A Not So Angelic Hare

In another time, in another place, a monster was born.
In a world very much like our own, created by a God also very much like our own. A place that started almost identically to this one, with the same people and places and events.
There was to be one defining moment however, that would forever separate this achingly familiar world from our own. An event that barely even registered to the people present at that time and place, but one that would define the fate of all.
One day, on a hill, some people took the proclaimed son of God and nailed him to a wooden cross. Then they left him there to die.
We know how this then plays out. About the resurrection, of how that man became our saviour, of how he had died for our sins.
In that other world however, things went a bit differently.
The man didn't come back. They took him from the cross after his passing, they put him in his tomb and waited, but he stayed in there. His body rotted.
His teachings lived on, his disciples spread his word and his story, but he did not return.
You might think that this is what happened in our world too? That his return was just another part of an endlessly retold story? No.
The reason he didn't come back in that world was for another reason, one that none there would ever know.
God chose not to forgive the treatment of his son. God chose not to return him to us. God instead, turned his back on humanity for the final time.
From that point on, he withheld his grace from the people below. He closed the gates of heaven so that no more would enter or leave.
He stopped his angels from ever coming back down to Earth.

The world continued. Ignorant of what it had lost.
History proceeded to unfold, as leaders of men still waged wars in God's name, built churches and great works in his honour, and split and argued over who was the most faithful or righteous.
History unfolded much in the same way as it should, except...
In this increasingly cold and Godless world, a monster was born.
For the world was created by God, the very life that flowed through and from it was still his very breath from so long ago. It had not forgotten him, even as it laboured on without his presence.
It remembered his angels, to an extent. It felt their absence from where they should have stood, as the pillars upholding his heavenly kingdom.
So in the space where an angel should have been, a dark and lonely echo of one came to be. A wretched shadow given form in the absence of light, somehow knowing what it should be but delighting in what it was not.
A monster was born.
It decided that it's name, should be Gabby.

Part 1

It was a cold day in January. The 1980's had just given way to the 90's and all was well in the great American Midwest.
In one particular little town everything seemed to be even better than just well. The high street was full of shops and stores, family run businesses happily serving a small local community that all knew eachother at least by sight if not by name.
The school was full of happy playing children, the surrounding forests were thick and bountiful with wood and game, and every resident that could work was gainfully employed, more or less.
Even the church was bursting at the seams each and every Sunday, as the townsfolk came to give thanks each week for the bounties of their lives.
A little slice of paradise on earth.
But not all was well and perfect here as it would seem, however. As underneath this shining exterior of happiness and contentment, lay a darkness that thrived in spite of the apparent wholesomeness.
It was what had drawn 'her' here, after all.

On this fine, chilly afternoon, a group of children were out and at play. There was no school today, but with their parents still expected to go out and work they had been foisted off on their grandparents, who in turn had sent them off to play outside until teatime.
Despite the cold, the kids had opted to break out their water pistols and hunt eachother through the trees of the nearby forest. They hadn't ventured out very far and knew this patch of trees like the back of their hands, so there would be no danger here as they went to war.
It was during the opening skirmishes of this wet and chilly war, that one little soldier found himself alone. He had held off the twins from nextdoor valiantly, but had been forced into a hasty retreat by the sudden cowardly ambush launched by the fat kid who lived a few streets over.
He had brought water balloons, which was most certainly cheating, and driven the boy deeper into the trees.
He now stood alone, clutching his weapon tightly as he wondered if it was yet safe to return to base without fear of a soaking.
It was here that he found himself being watched. He was unaware of by what at first though, just feeling a small tingling on the back of his neck where the small hairs there began to prickle.
The normally friendly trees that surrounded him began to look a little bigger, a little closer, like they were now leering over him. Their hand like branches snapping and grasping at him from the shadows overhead, despite the wind having long since stopped blowing.
Then, as he wondered if the fat kid had somehow tracked him, he saw it.
Standing just at the edge of a gap between a pair of large and hoary old trees, was a small dark figure.
Blinking, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him, he looked again. He could see it better now, as it seemed to have moved a few steps closer to him.
It looked like a rabbit. A white furred rabbit standing on its hind legs like a person, wearing a dirty looking yellow robe with a pair of big white ears sticking up from its head into the air.
It had a big pink rabbit nose and a set of pale blue eyes that watched him intently.
Behind it looked to be a pair of wings poking out from the robe, wings with feathers the colour of tarnished gold.
As he stared at it, uncertain, it took another little step forward, and raised a hand.
"Hello little boy." it said soothingly.
"My name's Gabby."
The voice was feminine, friendly, calming.
"I'm Joe..." the boy responded, finding himself oddly fixated on the strange talking rabbit creature.
She smiled at him, a big friendly disarming smile. Except...
The corners of her wide mouth seemed to be a little too wide, with the edges reaching up the sides of her white furry face well past the big blue eyes.
Then he spotted her rabbit buckteeth. The two poking out from her upper mouth and over her bottom lip.
They seemed to be slightly uneven in length, and a bit too pointy for something like a rabbit...
She took another little step closer, almost too quickly for the boy to see.
"Would you like some candy, Joe?" she asked sweetly.
"I found a big tub of gummy bears the other day and it's far too much for little old me to eat on my own..."
She clasped her little hands together and closed her eyes slightly, showing the boy a pair of dark and dirty looking eyelids. The effect almost made her look like she was wearing mascara, or that she perhaps had not slept in a very, very long time.
The boy took a step back. He wasn't some naive three year old who was going to be lured into the woods by the promise of free candy.
He was nearly nine for Christ's sake!
"What are you?" he asked, clutching at his water pistol a little tighter.
Gabby let out a ghoulish little giggle, and took another quick step closer.
"There's no need to be scared, Joe." she said happily, her smile getting even wider.
"I'm an angel!"
The boy's eyes widened as he saw her smile grow even bigger. Her whole face seemed to contort and stretch as her mouth got bigger and bigger, revealing rows of jagged carnivorous teeth, dripping with thick saliva.
"Come give AnGEl GaBBy a KIss..." she croaked, the words distorting as they echoed out from her now cavernous maw.
The boy surprised her however.
He didn't turn and flee, or collapse in fear, or even soil himself.
He just pointed his water pistol at the beast and started squirting.
The thin stream of cold water shot directly through to the back of her distended throat, causing her to gag and cough as the icy liquid swilled down into the pits of her.
Gabby's monstrous face snapped back down to size as she held her neck and doubled over. Hacking and coughing as she struggled to spit out the nasty plastic tasting water and speak.
"The hell gasp is wrong wheeze with you!?!" she spluttered angrily.
As she brought her face back up to the boy though, he blasted her again, catching her open mouth mid gasp and shooting some up her big nose this time too.
She reeled backwards, coughing and spluttering all over again.
"Cool!" shouted the boy, finally emptying his gun.
"Just like the clown balloon game at the fair!"
She spat out more water and rounded on him, determined to exact a particularly nasty vengeance from this little horror child before the day was through.
"You're gonna pay for that!" she wheezed.
The sound of shouting children gave her pause. The rest of his little pack were close.
"Guys!" he shouted.
"Come look at this weird thing I found!"
There was a time, she thought, when it would be a simple thing to just tear out this child's throat and then take her time playing with the others as she picked out which parts she would like to feast on first...
That was not an option for Gabby today however, or perhaps ever again. So instead she, turned and fled deeper into the woods to make her escape.
She would not be going without some form of punishment for the brat though...
Pausing just long enough to face the boy, she hawked and spat a glob of nasty smelling water over at him, hitting him square between his legs and soaking his lap area.
Then, she used what limited power she had available and put a small block on his short term memory, wiping her own image from his mind.
Then she was gone, loping through the dark forest with an inhuman speed that belied her small legs.
Once she was safely far enough away, she paused again to listen.
She heard the other children reach their friend excitedly, shouting as they questioned him.
Then she smiled, as she heard them start laughing.
They had spotted the wet patch on his pants. With him now unable to explain what had just happened, they were pointing and laughing at the boy who would now and forever be known as the kid who got lost and peed himself in the woods.
She cackled nastily.
She would be going without a tasty snack again for the time being, but at least she got to ruin the immediate future of the punk who squirted her.
She turned away once more, and made her way home.

