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The AdvAnTAGE Project: Mr. Cottontail

By Mantrid Brizon

(02/12/2021)

Wandering through the lonely woods, little Damian calls out.

“Hello?! Guys?! Where are you?!"

Again, and again, he cries out, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“This isn't funny, guys!"

The ten-year-old boy moves slowly through the dense, Georgia forest, his light jacket catching on the gnarled tree branches which stretch out like jagged fingers. A cool gust causes Damian to shiver. Why would they do this again? Why does he keep falling for it? As his legs grow weary, he finds a small boulder, about the size of a steamer trunk. Perching himself atop the rock, Damian pulls his legs close to his chest and wraps his arms around them. He slowly rocks back and forth, listening to the wind in the trees and the animals of the wood calling out to each other. He whimpers again, his lips contorted with sorrow.

“C-come on, guys! Please..."

He sniffles as the tears begin to falls, streaming down his cheeks. The wind chills his face. How will he ever get home? Greg and Peter took him deep into the woods, to 'show him something cool', but as soon as Damian became confused, totally dependent on their guidance, they abandoned him. He could hear them chuckling as they disappeared into the brush, and though the boy gave chase, the older, large and faster boys swiftly outpaced him. How long has he been lost? It feels like forever, but as he checks his cheap, Casio wristwatch, it's only been thirty minutes.

Perhaps his meekness is why they abandon him all of the time? Perhaps they know that he'll come back, because he has no one else to play with? Maybe if he finds his own way home, they'll respect him for his strength and determination? Taking a deep breath, Damian wipes the tears from his eyes and slides off of the rock. He turns to walk around the stone, but as he does, he lets out a shrill cry. Landing with a thud, he spits out the dirt and leaves he's nearly swallowed. Glancing down, he finds that he's tripped over a large root. Pulling his foot from the root, he's forced to sit up. It's somehow entwined around his ankle, like a hand. As the youth struggles to free himself, he brushes a pile of leaves, which falls away to reveal a hole.

“Huh?! What's this?" He thinks aloud.

Beside the rock is an old, rotten tree stump, and beneath the stump is a large hole, just big enough for Damian to squeeze through. Why was it covered with leaves? As he peers inside, he hears a shifting and his heart begins to race. Maybe it's a den for a mountain lion?! The boy gulps and returns to his previous task, tearing at the root that entangles his leg. Just as he frees himself, he hears the shifting growing louder. Something thumps on the dirt inside of the hole. Rising to his feet, Damian darts away, only to stop after a few steps.

“Don't be a little chicken." He says to himself. “This is why they keep doing this to you."

Taking another deep breath, the boy prepares himself. He slowly turns back, facing the hole, and steps closer. His feet crunch on the dead leaves and fragile twigs, his sneakers barely leaving a footprint in the hard soil. Squatting down, Damian soon finds himself on his hands and knees. He crawls closer toward the hole, peering inside.

“H-hello?" He sheepishly calls out.

His voice has a faint echo. How big is this hole?! Looking down at his jacket, he feels his pockets from the outside, patting them down. He growls to himself. How could he forget his flashlight? A boy scout like him is always supposed to be prepared! As he stares into the black abyss of the hole, the shifting continues to grow louder. Whatever it is, it's coming closer.

“Hey! Is that you, guys?! Don't think you can scare me because you-AHHHH!!!"

He screams as a hand reaches out for him, springing from the hole like a jack-in-the-box. The hand, a sickly greyish-white, is small but bares long and sharp looking claws. Leaping to his feet, Damian races away from the hole, whimpering and mumbling, berating himself for being so foolish. As he looks back to see if the monster is giving chase, he stops and furls his brow. A creature about his size, around four-feet-tall and very slim, races in the other direction, away from the boy. He turns his body to face the creature, which has long, tapering ears. They flop about rather cutely as its head bobs and weaves, dashing away on large, paw-like feet.

The creature looks back, as if to see if the boy is hunting it down, only to slam into the trunk of a tree. Damian cannot help but chuckle at the bumbling creature, but his amusement evolves into pity as it curls into a little ball and cowers, lying in the fetal position at the base of the tree, its back facing him. Slowly approaching the creature, it appears to shiver. Is it cold or afraid? Maybe it's both. Hearing him walking closer, the creature rolls, sitting upright but with its legs pulled close. Damian can finally see what he was so afraid of. The creature's body is covered in somewhat long, greyish-white fur, though it's speckled with dirt from the hole it was hiding in.

It walks on two legs and has two arms, just like him, with a slender torso, just like his. Its head is strange, shaped vaguely like a right triangle and with a very broad snout. Two eyes, as blue as a cloudless sky, sit on either side of the creature's head. Its brow is softened with fear, and though its hands have menacing claws, about the size of the blade of his Swiss Army knife, the beast does not use them. Seeing the creature's fear only emboldens the boy, but he is not like Greg and Peter. Kneeling down, Damian waves a hand.

“Hi."

The creature tries to slither away.

“Wait! I'm not going to hurt you!"

