“Who does she think she is? Always peeping into other people’s privacy,” asked Mrs Fletcher.
Just when it seemed as if Mrs Fletcher had controlled her anger and forgotten about Fletcher there was the sound of glass breaking. Mrs Fletcher turned around to see her son who had just woke up from his sleep crying very innocently over broken glass.
“I’m really sorry mum, it, it was an accident,” stammered the four year old child.
As Mrs Fletcher saw what he had broken a rage of anger spread across her face. It was a photograph of Fletcher in his early twenties.
The innocent boy ran back upstairs in fright of his mother.
She walked over to the broken glass, bent down, and started crying but suddenly started laughing wildly. She picked up the photograph and ripped it into pieces.
I hate you and your stupid photos. They’re just like you deceitful all full of lies.”
Somewhere, somewhere away from his possessive wife the guilty Fletcher was strolling around thinking about the day’s events.
“I wish I had told her the truth, but it wasn’t my fault, she didn’t even give me a chance to speak. If only I could turn time back. I wonder how she is now; will her temper have cooled down by now? How will my little Jason be? What about my adorable rabbits?”
He sat himself onto a bench. After a lot of thought he asked. “Should I go back home?”
Later in the evening while preparing dinner, the little boy came gently down the stairs and asked. “Where’s papa, mum?”
“He’s gone to work and he’ll come late”, his mum lied.
After she had served her son dinner and eaten it herself she put her young son to bed.
While she washed the plates and cutlery, she remembered her wedding day how beautiful she looked and how handsome Fletcher had looked in his navy suit.
Suddenly one of the plates crashed into the washing basin and shattered into pieces. Mrs Fletcher got a startling shock and a jolt of pain as one of the pieces of the broken glass had cut through into her skin.
As she aided her finger in the living room she saw her reflection in the switched off television. She saw how bad her face looked, pale, and dejected.
A sparkle of revenge shone in her eyes. She ran back to the kitchen and seized the butcher’s knife and headed outside in the backyard. She clutched the knife so tightly that her hand had started to bleed.
As Fletcher finished eating his dinner, Tom asked what had happened between the couple, which compelled him to leave the house. Fletcher told his best friend everything, as he never hid anything from him.
Fletcher did his best to defend his wife, as he knew he himself was the culprit even though Tom continued to criticise his wife.
Mrs Fletcher snatched the key to the rabbits’ hutch from the hanging piece of string. She snatched it so fiercely that even the string broke off. Rage spread on Mrs Fletcher’s small plump face and her heart started to thump loudly. She opened the hutch lock with the key and then banged open the door.
The four adorable Angoras jumped in fright looking for a corner to hide in as if they knew something terrible was going to happen. But Mrs Fletcher was too quick for them, quick as lightning. She caught the youngest rabbits and flung it across the hutch.
She got the butcher’s knife and showed it to the rabbits.
“You see rabbits I don’t want to do this but I have to. If he can’t be mine then he can’t be yours either. How can he be yours? You, you don’t even know what love is. But I, I know what love is. To love someone so much and in return all you want is some love back. But no all you get is lies, deceit and betrayal,” she started to scream like a lunatic.
She clutched one of the rabbits really tightly and saw the face of the other woman appearing instead of the rabbits.
“He’s only mine, only mine not yours”, she yelled in to the face.
She slashed the knife into the poor rabbit’s smooth furry body. The angora quivered for a second and then lay flat. She tossed it into a corner.
The rabbits gathered together to defend and support each other from the scary mad woman. Nevertheless they couldn’t do anything, as the killer who had killed their other companion had completely turned mad.
She grabbed another rabbit and the other pair couldn’t do anything but watch. Using the knife she killed the rabbit. Mrs Fletcher’s hands were covered with innocent red blood. She brutally murdered the third other rabbit as well.
The last rabbit gave Mrs Fletcher a hard time. It kept hopping around the hutch but finally it was caught too. After a few minutes even that rabbit lay slaughtered in its killer’s hands. She flung it into a space.
“I told you if he can’t be mine, he can’t be yours either,” cackled Mrs Fletcher.
As the brutal killer looked around in the hutch she saw blood had spattered the whole hutch. She made it look as if and intruder had broken into the hutch and slaughtered the rabbits. The sly woman took the knife carefully and washed it.
In a split second it seemed as if she’d completely forgotten everything, which had happened.
“Why am I holding this knife?” She innocently said as she placed it back. “It’s rather late, where’s my Fletcher? He should’ve been here two hours ago.”
She fell asleep on the maroon leather sofa waiting for Fletcher but to her surprise the next morning he still hadn’t come back from the show.