---

The entity calling itself Gabby sat miserably in her little hovel in the woods. It was little more than a hollowed out shell of an old dead tree, covered loosely by a stolen old tarpaulin to keep the worst of the weather out.
The cold day at changed to a nearly arctic night as the temperature dropped sharply and a heavy sleety rain blanketed the forest.
Gabby shivered as she sat alone in the darkness, wrapped in only the thin remains of an old children's blanket, and considered her lot in life.
A long time ago, she had been a terror of all who had been unlucky enough to behold her. Feared and hated by the pitiful humans she allowed to bare witness to her dark glory.
She had moved from town to city, farmstead to hamlet, terrorising and feasting in the dark as she wished, preying on any that she so chose for both sustenance and entertainment.
Sometimes she had been subtle, creeping through the night like a thief, slipping inside the most secure of strongholds to torment kings and steal away princelings to snack upon at her leisure.
Sometimes she had simply kicked down a few doors and let rip. Letting the blood and fear wash over her in equal measure as she ripped and slashed and broke.
That was a long time ago however, and the world had moved on since then.
No longer did people huddle around flickering flames and fear the night. No longer did they chant or pray to their absent God for protection from the very thought of her.
Civilization had grown, along with technology and attitudes and superstitions.
Gabby had found in recent years that her power had waned. People no longer seemed to fear the unknown, or the dark, or even strange creatures that went bump in the night.
She thought back to the laughing child that had squirted her. He had shown no fear as she prepared to strike him down and consume him. It was a sign of the times, she guessed.
She knew that in this day and age things like television and movies existed. Flickering pictures of light that exposed the children of today to all sorts of horrors and wonders beyond their wildest dreams or nightmares.
While in old times she had stalked her victims as they slept, tapping into the things that their subconscious minds conjured and using it to truly break them as they woke.
Now though, in an age where they didn't have to use their imagination, where at the click of a button they could see and expose themselves to all sorts of amazing and outlandish things...
The boy had accepted the walking, talking hare in front of him as nothing at all that special, and she had been near powerless.
It wasn't the flesh that she sought to sustain her. It was the fear, the horror, the terror that created a crack into their very soul. She needed that little crack so that she might sink her fangs in and drink of them deeply...
Now though, she was just about surviving here in her little home. Almost powerless and starving, cold and wet.
Trapped out in the forest, subsisting by scaring squirrels and the occasional badger to death and sucking down their meager essences.
How far she had fallen...
As she brooded, she felt a tap on the top of her head, followed by the spreading feeling of yet more cold wetness.
Her makeshift roof had sprung another leak.
Shuffling over to the side a little to avoid the worst of it, she cursed.
Today had been awful. After days and days of wandering and hunting about like an animal scrabbling for scraps, she had finally found herself the perfect opportunity for a boost. A nice little child, separated from the herd and wandering all alone...
Only for him to just laugh off her attempts to scare him and force her to run away.
Gabby decided then that she hated children, and particularly that one. At some point in time she would make him pay properly for crossing her. With things as they stood now though...
She knew something had to change here. That if she didn't find a way to spread fear and horror again like in the old days, she would possibly fade away completely.
She had already gotten to the point where it took some not inconsiderable effort to even make herself seen by the boy. In broad daylight she was barely even visible to anyone that was standing right in front of her.
But how?
How could she spread fear in a world that seemingly had none left for the likes of her? If anything, the humans of this time seemed only to fear eachother rather than the old creatures of story and legend...
Then she thought of it. The beginnings of a most terrible plan.
What if she found herself some help? What if she found herself an instrument that she could use to spread terror in her name?
What if she could find a champion...