It pauses, as if it understood him. Reaching for his left jacket pocket, the boy pulls down the zipper. He slips a hand inside and pulls out a Ziploc bag, filled with little candies. Perhaps a gift will help the creature relax? It worked in a movie he'd seen, after all! He lifts the bag and presents it to the creature, which cocks its head and furls its brow. When it doesn't take the bag, Damian has another idea. He'll prove that it's safe. Opening the bag, the creature immediately sniffs the air and clicks its large teeth together, though it still avoids the candies. Damian takes a piece and eats the candy.

“Mmmmm! See? It's good!" He says with his mouth full.

Thoroughly perplexed, the creature reaches out a clawed hand. It's unsteady and nervous, but Damian can see that it's trying. Taking a piece of candy from his palm, the creature brings it close to its face. It sniffs the candy and seems quite intrigued. After giving the candy a lick, its eyes light up and it stuff the piece of candy into its mouth. Crunch, crunch, crunch! Damian giggles as the creatures claims the entire bag, devouring the delicious substance.

“I've never seen anything like you before!" The boy chirps. “You're kind of like Bugs Bunny... If he was in Nightmare Before Christmas. Can you talk?!"

The creature cocks its head, still munching away on the candies.

“I guess that's a 'no'. I'm Damian."

The creature takes another handful of candies and eats them, looking over the boy who so politely introduces himself.

“I'm sorry if I scared you, but you scared me, too. I was looking for my friends."

Damian sighs, recalling the snickers of Greg and Peter as they abandoned him. He glances back, over his shoulder as he looks toward the expanse of the woods.

“I guess you could call them that. They play with me sometimes, but they're mean... I don't have any other friends... Do you have any friends?" He looks back at the creature.

Once again, it cocks its head, ever the silent type. With a little sigh, Damian straightens his legs and takes a seat on the ground.

“You don't have friends either, huh?"

The creature seems to relax as it continues to eat Damian's bag of candy. Once it takes the last bite, it tosses the bag aside.

“You shouldn't litter."

The creature turns and looks toward the bag. It's as if it wishes to retrieve that bag, like it knows that it might have disappointed the child. As it turns, Damian's eyes scan the creature. It's arms, though covered in a fluffy, albeit dirty, coat of fur, have noticeable muscles. Just above its buttocks is a little tail, shaped like a candle's flame.

“Hmm... I wonder what I should call you. How about... Mr. Cottontail! That's a neat name, right?"

The wind blows the bag away, and so the creature looks back. Damian moves a hand between himself and the creature, once again imitating a movie.

“Damian." He presses his hand against his chest. “Mr. Cottontail." He extends his hand toward the creature. “Damian... Mr. Cottontail..."

No longer afraid of the boy, Mr. Cottontail slithers closer. It sniffs the air around the boy, bringing its face closer and closer. It briefly brushes his cheek, making him chuckle. As he laughs, the creature reels, as though it doesn't realize he's amused. Damian climbs to his feet and holds out a hand.

“Do you want to hang out with me? I got no one else to hang out with."

Looking over his hand, Mr. Cottontail slowly reaches out. It grasps his hand with startling strength. Damian gently pulls and Mr. Cottontail rises to its feet. Standing eye-level with the boy, Damian can no see how imposing the creature is. Its chest is slim but bears enough muscle to be seen through its fur. He stops himself, however, before his eyes drift too far down. With Mr. Cottontail holding firmly to his hand, Damian and the creature begin to walk. He speaks to the creature, telling it about himself and his 'friends', revealing his dislike of school and talking about TV and video games.

The one-sided conversation with the creature eases the boy, who no longer feels so alone. Mr. Cottontail, though an unnerving sight, almost monstrous, is swiftly becoming a comfort. It surprises Damian how swiftly he warms to the strange, silent creature. The sun begins to dip toward the horizon, and Damian finally realizes the lateness of the hour. He lifts his arm and glances at his watch. He's already spent nearly six hours with the creature!

“Wow! Time flies when you're having fun, huh?" He remarks, looking to Mr. Cottontail.

Yet again, the creature merely cocks its head. It does something else which catches his attention. Is it smiling?! Damian smiles back, and Mr. Cottontail gives his hand an assuring squeeze. As they continue to walk through the woods, Damian can see something in the distance. The top of the water tower just barely peeks over the tops of the trees. Finally realizing where he is, he grows excited. He can finally go home. He turns to Mr. Cottontail but before he can say anything, the creature pulls its hand away. It turns its head and its long, bunny ears shift.

Does it hear something? Damian asks the creature what's wrong, but it ignores him. He asks again, and it holds up a hand to silence him. Trusting in his new friend, he listens quietly. That's when he hears them.

“Alright, Damian! It's been long enough!" Greg chuckles.

“Are you ready to come out?!" Peter snickers.

As the voices grow closer, Mr. Cottontail abruptly turns and darts away.

“Hey! Where are you going?! I thought you were my friend!!!" He yells at the creature.

