deep breath and clenched fists in his pockets, he slowly turns to look to the other end of the couch.
"I'm...really trying hard now..."
The figure still rocks, still bathed in dark despite the TV's occasional flicker onto it. Eli raises a paw and slowly reaches out, the light illuminating him and only him.
At the last second, he sees the dark creep onto his finger, causing him to pull back. He looks back at the TV and pulls in his knees, wanting to be as small outside as he feels inside.
It couldn't be.
That was all he could think of and still the TV's hum grows ever fuzzier in his ears. The filtered rhythm from the figure fades, sure to be replaced with a new one. But maybe, in those scant few seconds...
"...I'm still messing up...aren't I?" he almost wants to believe. It's a self-crack for attention that still cuts deep to say aloud, if it sounded like anything at all.
He slowly uncurls from his ball, keeping his eyes on the cushions below him, "I know it...I know it...but...I don't know..." he shifts onto his paws and knees, "I want to...I really really want to..." his quiet voice begins to quiver.
Every building word burns in his stomach, "What...what did I do..."
The rhythm is gone. Nothing comes in it's place.
Eli moves closer, every inch feeling like years, "...tell me...please...please just tell me..."
Even the buzz of the TV feels distant.
He still can't bring himself to look into the dark. He shuts his eyes tight and continues moving forward, "Mom...?"
Silence.
"Mom...I...I'm here...please...Mom..."
Silence.
The bunny heaves, nails digging into the couch against his will. He reaches out for something, anything to ground himself.
Then, he feels it. The frazzled fur of fingers on his, cold, but solid. The pulse is there. The pulse is there.
He coils around the shadow's arm and cries softly into the dark, "Mama......mama......."
He hugs tighter, so tight he feels he could break it. Suddenly, he feels the cold leather of the couch on his face. He had fallen right through the shadow. Trying to meet it's gaze was met only with swirling, bloody darkness.
More tears fall onto the seat before they're hastily wiped away. The little bun tucks himself back into the corner, "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I...I-I won't bother you anymore...I won't...I promise..."
He's scared to open his eyes, but even more scared of falling asleep. He tries to watch the muted infomercial. The warm colors of the set and cheerful, inviting energy of the hosts brought him a bitter comfort, a cold nostalgia for nights of silent, mutual existence. It would be better that way. It was always better that way.
He curls up further, knees to his chin, fingers locked tightly together behind them. The world around him grows. He must be missable. He must be unseen. It's the only right thing to do.
The TV dims until it's gone. The arm of the couch goes soft. Eli can feel the fatigue take him. He wants to say one more apology, but then remembers his promise.
It's a brief, restless sleep, one that leaves him aching all over and in need of hurling his pillow at a wall.
It couldn't be.
There is no pillow, only the couch. The couch! It's still here!
The TV! It's off! But still there!
Eli gasps. He's still here. He's still here. Which means...
The bun snaps his head in the direction of the still dark, "Mo-!!" he nearly cries, the burst dying in his throat the moment he sees it.
The emptied, black sockets. The pale, withered fur. The stillness. The unbearable stillness.
Eli looks away, "No...no no no no..."
The familiar rhythm crackles to life, slow and discordant, pulsing in and out as if trying to speak.
"...sh....ed...t.....e...."
Tugging his ears down tight, Eli screams to the void, "No no no!"
He hears the clattering of the chunky, plastic headphones as they fall off her head. The faint rhythm goes spastic, speeding up, intercut by static.
"...she...wan...to..."
Eli wants to run, to spare himself this reminder that has haunted him year after miserable year. He wants to run into the black, into the arms of any devil that would have him, to have even the most sinister lies whispered into his ear.
"...she wanted to...she wanted to..."
But there is no where to run in the darkness. Nowhere to go, and no one to save him.
It couldn't be.
It couldn't be.
It couldn't be.
The headphones land at his feet and cry out.
SHE WANTED TO DIE
SHE WANTED TO DIE
SHE WANTED TO DIE
SHE WANTED TO DIE
SHE WANTED TO DIE
SHE WANTED TO DIE
SHE WANTED TO DIE
SHE WANTED TO DIE
SHE WANTED TO DIE
SHE WANTED TO DIE
SHE WANTED TO DIE
SHE WANTED TO DIE
-----
6:50.
Ten minutes till alarm.
Eli lays there, motionless, staring without blinking into his ceiling, slowly adjusting to the dark to make out the speckles of light from the rising sun, or at least what could penetrate through the blankets nailed over his window.
A restless day to follow a restless night, he thinks, knowing he has all of twentyish minutes to get a bath in. Normally, he'd grieve at the idea of going to school without one, but for once he could not imagine feeling any worse for not.
But sure, why not. He'll slack through class, bug Geist for books, drag Charlie to the arcade, eat his dad's food, and be back in bed in no time. All these precious things he still has. It couldn't be better.
It couldn't be.
Keywords
male
1,252,068,
female
1,137,338,
cub
299,036,
rabbit
145,688,
sleeping
13,851,
mother
12,044,
son
8,638,
dream
4,894,
mother and son
4,606,
nightmare
1,809,
implied death
269,
autism
245,
autistic
240,
guilt
180,
ptsd
135
Details
Published:
1 month ago
23 Nov 2025 14:25 CET
Initial: c35d26204b3eb61211ba00db044ee12c
Full Size: a5b3eb37c7ce60520f5f2baac06fff87
Large: cfbb5b8faed4fa3d2532b06eb71f5565
Small: 7ece13c69f5f103bc7919a4c99f3d020
Stats
133 views
5 favorites
0 comments
![Tower & Priestess [wip]](https://sf.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5817/5817650_SWEETMISSION_zzzn_noncustom.jpg "Tower & Priestess [wip]")