---

Part 2

It was a few days later that Gabby had found her way into the local town. Despite having set up camp only a few hours walk from the outskirts, she had needed the time to scare herself up a few squirrels and the like and bolster her dwindling energy reserves for the trip.
She was going to need all the energy she could muster for what she had in mind to do.
The little town was much as she expected it to be when she arrived. The streets were busy with people coming and going, happily waving to eachother as they went about their day. A steady stream of traffic was on the roads, the sun was out and the birds wheeled and sang in the sky above it all.
Yet as she sneaked and slunk her way through the shadows of buildings, through tidy hedgerows and behind freshly painted fences, she could feel it.
The little undercurrent of sinfulness that always permeated places such as these.
She felt it as she passed by the local hardware store. Behind the smile of the elderly owner that he wore for his customers and friends, lay the corrupt heart of a gambler. A man who had stolen every last cent from his his doddering old mother before she had passed and lost it all on bets and illicit card games.
It was all smiles and sunshine today, but after his passing his own children wouldn't be getting the inheritance they expected. Instead they would find only a long list of debts to shady people and a bank foreclosure on his repeatedly remortgaged family home.
It was a little bomb of delicious misery waiting to go off, but it wasn't what Gabby was looking for today.
As she passed the bank, she could feel the mixed waves of despair and hope emanating from the people inside.
Those already in crippling debt hoping for a loan or an extension, those hoping for a better future getting themselves into debt so that they could buy a house or start a business. Those who had lost everything already and we're working out a repayment plan for their futures.
The bank manager upstairs and above it all, oblivious to the workings below him as he slipped the ring from his finger and his hand down his secretary's blouse...
Again, another pocket of humanity's self inflicted misery, but not what Gabby wanted to see right now. She was here looking for something very specific.
While she had been slurping down some woodland critters earlier, she had also been putting some thought into her plan.
If she was going to see about recruiting a suitable minion for her schemes, then she was going to have to be careful about who she chose.
She couldn't just pick a random human and expect obedience, as even if they did somehow react to her appearing to them favourably, she wouldn't be able to offer them anything in return for their loyalty.
She certainly wasn't going to be paying them, and she was too weak now to seize their mind from them or forcibly compel them.
So she needed someone that perhaps she could corrupt, someone she could mould into the perfect instrument and instil loyalty.
She had hated to admit it, but she needed to find a child.
Even as she snuck her way through a more residential area of the town however, she realised that it still wasn't going to be an easy thing to do. As plucking a random child from its home and making off with it was probably going to get more attention than she could afford to handle.
Then there was the temperament to consider. She would ideally need to find one that was malleable, one that was healthy and capable of learning and adapting. One that wouldn't fight her at every turn and bolt for home the first chance it got.
She cast her unnatural senses through the houses as she passed, tasting the various families and children for the unique blend of flavours she desired.
She felt the mind of one boy and considered him carefully.
A strong young man in the making, already fit and sporty, a bully at his school where he enjoyed tormenting his fellow students...
He had potential, except...
Gabby could feel in the boy that he was too much a mummy's boy. His mother doted on him like he was the best little boy on earth, spoiling him rotten and indulging his every demand.
Taking such a child would cause too many problems, and weaning him off his mother would be a labour that even an actual angel would despair over.
So that was a no.
Next she felt a particularly wicked little girl a few houses over. A child that delighted in cruelty, capturing and experimenting on small animals in secret, manipulating her various friends and acquaintances into falling out with eachother for her own amusement.
Again, a potential, but she again dismissed her with some thought.
Such a child might prove agreeable to instruction from a creature such as Gabby, but she felt that the natural duplicity in the girl would inevitably lead to her turning on her mistress, which would leave the whole exercise as a waste of time and effort in the end.
Not that she wouldn't enjoy the challenge of breaking such a black spirit to her will, but she wasn't doing all this just for the fun of it and had a very real timetable to keep in mind.
On and on she crept, sensing and sniffing out the various denizens of the little town in her quest for the perfect instrument. Yet it seemed to have become a fruitless endeavour.
Each new prospect came with some fault or issue that ran counter to her needs and designs. Some were already too wicked, some that would undoubtedly break before becoming wicked enough. Others were almost workable but too wrapped up in their safe families or constrained by some physical defect or disability...
She actually began to despair.
Perhaps this had been a collosal waste of time and energy. Perhaps it was in fact time to face the inevitable...
This part of the world was beyond her ability to terrorise anymore, and she lacked the power to relocate somewhere else and start again.
Perhaps it was time to just accept it and fade away completely.
Sniff
Then, as she trudged along a little row of houses at the furthest edge of town from where she started, she smelled something. It hit her quite suddenly like a physical thing, capturing her full attention and snapping her out of her dark thoughts.
"Sniiiffffffffff*
Yes! That was it! That was just what she was looking for!
It was the perfect mix of misery, loneliness, fear...
Mixed in with the unmistakable twang of hope, that could only come from a pure little innocent heart that still believed that perhaps someone, or something, might still be out there to help them.
Quickly she zeroed in on her target, following the invisible wave of misery to one of the little houses towards the end of the street.
When she got to what was most certainly the epicenter of the it all, she found herself standing by a little house that was almost identical to every other one around it. The small garden was well kept, the exterior was freshly painted and clean. There were even some children's toys piled neatly by the backdoor, suggesting a happy family lived and played here.
Yet as she tip toed her way along the single floored property to one of the bedroom windows, she bore witness to what she had hoped to find inside.
She could see a child's room, with a little bed against the opposite wall, some toys here and there over by a little toy chest, the door to a closet on her right and the door to the rest of the house on the left.
There was a battered old television set sitting in one corner, connected to an equally battered old VHS tape player. While in the other corner...
She saw a small child, a little boy, no older than perhaps four or five. He was a skinny little thing, dressed in a pair of loose grey pants and a red wooly jumper beset with little snags and holes in it's weave. He was pale, so very pale, with a messy little mop of dark hair that looked like it desperately needed a comb.
The boy was cowering, his little arms held up meekly as he tried to protect himself from a rain of blows that had just finished.
Above him stood a man, a large brute of a man, swaying slightly as he clutched an old belt tightly in one hand and a beer bottle in the other.
The boy was silent, with not a cry or a plea to be heard from him as he pressed himself tightly into his corner. Perhaps he had learned already that crying out got him nothing but more blows.
The man took a step back, breathing heavily from the exertion of 'disciplining' his son. Then, with a last false lung at the boy, which caused him to shrink even deeper into his corner, he finally turned away and staggered back out of the room, slamming the door behind him with such force that the window Gabby was watching through rattled in it's frame.
She continued to watch, as the boy slowly and stiffly stood up. Even from outside, Gabby could feel the pain emanating from the boy's fresh bruises and weals that his father had given him.
He limped over to his little toy chest and reached inside, pulling out a little book that he had hidden safely away there.
Then, he struggled over towards his bed, placing the book gently upon it and painfully kneeled down in front of it.
The book was an old, raggedy looking bible. A gift from his mother given long ago, when things hadn't been so bad.
He began to pray.
"Dear God." He began, his voice halting and stuttering as he fought back tears.
"I'm really sorry for being naughty and making Dad mad at me again." He continued.
"I didn't mean to knock the chair over, it was an accident, honest."
He paused, doing his best to hold back his sniffling.
"Please God, please make it stop..." He wept
"Please... please can someone help me..."
He stopped then, and slowly climbed into his bed and buried his head into his pillow.
Gabby couldn't hear them from where she was watching, not with how carefully he hid them in the fabric of his bedding, but she could see his little back shake and shudder as he let the wracking sobs finally slip free.
She stood away from the window then, pondering.
Yes, this one would do, she thought. A child that she felt was balancing precariously upon the thinnest of knife edges.
On one hand, she could see where this was going. From the blunt cruelty of the father she sensed a blind rage that had found a convenient and defenceless outlet. She felt that the man wouldn't stop what he was doing until he was made to stop, or the boy ceased to be.
On the other, she could sense the potential in the boy himself depending on how this all played out.
Should some kind soul come and help this innocent and still pure hearted young child, then he would most certainly grow up to be a truly good person, eager to pay forward any kindness that he was shown.
Yet, if he was to be given a nudge in the other direction...
She could see it. The dark and swirling path of ruin that he could be led down if he had the right guide. A kindling of broken young dreams and innocence that could give birth to a beautiful flame of rage and destruction.
That pure little heart of his...
In Gabby's experience, nothing could cut quite as deep as the shards of a broken heart. Particularly if those shards were turned outward and pointed in the right direction...
She plopped herself down on the floor then, behind one of the little rose bushes lining the edge of the garden.
She had found her prize, but she needed a plan.
Simply waltzing in there and snatching the kid would mean cops, searches, attention...
Even a kid with parents like his couldn't go missing from his home without someone kicking up a fuss. It wasn't like the kid in the woods. They would have chalked that one up to a bear or something, but she'd have to be smarter here.
No, she would need to take her time. She would need to learn more about him, more about his messy little life.
She would need a way to talk to him privately, and without raising suspicion. Then once she had his trust, she would need a way to spirit him away without anyone coming after him.
The parents would have to go.