It disappears into the nearest brush, the leaves shivering as it leaps into cover. Damian takes a few steps toward the bushes, but he can hear the footfalls as they steadily become quieter; Mr. Cottontail is running away. An anger grows within him, almost as powerful as the sorrow that once surrounded his heart. Why does everyone abandon him? Even his mother doesn't spend any quality time with him at home; Damian is always alone. With the rage growing stronger, Damian turns toward the voices of the thirteen-year-old boys who so quickly left him behind. Stomping his feet as he trudges through the forest, he shoves his way through a patch of scraggly branches and nearly slams into Greg and Peter.

“Woah! Slow down, speed racer!" Greg chuckles.

“Yeah. We were coming to get you." Peter smirks.

“I don't need you to come get me!" Damian shouts at the taller, older and stronger boys.

“It sure looks like you do. It's almost dinner time and you're STILL out here, right where we left you." Greg retorts.

“I see the water tower! I'm going home!" Damian pushes past them.

“What? Just like that?!" Peter laughs.

“Come on. We were coming back. We always do. You're our favorite pet!" Greg snickers.

“I'm not a pet, and we're not friends! Screw you guys!"

“... What?"

Greg and Peter look toward each other, then turn to the boy who so casually disregards them. They race to catch up to the boy. Peter, thoroughly amused, is about to open his mouth to make a witty retort, but Greg snarls.

“What did you say?!"

“I said 'screw you guys'!" Damian repeats himself.

“I bet you would, you little faggot!"

Suddenly, Greg balls a fist and punches Damian in the side of the head, startling Peter and sending the boy to the ground. He cries out in pain and covers his head with his arms. Greg doesn't stop there. He brings back a leg and kicks Damian in the stomach, putting a considerable amount of force into it. Peter runs around the fallen boy to stop his friend, who kicks Damian again and again.

“Dude! Stop!" Peter grabs at Greg.

“You heard what he said!"

“Yeah, he gave you some shit! You don't gotta kick him!"

“Fuck you!" Greg shoves Peter backward. “No one talks to me like that! Not you and especially not this little bitch!"

Dropping down to his knees, Greg tries to roll the weakened and crying Damian over, punching his arms and attempting to strike his face. As Peter slithers back, slowly trying to pull himself up, he bumps into something. He looks up and back, only to scream in absolute terror. Still cowering in a little ball, Damian can hear Peter's shriek. It's even more shrill than his own! Greg ceases the beating, only to scream as well. Damian doesn't dare look, curling his battered body so that he can better protect himself. Maybe Greg will start again?

As he waits in fear, looking only at the darkness of his tightly closed eyelids, Damian can hear Peter as he screams again and again. A strange sound, like a knife punching through cardboard, precedes a sickening gurgling sound. Greg shouts incoherently, then turns to run away, only to trip over his cowering victim. A loud thud a distance away, and then footfalls; the stranger approaches the bully. Greg kicks a leg, begging to be released. Damian can feel the struggle as Greg is dragged right over him.

“No! No! Let me go! Ahh! Mommy!"

His cries whirl around Damian, confusing the boy, who keeps his eyes shut tightly. Suddenly, Greg's scream grows faint, before a loud crunch makes Damian jump. The footfalls move away from him, toward the source of the sickening sounds. Damian can no longer stand it. He turns his head and carefully opens one eye, peeking out from the shelter made from his curled arms. Mr. Cottontail approaches Greg, whom he'd thrown nearly fifteen feet. Greg's back slammed into an old tree. The boy whimpers as he tries to crawl away, his legs no longer working.

Mr. Cottontail steps over Peter's body, which lies in a pool of crimson fluid. Reaching down and grabbing Greg by his jacket, Damian can hear Mr. Cottontail's claws tearing through the fabric. With its free hand, it raises it high into the air, only to taunt the boy with the claws that crown each finger. As Greg begs for mercy, Mr. Cottontail swings its hand, slashing his throat. A jet of red shoots from his neck, stretching nearly six feet. As the boy gurgles, Mr. Cottontail callously drops him onto the ground.

Turning around, the creature looks at Damian and hastily approaches. Having spent an entire afternoon with the creature, which just saved him from the bully's assault, Damian finds himself utterly unafraid. As Mr. Cottontail looms over him, Greg and Peter's blood spattered across its furry body, it seems to smile and holds out a hand to him. Damian looks at the hand, the blood still dripping from the creature's claws. Mr. Cottontail is a monster, but it feels nice when the monster is on your side. He reaches out and takes the hand.

“Thanks, Mr. Cottontail! You saved me!" The battered boy says as he's pulled to his feet. “You're my best friend!"

Taking a hand away from his abdomen, Damian leans in and throws his arms around the creature. Though startled, Mr. Cottontail slowly and cautiously embraces the boy in return. Mr. Cottontail is so warm and soft, and though it smells like a stray dog, Damian doesn't care. He's never felt so comforted, so safe. Mr. Cottontail reaches up and rests a hand on the back of Damian's head, gently stroking him. After a few more words of praise, Damian pulls away. Mr. Cottontail looks thoroughly contented. Walking hand-in-hand, the duo make their way back to town, leaving the bodies of the teenage boys to the elements. As the sun begins to set, they find themselves emerging from the woods, to the edge of an old suburb.

