We, my siblings and I, had a bunny when we were younger. My mother tells the story, I only have two memories to go by, she says we got him at a fair. My parents had given us all some money; my brother had spent his on sweets; my sister still had half of hers left; I had all of mine. I saved money to buy books and notebooks, they always called me a miser, took me years to figure out what that meant and it hurt. My siblings spotted the rabbit but did not have enough money to get it. My mother says I handed the money over willingly, I seriously doubt it. I would say I figured out that if I didn’t they would make my life way worse.
In my head we had the rabbit for less then a week, we could have had him for months, I have no idea. I remember playing with him once with my sister, she wanted to bring him indoors so we had to wipe his feet off the mat. That is all I have of that memory. The next was my dad walking in to tell us he was dead, he ate the rat poison. Any time I think of that rabbit, I wish I had withheld the money, he could have had a better life with a nicer family, I could have handled the punishment.
Dear little rabbit, I can’t even remember your name, I am sorry for your death, you deserved better, xxx
Prompts are from Sarah Selecky, http://www.sarahselecky.com/