It was dark by the time Gabby had nailed down the beginnings of a plan, with the last few hours of the day stealing away as she plotted.
When she looked back in through the window, the boy was sound asleep in his bed. Apart from his little eyes looking a a bit red and puffy from his crying earlier, he seemed to be at peace.
It would seem that his father wasn't too drunk to not purposefully avoid the boy's face, and keep the bruises out of sight.
Gabby pried open the window and crept stealthily inside, lightly padding over to the boy's bed. Had anyone been watching then, they might have been forgiven for seeing a heavenly angel placing a small hand upon his brow and caressing it lovingly.
What Gabby was doing however, was working the tendrils of her dark will into his sleeping mind, stealing a glimpse into his dreams and beyond.
She began to feed, not on his life essences or his flesh, but on the information stored inside. She took in all she could of him, of his little life so far, his experiences, both good and bad, his hopes and fears...
She learned everything about him, all with that one gentle touch.
Then, finally withdrawing herself from the now shivering child, she soothed him.
"There, there." She whispered, smoothing his messy hair with her hand.
"It's going to be alright now, your angel is here for you."
The boy seemed to relax, his sleeping features growing lighter as if in response to her words.
She knew all that she needed now, and she would be ready to begin stealing him away from tomorrow.
"Sleep well, my instrument..."
"My champion..."
"My Jonah."