“There! That's my house!" Damian points to a nearby building, the upper portion of which sticks out above an old privacy fence. “I wonder if mom is home yet? We need to be careful, okay, Mr. Cottontail?"

Though Mr. Cottontail doesn't answer in words, it seems to smile and bows its head. Creeping toward the privacy fence, a seven-foot-tall wall made of half-inch thick boards, Damian leads Mr. Cottontail toward a series of bushes. Moving the bushes aside reveals a small hole. Mr. Cottontail's ears perk.

“This is where I get in and-"

Mr. Cottontail dives into the hole before Damian can finish his sentence, wriggling through the bushes and poking its head out on the other side. After looking around, it finishes crawling through, popping out of the short tunnel made beneath the fence. Damian swiftly follows behind, using a foot to straighten the bushes and cover up the hole. He brushes himself off as he stands to his feet. He looks to the left and to the right, both startled and amused to see Mr. Cottontail has already darted across the backyard and is kneeling down, feasting on the vegetables in his mother's garden. It's the final harvest of the year, and she has neglected to collect it, as she works often, sometimes pulling double shifts to support herself and her son.

“Are you hungry?" Damian asks.

Mr. Cottontail munches away on the vegetables from the garden.

“Silly question... Hey! There's more food inside, and we can get cleaned up! It's warm, too!" He chirps.

Mr. Cottontail looks back and cocks its head. It drops the vegetables in a pile and stands to its feet, responding to Damian as he motions with a hand, urging Mr. Cottontail to come closer. Reaching out for him, Damian takes Mr. Cottontail's hand and leads the creature inside. With a key hidden in a nearby bird feeder, Damian unlocks the back door. Mr. Cottontail's big, blue eyes grow even wider as it marvels at the interior of the humble home. The creature is instantly distracted however, when Damian opens the refrigerator.

Darting across the cheap tile floor, it stands before the fridge and sticks its whole head inside. Mr. Cottontail sniffs away at the contents, making Damian laugh. Finding more fruits and vegetables, Mr. Cottontail claims them. It pauses to look back, only to reach out and stab a cheese wedge with the sharp, inch-long claw of its index finger, spearing it and taking it as well. Damian takes out pre-formed hamburger patties and places them atop a Foreman grill. Mr. Cottontail pauses to sniff the meat, only to sneer and pull away.

“You're a plant eater, huh? Well, as long as you're okay with me eating cheeseburgers!" He chirps.

Mr. Cottontail flashes its strange little smile. Once again, Damian surprises himself by how readily he adapts. After cooking a couple of small burgers, all while Mr. Cottontail snacks on the fruits, veggies and cheese, he leads Mr. Cottontail into the living room. He turns on the TV and Mr. Cottontail marvels at the box, sliding off of the couch to examine the device. It looks over the box, as if expecting to see the person on the screen hiding behind it. After calling to Mr. Cottontail, the creature returns to Damian. Does it recognize that name?

Eating his meal and watching television, Damian sits with Mr. Cottontail, who presses up against his side. After finishing, Damian looks toward Mr. Cottontail, whose chest is still stained with blood. Feeling guilty over the fates of Greg and Peter, but especially Peter, Damian slides off of the couch and holds out a hand.

“Come on. We should clean you up."

Mr. Cottontail looks down at the blood and furls a brow, as though it sees nothing wrong with its current state. However, it obeys and takes Damian's hand. They walk into the bathroom, where Damian collects a washcloth. As he turns on the sink, Mr. Cottontail leans in to drink the water from the faucet, struggling to fit its oddly shaped head into the basin. An amused Damian collects a paper cup from the medicine cabinet.

“Here. Try this."

Mr. Cottontail watches with amazement as Damian collects water in the cup. Handing it to the creature, it guzzles down the water, then reaches out to refill the cup. Again, and again, it refills the cup, drinking nearly two dozen dixie cups of water. Meanwhile, Damian moistens the washcloth and runs it over Mr. Cottontail's chest, neck, hands and face. The creature is very calm and cooperative as he cleans off the blood and dirt. With Mr. Cottontail clean and both of them fed, Damian entertains the creature.

He shows it around the house, tries and fails to teach it how to play Uno, and watches more television with the creature. As the night drags on, the boy wonders when his mother will come home. She typically calls him when she's going to be late. Suddenly, he sees the headlights sweeping across the front room. Jumping to his feet, Damian urges Mr. Cottontail to follow him. The creature sees his sudden shift in demeanor. Its ears bend back, it snarls and it spreads out and flexes its fingers as it stares at the front door. It's as if it's preparing for another fight. Realizing that Mr. Cottontail is confused, Damian pleads with the creature.

“No. It's just my mom, Mr. Cottontail. She's not bad, like Greg and Peter, but she can't see you. She'll get scared. She doesn't know you like I do. Please!"

His effort pays off and Mr. Cottontail relaxes, looking back at the door as Damian leads it by the hand. Taking Mr. Cottontail to his bedroom, Damian knows that his mother will check on him. He looks around for a place to hide his new friend, only to see the sliding door of his bedroom closet. He races toward the door and opens it.

“Can you hide in here?"

Mr. Cottontail looks in the closet, and at the pile of clothes on the floor. Leaning over, it stares at his bed. Damian points a finger into the closet.

“Please?! My mom can't see you or she'll freak!" He pleads.

Mr. Cottontail narrows its eyes and sneers, but it steps into the closet and sits down on the floor. Breathing a sigh of relief, Damian promises to be back. He reaches into the closet and pets Mr. Cottontail on the head, which seems to greatly relax the creature. Sliding the door shut, he steps into the hall, just as his mother enters through the front door. Speaking with his mother very curtly, he insists that he's tired. Luckily, Greg's beating didn't damage his face, and so aside from a bit of dirt, which his mother urged him to wash off before bed, she merely assumed that he was, in fact, tired.

Returning to his room and closing his bedroom door, Damian waits for a moment before gently sliding open the closet door. To his surprise, Mr. Cottontail is fast asleep, curled into a little ball and half-buried under his clothes. Did it think he wanted it to sleep there? He scratches his head then shrugs his shoulders. He leaves the closet door open, just in case Mr. Cottontail wants to come out. Climbing into bed, the exhausted boy closes his eyes and promptly passes out. He doesn't even kick off his shoes.

Awakening the next morning, Damian sits up and yawns. He stretches his muscles and rub his eyes, only to catch a glimpse of the closet. Mr. Cottontail is gone! Jumping up, he looks to and fro, only to see that his bedroom window is wide open. It was closed and locked before. Moving over to the windowsill, he leans out and sees absolutely nothing. The backyard is empty, but the bushes that cover the tunnel that leads toward the woods have been shoved aside. Beginning to panic, Damian hastily jumps out of the window.

He races toward the concealed tunnel, glancing toward his mother's garden as he does. More vegetables are missing, including the pile Mr. Cottontail dumped on the ground yesterday evening. Scurrying through the tunnel, he pokes his head through the bushes and looks toward the woods. A knot forms in his stomach.

“Mr. Cottontail?!" He cries out. “Hey, Mr. Cottontail, where'd you go?!?!"

Damian whimpers as he pulls himself through the hole, standing to his feet on the other side of the fence which shields his backyard. He makes his way into the woods, following a strange trail in the trunks of the trees. Where these made by claw marks? They mark both sides, as if whoever made them wanted to be able to find their way back. As he races into the forest, calling out to the creature, his only friend, he turns around a large tree and stops. He no longer sees the markings.

“Mr. Cottontail?!"

After calling out to the creature a few more times, he stops and slumps against the trunk of the large tree. Just as he begins to feel the sadness creeping back into him, he hears a shifting in the brush. He jumps to his feet and turns, just as Mr. Cottontail steps out.

“Mr. Cottontail! I thought you left me!" He joyously exclaims.

Mr. Cottontail furls its brow and cocks its head. Racing up to the creature, Damian gives it a hug. Mr. Cottontail rests its chin on Damian's shoulder and embraces him, now exceedingly comfortable with the boy. Damian urges Mr. Cottontail to follow him back home, where his mother has already left for yet another shift, but Mr. Cottontail seems content to walk in the forest. Deciding to join the creature, Damian walks with Mr. Cottontail, who leads him back into the depths of the woods.

The boy speaks to the creature, sharing more funny stories about his past and asking questions that he knows Mr. Cottontail will never answer. Still, it brings the young boy comfort, and it seems to do something for Mr. Cottontail as well, who stops and looks at Damian whenever he is quiet for too long. As they make their way into the forest, they push through the brush and Damian stops in his tracks. He looks toward the bodies of Greg and Peter, mangled and bloody and drawing flies. They're too far away for him to see in detail, but he dares not look upon them.

Mr. Cottontail stops and looks back. Seeing the fear on Damian's face, Mr. Cottontail's demeanor swiftly changes. It approaches him and rests a clawed hand on his face, worry in the creature's big, blue eyes. Turning its head, Mr. Cottontail looks upon the bodies of the two teenagers, and suddenly realizes why Damian is so afraid. Looking back at Damian, it holds up a clawed finger, drawing his attention. Approaching a nearby tree, it uses its claw to mark the tree, very similarly to the markings that Damian had seen as he looked for the creature.

It's now abundantly clear to the boy that Mr. Cottontail made the markings, and that it was likely going to return when it was ready. Somehow, this eases the boy's fragile mind. As Mr. Cottontail marks the tree trunks, it seems that it's trying to draft a warning, so that they won't stumble upon the teenagers' bodies in the future. Taking Damian by the hand, Mr. Cottontail leads him around the corpses, keeping them well out of view. Once they've traversed around the bodies, Mr. Cottontail continues to lead the boy. Eventually, they reach the same small boulder and rotten tree stump that had been the creature's hiding place.

Ushering him inside, Damian climbs into the dark, damp hole. No longer is he afraid, as he's quite fond of Mr. Cottontail. Even the creature's startling appearance garners little attention from the boy. Once inside the hole, Mr. Cottontail slithers inside, following behind the boy. To his surprise, the hole is actually quite large, though he only knows by feel, and from the faint echo of his own voice. Mr. Cottontail's eyes glow a sickly pale blue as it moves through the darkness. Damian calls out to the creature but it doesn't respond. Instead, he hears it picking up several artifacts.