---

Part 3

Young Jonah Whitman was having another bad day. Every day seemed to bad now actually, if he came to think of it, but mostly he tried not to. It was better than way.
He was sitting in his room and doing his best to be quiet. Mom was at work doing her secretary job in town, which meant today he was at home alone again with Dad.
He had learned long ago that Dad days were the ones where you stay in your room and don't make a sound. Dad liked to sit in his comfy chair in front of the TV and drink his Dad drinks on his days off, and any interruptions to this sacred routine would most certainly lead to punishment.
Jonah really wanted to avoid punishment again.
On the floor in front of him he had an old sketch book, a birthday present from last year that had come with a pack of crayons. Sadly, he only had a few colours left to work with as Dad had stomped the others into the floor after he had forgotten to put them all away properly, but he was making do and drawing a nice green house with a pink roof.
There wasn't many blank pages left in his little sketchbook, even though he had been using both sides of the paper and every clear patch possible to make it last. Hopefully it would stretch to his next birthday.
He had gotten a little plastic drum kit from Santa at Christmas, but he was afraid to use that on a Dad day...
As he used up the last of his green crayon though, Jonah sighed sadly. He was getting bored. There wasn't much he could do in here quietly all day by himself.
In other times he had watched some cartoons on his little tv. He had a couple of old video tapes that Mom had showed him how to record stuff with, so he could keep some of his favourite old shows to rewatch again later if he wanted.
Sadly, that wasn't an option either anymore. Dad had confiscated the tapes to record his sports shows on, and then after Jonah had put the cartoons on a bit too loud, Dad had snapped the little antenna off the back of the tv so all he got on it now was static.
Sighing again, Jonah tried to think of other things he might draw to fill up the corner of the page. He had a blue crayon left, half of a yellow one, a bit of pink and maybe some red if he picked out a chunk or two that still lingered in the carpet from where they had been stomped...
It was then however, that a sudden sound caused him to jump in surprise.
The little tv had just switched itself on.
Blinking at the flickering television set slowly, he stared. It was just the snowstorm of endless static swirling around on screen, and the annoying hiss that went with it, but it was definitely on, and he had most certainly not touched the dial.
With no small amount of wonder, Jonah pulled himself up and walked over to the small set. Reaching out, he turned the little dial that controlled the power and switched it back off again.
That was weird... He thought.
Turning away, he softly walked over to the toy chest. Perhaps one or two crayons had fallen out the packet, leaving him another colour to work with?
Click
He spun around, and saw the tv was back on again.
This time though, the static was silent. The usual hiss that had been present just a minute ago had disappeared.
Jonah stared, feeling the first few fingers of worry start crawling their way down his back.
This was more than just a little weird.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the screen, he walked back over to the tv and again turned the dial to off. Except nothing happened.
The dial clicked, but the screen still continued to show static.
The sense of worry was growing in him now in a way he couldn't quite explain, as he had never felt anything but forgetful joy when staring at the little box before.
He did the only other thing he could think of, and pulled the power cord from the socket at the wall.
Thankfully, the screen once more turned dark.
Letting out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding in, Jonah turned away. Perhaps he could find something to read to take his mind off things...
Click
He froze, the back of his neck now prickling as the little hairs there all began to stand on end.
He turned around slowly, but was not greeted with static this time. Instead, the little screen was filled with colour.
His eyes fixed on the tv, he failed to notice that the power cord was still sitting on the carpeted floor where he had left it.
He saw a big white banner in front of a bright blue sky and a green forest, with the words Angel Hare written across it in bright red. Although, as he got closer to the screen he couldn't help but notice the banner looked more like a white bedsheet that had been strung up and written on, while the background was painted on some kind of cheap chipboard...
There was suddenly a little explosion of sound, a merry tooting of horns and strumming of harps, as the strange show announced itself.
Rather than being impressed, Jonah dived for the little knob that controlled the volume and turned it right down. He really didn't want to attract the attention of his Dad...
A strange high pitched voice followed the music, as if someone was trying to do a poor imitation of a chipmunk.
"Welcome boys and girls!" It squeaked.
"Today's the day of the first ever Angel Hare Show, just for you!"
The little banner dropped out of sight, revealing the forest in all its cheaply painted majesty. Then, from the side of the screen, a little puppet appeared.
It looked to be a badger, except it was far too fat to possibly be walking around under its own weight, and it's poorly stitched button eyes were misaligned and pointing in opposite directions.
"Hi kids!" It squeaked, in that same strange voice.
"I'm Fiend Francis! What's your name?"
Jonah stared at it, not answering but curious as to what on earth was going on.
"Uhh... Ok..." It mumbled, before turning to look up at the painted sky.
"It's at times like these, when I'm feeling scared, or angry, or really confused, that I call my good friend Angel Gabby!"
With that, it looked like something off screen shone a rather cheap flashlight towards the top of the painted sky.
"Oh Angel Gabby?" The badger called, flailing it's knitted arms around slightly.
"Oh Angel Gabby?"
Then, from up on high, the star of the show appeared.
It was a white rabbit, dressed in a yellow (but slightly stained) robe, pale blue eyes and a big pink nose. It also had what looked to be some big pink coloured toes, but when Jonah looked a little closer, they were actually blood red.
The angel descended, on feathered wings of tarnished gold, and dropped lightly to the floor next to the badger puppet.
"Hello Fiend Francis." The angel said brightly.
"I love to hear you cry."
The puppet Francis hopped up and down in place for a moment happily.
"And who's your new friend?" She asked, staring at the screen, and unnervingly, seemingly directly at Jonah.
"I uhh... don't know, Angel Gabby." Replied Francis.
"What?" She asked, turning to face the badger sharply.
"He didn't say when I asked!" He cried, flapping his little arms around in a panic now.
"I'm sorry!" He cried. "Please don't-"
The screen flickered for half a second, barely a twitch really, but when it cleared the badger was gone.
Taking a deep breath, the angel pushed on.
"My name is Angel Gabby." She said softly, again staring at the screen.
"Won't you tell me your name?" She asked.
Jonah sat transfixed, all his attention drawn to the strange angel on screen. The background was shoddy and the sound quality was poor, but Gabby seemed to almost glow with life and energy.
"Should I guess then?" She asked playfully.
"Is your name, Jonah?"
He nearly fell backwards in surprise.
"That's my name!" He squeaked, to himself rather than to anyone else.
Gabby clasped her hands together and smiled at him happily.
"Well of course it is silly!" She beamed.
"Do you see anyone else around here called Jonah Whitman?"
He froze, her words pinning him in place.
"You're... talking to me?" He asked, confused now and fearful.
"Yes Jonah, I'm talking to you." she responded soothingly.
"B-but how?" He managed, his throat going dry.
Gabby smiled again, stepping closer to the screen.
"God heard you praying, Jonah." She responded.
"He sent me to come find you, and to come be your friend."
Jonah gasped, his little heart fluttering as he took in her words.
"He heard me?" He asked, still somehow disbelieving what his young eyes were showing him.
"Yes, he did." She confirmed while nodding.
"I've come to help you."
Jonah sat down heavily on the floor, his head spinning.
"I knew he was listening..." He muttered.
"I knew he cared."
Gabby placed a hand on her side of the screen, and leaned in close.
"There are a few ground rules here that need to be followed if I'm going to keep on visiting you, however." She said.
"You can't tell anyone that I'm here, or I'll stop coming."
Jonah nodded eagerly.
"Ok! I won't tell!"
She smiled a little wider.
"Good boy. Also, it's my duty to teach you some important things while I'm here, so make sure to pay attention."
He nodded again, unsure what kinds of things these might be but wanting to know more.
"Finally, there will be times when I will ask you to do things for me." She said cryptically.
"They might not make sense to you at first, but it's important that you don't question them or answer me back. Understood?"
He nodded again.
"Good boy." She beamed.
"I think we are going to be getting along just splendidly..."
Jonah spent that evening drawing a new picture in his little sketchbook, making good use of his remaining crayons.
He drew a picture of an angel, an angel hare.
He used the yellow for her robe and her great golden wings, the blue for her outline and for her nice friendly eyes and a blob of pink for her nose. Then the crumbs of red he used for her pretty toes.
He stuck it up proudly on his wall, and was happy. For even when Gabby wasn't on the tv anymore, he could feel the eyes of his picture following him around the room.
They seemed to follow him everywhere.