It begins to bang two small rocks together, creating faint sparks. The creature soon lights a tiny fire, which is just enough to illuminate and warm the depths of the hole, which Damian can now see was dug out by hand. They sit in an oblong chamber, about three-feet-tall by eight or nine-feet-wide. It's a cozy little burrow. Once the fire has been lit, Mr. Cottontail crawls up the diagonal shaft and uses a flimsy door made of sticks and loose leaves to cover the opening, before returning to the boy.

“This is some place you have, Mr. Cottontail." He remarks.

Mr. Cottontail seems to smile and crawls closer.

“Too bad you don't have a TV..."

Leaning back, Damian winces, still feeling the aftereffects of the beating he'd taken the day before. Seeing this, Mr. Cottontail gently touches his chest, a concerned look on the creature's face.

“I'll be okay. I think I just need to rest."

Lying back, Damian makes himself comfortable against the curved, dirt wall of Mr. Cottontail's burrow. As he closes his eyes, he feels Mr. Cottontail slithering closer. It rests beside him, placing a clawed hand on his chest and its oddly shaped head against his shoulder. It's surprisingly comfortable, and soon the boy finds himself falling asleep. Awakening some time later, Damian feels an urge. He looks to the left and to the right, the glowing coals of the fire still illuminating and warming the burrow. Mr. Cottontail, feeling his motions, opens its eyes and looks up at him.

“I don't see a bathroom in here." Damian remarks.

Mr. Cottontail cocks its head, as it often does.

“I'll be right back."

Crawling away from Mr. Cottontail, Damian crawls through the tunnel and carefully moves the fragile, camouflaged door. As he climbs out of the hole, he can hear Mr. Cottontail following closely behind. Finding a tree a short distance away, and concealed by some bushes, the boy prepares to relieve himself. Seeing this, Mr. Cottontail moves around the tree and stands just beyond the bushes, which act as a natural divider.

“You gotta go, too, huh?"

Mr. Cottontail flashes a little smile, then squats down. To Damian's shock, he hears Mr. Cottontail urinating.

“Oh! You're a girl?! Huh... But I didn't see, uhm..." He motions to his chest. “Well, I guess I should call you 'Ms. Cottontail', then." He jokes.

The creature cocks her head and furls a brow. Is she analyzing what he's saying?

“Don't worry! I'm still your friend! I got no one else, and you probably don't either." He assures her.

No sooner than they finish relieving themselves, Damian and Ms. Cottontail jump at the sound of a thunder clap. Looking toward the sky, it's quickly darkening. Ms. Cottontail rushes toward the burrow, gathering leaves to reinforce the door, but Damian calls out to the creature.

“Hey, Ms. Cottontail! You don't gotta do that!"

The creature looks back.

“We can go back to my house. There's food and a TV and we don't have to worry about your house flooding."

As if she understood him, Ms. Cottontail drops the bundle of leaves and approaches the boy. She holds out a clawed hand, which he promptly takes hold of. Following his lead, Damian uses the blazed trail to take them all the way back to his home, avoiding the bodies of Greg and Peter. They reach the backyard fence just as the sky turns as dark as the night. Slithering through the tunnel, another thunder clap is followed by a bolt of blue lightning. For the first time ever, Damian hears Ms. Cottontail's voice; she lets out a shrill screech.

“Hey, hey! It'll be okay! We're almost there!" He assures the frightened creature, his hands resting on her shoulders.

Looking to the boy, Ms. Cottontail gives him an affirming head nod. Taking his hand and squeezing it painfully tight, he ushers the creature through his bedroom window, which he'd left open. He offers to give Ms. Cottontail a boost, cupping his hands together and interlocking his fingers, but to his shock and awe, the creature easily leaps inside.

“Wow... Okay, then!"

He grabs onto the ledge and jumps, his sneakers scraping against the old, aluminum siding as he struggles to climb inside. Grunting as he exerts himself, he feels the droplets beginning to fall. As he begins to slip, he sees Ms. Cottontail perch herself atop the windowsill. Reaching down, the creature grabs onto his light jacket and yanks. Her strength is startling as he's pulled through the open window like a ragdoll. He flops down atop the bed, just as the rain begins to pour. Ms. Cottontail closes the window and turns the latch, further startling him. She's already figured out how to lock and unlock the windows!

Now safely inside, a thunderstorm begins to rage. Ms. Cottontail seems very nervous about the storm, but Damian is quick to comfort the creature. As they did the night before, they play little games and watch TV together. With every boom of the thunder, Ms. Cottontail burrows herself a little deeper into Damian's side. Eventually, the storm subsides, but by then the darkness has settled. Damian prepares a meal in the kitchen, while Ms. Cottontail wanders about the house. Once he's finished making himself a sandwich and preparing Ms. Cottontail a salad, he calls out to the creature. She doesn't respond, even by returning to him. He wanders throughout the house.

“Ms. Cottontail? Hello? Ms. Cottontail."

A door is partially opened. It leads to his mother's bedroom. It was the only room he didn't show to the creature during the impromptu tour the day before. Poking his head inside, Ms. Cottontail sniffs at the bottles strewn atop the vanity, in the corner of his mother's room.

“Looks like I was right. You really are a girl. You sniffed out the make-up!" He chuckles.

Ms. Cottontail cocks her head. Damian picks up a bottle of perfume and lifts the cap. He squirts the sweet-smelling mist, and Ms. Cottontail eagerly sniffs the cloud, only for her nose to twitch. She winces then sneezes, further amusing Damian.

“Aww, I'm sorry." He chuckles. “God bless you."

Ms. Cottontail lifts the lid of a container of powder, before shoving a claw into it. Damian responds by smearing some of the powder onto her furry cheeks, trying to show her how to use it. Ms. Cottontail playfully flings powder into his face. The pair play with the contents of Damian's mother's vanity for some time, with Ms. Cottontail eventually becoming covered in powder, perfume and lipstick. Eventually, the phone rings and Damian answers to hear his mother's voice.

“I'm sorry, baby, but I got the chance to pick up another shift."

“Aww, mom! When will you be home?!"

“I won't see you tonight. I'm sorry, but you know we need the money. I'll make it up to you. Promise!"

“Okay..." He murmurs.

Hanging up the phone, Damian turns to Ms. Cottontail. More and more he finds himself grateful for her company.

“Well... Looks like I won't have to hide you in the closet, tonight. When mom works late, she doesn't bother me."

As the night wears on, both Damian and Ms. Cottontail run out of steam, and after many hours of entertaining each other it's time to go to bed. Damian strips off his clothes and changes into pajamas, all while Ms. Cottontail stares at him. As he pulls back the covers to climb into bed, Ms. Cottontail pulls open the closet door.

“What are you doing?" He calls out to her.

Ms. Cottontail stops and turns back.

“I only wanted you to hide from my mom. You don't have to sleep there."

Ms. Cottontail cocks her head, but when he motions with a hand, she seems to understand. Damian climbs into bed, only for Ms. Cottontail to scramble up and flop down beside him. As he lies down and closes his eyes, he lets out a comfortable sigh. He rolls over and looks at Ms. Cottontail, who stares intently at him. Reaching out an arm, he drapes it over her, and Ms. Cottontail responds by slithering closer.

“You're like a big plushie, Ms. Cottontail."

Ms. Cottontail briefly shivers. Did his breath tickle her face? Exhausted and supremely comfortable, Damian cuddles with Ms. Cottontail as the sleep washes over him. Before he can drift away, however, he feels something. Ms. Cottontail pulls at him and nuzzles his face with her snout. Her hands grip his shoulders as she seems to push him back.

“Hhrm? Huh? What?" He sleepily asks, rubbing an eye. “Is something wrong?"

Ms. Cottontail continues to push him. He cooperates and she rolls him onto his back. She grips his shoulders and sits up. He scratches his head.

“Did you have to go to the bathroom again? You probably don't know how to use the toilet. Want me to let you outside? I think it's still wet out, though."

Ms. Cottontail leans closer and presses her face and body against his.

“I don't get it. What's wrong?"

Seemingly growing frustrated, Ms. Cottontail pulls at him, even though they're already so close. What is she trying to do? It feels like she wants to wrestle with him.

“No, Ms. Cottontail. I don't want to play anymore. Come on. I don't want to wrestle. Stop!"

Ms. Cottontail furls her brow and cocks her head. She looks thoroughly confused. Why does she want to wrestle so badly?

“It's late, and I'm tired. We can play more tomorrow." He murmurs.

Lying back down, he rolls onto his side and slips his arms around Ms. Cottontail's body, but she seems upset. Pushing one of his hands away, she rolls over and puts her back to him.

“Please don't be mad, Ms. Cottontail." He speaks softly. “We'll play more tomorrow."

Ms. Cottontail looks back and narrows her big blue eyes, but seeing his smiling face, she seems to soften. She relents and slithers back, allowing Damian to snuggle with her throughout the night. Awakening the next morning, Damian is startled by the sound of the front door slamming shut. Ms. Cottontail sits up in bed, having never left the boy's side.

“Damian? Sweetheart? I'm home!" His mother chirps.

“Uh-oh..."

Scrambling out of bed, Ms. Cottontail watches as Damian seems to become very agitated. He points toward the opened closet with his right hand and motions for her to approach him with his left.

“Come on! You gotta hide!" He loudly whispers.

Ms. Cottontail looks toward the door, her eyes narrowed and her fingers flexing. She turns toward the window, pushes open the latch and then lifts the window.

“What're you doing?! You just gotta hide!" He persists.

Seeing his fearful and worried expression, Ms. Cottontail climbs out of bed and approaches him. She looks toward the doorway, glaring at it. However, she does as he wishes and steps inside. Just as he slides the closet door shut, he hears his doorknob turning. He swiftly races toward his bed to tidy it, only to hear his mom step inside.

“Hey, Damian. Did you just get up?" She asks.