---

For the first few weeks, Jonah had the best of times with his new friend Angel Gabby.
She came to him every day on the tv, regardless of whether it was plugged in or not. With a big smile and a kind word, she brightened his dreary days. They played word games, she told him stories, she praised his drawings and told him each and every time what a good boy he was.
For the first time in a long time, he had someone who seemed to be there just for him.
His mother had been increasingly absent these last months, barely seeming to find the time to come see him at all between working or going out on 'errands'. If anything, she was away from home more than she was in it.
While his father, well...
Jonah didn't have any friends his own age. He had never been enrolled in a kindergarten and had been at the lowest end of the age bracket for school, so the others in his class had all been older.
Then there was the way they treated him, always making fun of the raggedy clothes he wore or the way he smelled because no one at home made sure he had a bath regularly.
He had no one. But now he had Gabby.
She very quickly became his everything. A beautiful ray of light in his otherwise dark little world.
Yet things were not quite as perfect as he told himself, as recently Gabby had begun her 'lessons'.
At first, she had started small, with things that perhaps an outside observer might have cause to be concerned about. Unfortunately for young Jonah however, there didn't seem to be anyone else in his life that cared enough to be watching him all that closely.
It has began with a lesson on nature, on the animal kingdom as created by God and how it relates to mankind.
"Do you know about predators and prey, Jonah?" She had asked.
"You mean like lions and those deer?" He had asked in response.
Gabby nodded.
"Almost, but it's antelope you're thinking of Jonah."
The screen behind her changed, losing the drawn woods and being replaced with a very real picture of a lion.
"In nature Jonah, it's the natural order of things that there are creatures who live by preying on those smaller than themselves, that they sustain themselves by consuming them."
The picture behind the angel changed and started to move, showing the lion in action as it began to stalk a lone antelope across a dry grassy savannah.
Jonah had seen these sorts of nature documentaries on tv before, but he had always turned off rather than watching the inevitable kill at the end.
"I don't really like these shows, Gabby..." He said uncertainly.
Gabby however fixed him with a serious stare in response.
"It's important you watch this." She said, all serious now.
"It's important that you understand."
He complied. Remembering his promise to do what she asked and listen to her lessons faithfully.
He watched the lion creep up on its prey, watched it pounce on the unsuspecting antelope, watched it tear the poor creature limb from limb.
He desperately wanted to look away, tears welling up in his sensitive young eyes as the horror of nature unfolded, but Gabby's stern stare seemed to hold his attention in place.
He sniffled pathetically.
"Angel Gabby..." He whispered.
The images stopped, again showing the painted trees from the show.
"Well done, Jonah." Gabby soothed.
"You did very well watching it all."
As the boy calmed down, she continued.
"Do you know why I showed you that?" She asked.
Jonah shook his head, wiping his eyes.
"It's because right now Jonah, you are like the antelope."
He stared at her, confused.
"There are no lions or antelope here Jonah, but think of it more like wolves and sheep perhaps, like in the story I told you the other day."
She had told him the story about the boy who cried wolf, of how he lied to everyone and no one would help him when the real wolf came. Except in this version, the boy had a dear friend, who did believe him, and the two vanquished the wolf with fire and fury.
She conjured a picture of a fluffy little sheep for him.
"Much like with nature, God made man to work the same way. There are predators and prey, those who hunt and those who are hunted."
He nodded.
"Your father is like the lion, or the wolf, if that's easier for you."
At the mention of his father, he shrunk back a little.
"Where as you, are small and weak, much like this sheep."
She pointed at the picture.
"He hurts you because he is big, and you are small."
The picture disappeared.
"But this doesn't have to remain so, Jonah."
He looked up at her.
"It doesn't?" He asked.
She smiled.
"No Jonah, because I know one day, with my help, you will be big, and you will be the one who hunts."
Jonah scratched his head, confused.
"Hunt what?" He asked.
He had never thought of himself like a lion or a wolf, and had never imagined ever hunting or hurting anyone.
Gabby grinned a little wider.
"The sheep." She said simply.
"You will grow big and hunt all the little weak sheep that walk below you, just as God intended."
Jonah took this in. It didn't quite sound right in his little head, but as it was Angel Gabby saying it, perhaps it was?
As he thought on her words, Gabby watched him intently. She saw him take her lesson seriously, turning it over in his innocent young head and filing it away.
Yes. This was coming along nicely. Very nicely indeed.

---

It would be another week or so later that Gabby would teach young Jonah another important lesson.
She had been slipping in smaller tidbits of her dogma to her interactions with him already, of course. The stories she told him had begun to get darker, with the tales more twisted, the plot more morally ambiguous, and the protagonist and villain often swapping places part way through.
She taught him about some of the nastier creatures that lived in the world, of bugs and snakes that were small but deadly, of birds that stole each others eggs and types of fish in the sea that hid and struck from under the sand.
She played games that encouraged him to utilize his already active imagination, tested and improved his memory, that demanded a logical solution.
She even managed to find him some new crayons to draw with from somewhere along with some fresh paper. A belated Christmas present she told him, as she had missed the holiday so narrowly.
He didn't seem to notice or mind that most of the pack were various shades of yellow, blue, and dark crimson, and red.
As it worked out however, the next big lesson came thanks to Jonah's father.
Since Gabby's arrival, Mr Whitman had been blessedly absent from his son's day to day life. Not out of any kindness or fatherly self awareness of how his actions affected his son though. It was because Gabby had been keeping Jonah very much entertained and out of his way, so he had had little reason or excuse to take off his belt.
Today however, he would be making the effort to find his son and also to find a release for his building frustrations.