“Yeah, mom. It's good to see you." He says, darting over to her and giving her a hug.

“It's good to see you too, sweetheart. I'm sorry I had to work late. I missed you!" She softly pets his head.

“I missed you too, mom." He takes a step back and looks up at her.

“Well, like I said, I'll make it up to... What's that on your face? Is that lipstick?!"

“Uh..."

“How'd you get lipstick on your face?" She brushes his cheek with her fingertips.

“Uhm... A friend."

“... A friend?"

“... Yeah?"

“Is that a question?" She raises a brow.

“Uhh..."

“What kind of friends do you have who wear lip-AAAHHHHHHH!!!"

Damian's mother jumps back and covers her mouth as she screams. Swiftly turning around, Damian's heart skips a beat and he gulps. Ms. Cottontail has just opened the closet door and stepped out! She glares with her big, blue eyes, her tall, bunny ears swept back and her clawed fingers spread apart and gently curled. The creature gnashes her teeth and takes a step closer, the claws of her paw-like feet clicking on the floor.

“Oh my God, Damian! What is that?!"

“Mom! I can explain!"

“Get away from it, son!"

His mother reaches out and grabs onto his shoulder, yanking the boy backward.

“Hey! Mom! She's my friend!"

“Come on! We have to go!" She shrieks.

“Mom!"

Seeing the boy being yanked by his mother, Ms. Cottontail snarls, then shrieks. Her shrill cry is earsplitting, causing both Damian and his mother to recoil and cover their ears. Before the boy can say anything, Ms. Cottontail bends her knees and leaps, flying almost six feet through the air as she tackles Damian's mother. They fall to the ground as his mother struggles with the creature, who slashes at her face with her razor-sharp claws. However, Damian's mother shields herself with her arm, her thick coat protecting her. Ms. Cottontail shreds the materials of the coat as Damian cries out to them.

“Stop! Stop! That's my mom! Stop, Ms. Cottontail! Please!"

Upon hearing her name, Ms. Cottontail stops and looks back. She can see the fear in the boy's face. Jumping off of his mother, the claws of her large, paw-like feet cut into the woman's legs. Ms. Cottontail races up to Damian, who she swiftly wraps her arms around. Is this an embrace? Before he can react, Ms. Cottontail leaps, taking the boy with her. They land atop the bed, right beside the window.

“Wait, Ms. Cottontail! What are you doing?! Where are we going?!" He asks her, fearful tears running down his face.

Seeing this, Ms. Cottontail hastily climbs through the window, Damian caught in her powerful embrace.

“Wait! Don't take my baby! Please!" Damian's mother cries out.

Ms. Cottontail pauses only to look back and hiss. As the mother rises from the ground, the hideous creature jumps into the backyard. The woman races to the window, scrambling over her son's bed to look outside. Ms. Cottontail, who now all but carries Damian, dashes across the yard and leaps over the fence, before disappearing into the forest.

“NOO!!! DAMIAN!!!" She cries out.

Hours pass, but a search by police and some volunteers from the neighborhood turns up nothing. Realizing the insanity of the truth, Damian's mother instead chose to spin a tale about a knife wielding man who'd kidnapped her son. However, it wasn't long before she revealed the truth, admitting to a trusted neighbor that a creature had taken her little boy. The neighbor did not keep the confidence, and the search was soon called off. By nightfall, the entire town had come to believe that Damian had fled from his insane mother, who, overworked and without respite, had cracked under the pressure. Perhaps Damian was dead, and she spun the story in a feeble attempt to cover her tracks?

Whatever the reason, the result remains the same. She sits at home, all alone, weeping for her missing son. At nearly two o' clock in the morning, there's a knock at the front door. Her heart skips a beat. Did Damian escape the monster and make his way home?! She races to the front door, yanking it open so hard that she feels as though she might tear it from the hinges. To her disappointment, however, she finds only two men standing on her front porch. Wearing plain black suits with white dress shirts beneath, they're tall and pale. For some reason, even though it's the dead of night, they both wear mirrored sunglasses.

“Good day, ma'am..." One man briefly flashes a badge. “We would like to have a word with you about your son."

“Oh! Are you the FBI?!"

The men stand in the doorway, eerily quiet.

“May we come in?" One eventually asks.

“Yeah, sure!" She ushers them inside.

Closing the front door behind them, the men walk past her and enter her living room. They move in a strange, almost robotic manner. There's something very peculiar about these men. One man sees a picture of Damian. He reaches down and collects the photograph, examining it closely.

“How can I help you? Anything you need to help me find my little boy!" She asks.

“We heard your story, ma'am." One man begins.

“About the creature that took your son." The other finishes.

“We were wondering."

“Did you get a good look at it?"

“Of course I did! I saw it plain as day!" She exclaims.

“That's..."

“Unfortunate..."

The men look between each other and one nods his head to the other. The man holding the framed photo of Damian sets the picture aside and pulls a pair of black, latex gloves from a pocket.

“D-does this mean you believe me?!" She looks between the men.

“Of course, we do, ma'am." One man replies, slipping on the gloves.

“We'll take care of everything." The other assures her, reaching into his suit jacket.