For some time now, Mr Whitman had been stewing in a particularly uncomfortable pot of his own emotions.
He was not where he wanted to be. His job was dull, repetitive, paid poorly, had no prospect for advancement, and they would only throw him a few shifts a week.
His wife worked all hours to pay the bills he couldn't, avoided him at every opportunity and only came home in time to make dinner and stay the night. He was also suspected she was playing away.
He was stuck at home babysitting a son he had no particular love for, had never even wanted, and was the only reason he'd locked himself into a marriage in the first place, instead of being out there somewhere doing literally anything else with his life.
As for today?
He'd bet a lot of money on a ball game, and lost. It was not a good start.
It was not the general lack of direction, closeness, or unfairness of his life that would set him off today though. Nor was it even the copious amount of cheap beer he had already put away through the morning and early afternoon.
It was as he made one of his repeat trips to the kitchen to raid the fridge for another bottle, he slipped. Something had given way beneath his foot as he'd walked across the smooth linoleum floor, forcing him to reach out and stop himself from falling flat on his face.
Cursing, he looked down to see a smear of waxy red across the floor where he had tripped.
It was one of the kid's damned crayons.
Then, just like that, he had found his outlet. He had a target to vent his righteous rage on, and a perfect justification for doing it.
The little shit had left his crap lying around again and he had nearly paid the price for it.
Not even bothering to grab himself another beer, Mr Whitman pulled himself up straight and made his way out of the kitchen, loosening his belt in anticipation.
"Jonah!" He bellowed, spittle flying from his lips.
"Get your ass out here you little clot!"
'Clot' was one of his little pet names for the kid. His private joke, likening him to a glob of red goo that blocked arteries and choked veins. In his mind it fit Jonah perfectly.
"Jonah!"

He was in his room when he heard his father calling for him. He had been attentively listening to one of Gabby's stories during the morning, and was now happily drawing a picture of her in his sketchbook.
He was using a lot of red on this one. Gabby said she liked it when there was lots of red.
Now though he had stopped. He had sat bolt upright when he had first heard the shouting start and he was already on the verge of panic.
Jonah knew all to well what it meant when Dad shouted like that. It meant that he had done something wrong, or was going to be told he had done something wrong, even if he hadn't actually done it. Or perhaps he was guilty of being about to do something again, and was getting preemptively punished for it.
Regardless of the reason, he knew pain was coming his way in the very immediate future.
He stood up quickly, scattering his collection of new crayons all over the floor.
Dad would be expecting him to go on out there and present himself. If he didn't, then the only other option would be for him to come in here looking for his son.
Jonah really didn't want to go out there, but he really didn't want Dad to come in here either...
What should he do?
His eyes turned to the little tv sitting in the corner. The screen was dark, as Gabby had finished her story for the morning and said she would come back for lessons later.
She had told him though, that if he really needed her and it was important, then he could call out to her. She had promised, given her word as an angel, that she would always come when he called.
"Angel Gabby?" He whispered urgently.
"Angel Gabby? I need you, please..."
For a moment, nothing happened, and he feared that he was in fact truly alone again.
Yet, with a little flicker of the screen, her round furry face appeared, smiling as usual.
"Hello Jonah." She said happily.
"I love to hear you cry!"
He was breathing faster now, panic setting in a little deeper as he heard another bellowing cry come from beyond his door.
"Gabby, I need your help!" He cried.
"It's my dad, he's angry about something again and he's going to come get me!"
Gabby stared at him, a sad look in her big blue eyes.
"I'm sorry Jonah, but I can't help you with that." She replied.
Jonah paused, eyes darting between the screen and the door.
"Angel Gabby, please!" He begged.
She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head.
"I can tell you how to maybe slow him down, and then give you some advice on how to protect yourself a bit from him, but there's no stopping him coming to get you Jonah." She said, her voice now flat and expressionless.
The boy whimpered pathetically, as the certainty of real pain coming for him again settled on him like a flock of hungry crows.
"Firstly, take that little chair you have over by your bed, the one with all your clothes on, and wedge it unter the door handle." She began.
Shaking, Jonah complied. He shuffled the chair over to the door and managed to work it right where she directed.
"Good." Gabby said, then waved him over so that he was up close to the screen.
"This will buy us a minute or so."
A sudden thump at the door made Jonah jump. Dad was here.
"Jonah? Open this door!" He roared, jiggling the handle uselessly and banging the door with his fist.
"Open this door you little clot before I knock it down!"
Jonah stared at the screen, desperation and fear painted across his little face.
"What should I do Gabby?" He cried.
"Should I hide in the closet?"
Gabby shook her head.
"There's no point Jonah." She replied sadly.
"It won't take him long to get through the door, and the closet will be the first place he looks."
Jonah whimpered again.
"She pressed her hand against the screen, as if she was trying to reach out and comfort him.
"It's okay Jonah." She soothed.
"When he comes in, he's going to use his belt again, but if you go lay in the corner with your back against the wall and your arms and legs pulled in close, then you should be able to protect yourself from the worst of it."
"I wish you could make him stop..." He said with a little sniffle.
Gabby crossed her arms and gave him a stern look.
"Remember Jonah, only you are allowed to see me." She said, repeating what she had told him at their first meeting.
"If your father sees me, then God will get angry and send me away, and then I'll have to leave you forever." She continued.
"Is that what you want, Jonah?" She asked, her tone accusing now.
"You want me to go away forever and leave you here alone?"
"No!" He cried, almost hysterical now.
"I'm sorry, please don't leave me Angel Gabby!"
She smiled at him.
"I won't Jonah." She replied.
"I promise I will never leave you alone, as long as you follow my rules, okay?"
He nodded eagerly.
The door creaked and groaned as his father began kicking it violently.
Gabby took a step back from the screen.
"I've got to go now Jonah." She said, her voice already distant.
"Be strong, and try to protect yourself. I'll be back tonight before you sleep."
With that she was gone, leaving Jonah to face the full wrath of his father alone.
When he finally got through the door, he was livid. Not only had the boy not come when he had been summoned, but he'd locked himself in his room too and forced his old man to work up a sweat getting in.
With his belt gripped tightly in hand, he let Jonah know just how displeased he was with him.
The crack of leather on skin sounded through the empty house, with the occasional thud of metal buckle meeting thin flesh and bone mixed in too for good measure.
Again however, the boy made no sound himself, pressed tightly as he was against the wall with his legs pulled up against his chest and his arms above his head as Gabby had instructed.
With each crack of the belt, Mr Whitman's rage began to subside, with each curse and spit he began to sober up. So it wasn't long before he finally stopped, breathing and panting heavily.
Without sparing even a single backwards glance at his cowering son, he turned and left. He went back to the kitchen for his beer and then returned to his chair in the living room to watch his shows on tv, leaving the broken ruins of the bedroom door forgotten, along with the the weeping child within.

Gabby watched all of this unfold in silence from beyond the dark screen of the tv. No one could see her there, no one knew.
She watched the brute beat young Jonah without mercy, watched him stand up and leave, then watched Jonah eventually pick himself up and go fetch his little bible.
Again he set it down and quietly prayed, except this time it wasn't to ask for someone to save him. It was to thank God for sending Angel Gabby to be his friend, to thank him for her just being there.
She smiled, a small little smile of self satisfaction that grew into a monstrous grin.
Her plan was progressing well. Just a few more pushes, a few more lessons, and young Jonah would be ready for plucking.
It was funny, she thought, how one stray crayon left in just the right place could have such an affect...

---

Part 4

Later that night, Jonah's mother came home.
She had been gone since breakfast, and despite having finished at work by 4pm, she hadn't returned to her family until 7:30pm.
When asked by her husband where she had been, she placated him with a story about having to work late, of earning overtime for them, about how she didn't really have a choice in the matter.
Reminding him that he wasn't earning enough himself was a dangerous gambit, prone to backfire, but today it had the desired outcome and he stopped asking.
Truth be told, she just wanted to spend as little time at home, around him in particular, as possible.
She made a modest meal of fishcakes and fries for them all, seeing as her husband hadn't deemed it necessary to cook up anything himself while sitting at home and drinking all day, and the three sat down around the kitchen table to eat together.
They sat in silence. Her husband shoveled down his food with generous gulps of beer, Jonah sat with his eyes fixed on his plate, deliberately avoiding looking over at his father and picking at his food, while she tried not to look too closely at either of them.
When they were done, she washed up while Mr Whitman went back to the tv and Jonah went back to his room.
Despite her best efforts, she had noticed the fresh bruises on her son's arm when he had reached for his drink earlier. The thick sleeve of his jumper had pulled back, offering a clear view before he had quickly covered up again.
Before bed time, she had gone to him, again in silence. She had taken the little family medical box with her.
Getting him undressed, she took in the patchwork of old and new bruises and cuts left by his father's belt. A roadmap of her husband's drunken abuses, ranging from shallow glancing blows that would fade with time to deeper cuts that would never leave the boy for as long as he lived, not physically or emotionally.
She dabbed at the fresher cuts that seemed to be mostly contained on his arms and legs this time, and applied bandaids or the odd little temporary dressing where necessary. She did all this without a word, and without meeting her son's gaze.
When she was done, she got him dressed for bed, and turned to leave.
"Mom?" Jonah called, just as she passed the broken bedroom door.
She turned to face him.
"Yes, hun?"
The boy looked so desperately sad, and she knew already what he wanted to ask.
"Why does Dad-"
She didn't let him finish. She couldn't.
"It's getting late Jonah, it's time for sleep now. We'll talk in the morning."
With that, she flicked off the light and was gone, leaving Jonah alone once again in the dark.
Sleep would not be coming any time soon tonight though. Mrs Whitman had found a small ember stirred in her breast by the sad look her son had given her that evening, and had decided to confront her husband about the day's events.
Unfortunately for Jonah, the walls were thin enough that he could hear the arguement that followed, even if he couldn't make out the words used.
After their bedroom door had slammed shut, Jonah heard his mother's raised voice, directed at his father, who yelled back in response.
They seemed to trade increasingly angry words for a while, as Jonah lay in bed trying to both listen in and block out the exchange entirely at the same time.
Then the screaming started, as both parties lost what little restraint they had and just cursed at eachother vehemently.
Then Jonah jumped, as he heard something hit the wall and smash. Someone had thrown something.
Then, after yet more shouting, he heard a loud smack. It was a sound he was familiar with. The sound of a slap.
There was silence for a moment or two, before the shouting came back at even greater heights than before.
Fresh sounds followed, the sound of a sudden impact, the creak of bed springs as something heavy landed on a mattress with force.
Then fresh banging sounded, a repetitive and forceful sound of wood knocking against the wall.
Jonah didn't know what was causing it, but he didn't like it, didn't like it or the the accompanying grunts or shouts that came with it at all. So he covered his head with his pillow and buried himself as deeply into his bed as he could, hoping the awful sounds would go away.
After a few minutes, they did. The banging stopped, the shouting and arguing stopped too.
All that remained was the sound of soft weeping, drifting in part through the wall and through his broken door from down the hall.
This continued for a little while, filling the boy with yet more fear and sadness, until that too finally stopped.
All that was left, was darkness and silence.

A little while later, as Jonah lay in his bed far from the land of blissful sleep, the tv snapped into life. The screen flickered on, and Angel Gabby was there.
"Jonah?" She called, her voice low and conspiratorial.
"Jonah, are you awake?"
Jonah stirred, pulling himself from the relative safety of his blanket and crept over towards the screen.
"I'm awake Angel Gabby." He whispered.
She didn't normally come to see him this late, and he didn't want to risk waking up Dad at this dark hour.
"Good boy." She soothed.
"I promised I'd be back to see you again today, didn't I?" She asked, smiling.
He nodded in the darkness, his puffy and tearstained young face eerily illuminated by the screen.
"It's time for today's lesson." She said, more matter of fact now.
Jonah sat down in front of the tv, his aching legs crossed beneath him as he waited obediently.
"Tell me, Jonah..." She began.
"Why is it that you think your father comes in here to hurt you?"
He knew this one, from her last lesson.
"Because he's big, and I'm small." He repeated sadly.
"Because he's strong, and I'm weak."
She nodded, pleased.
"Good." She said proudly.
"Now, can you tell me why your mother lets him hurt you?"
Jonah stared at her for a moment, his mouth moving silently.
"Mom doesn't..." He started, but he didn't really have an answer, or a rebuttal.
Gabby continued.
"Why is it that your mother is never here to help you, to protect you, or to make him stop?"
Jonah looked down to the floor, his little mind scrabbling for an answer. He had never had any cause to fear his mom, she had never hurt him, or even shouted at him, but...
She had never stood between him and his dad's rage either...
"I have an answer for you, Jonah." The angel continued.
"But it is going to be very difficult to hear, so I need you to be strong for me and listen, okay?"
He looked back up at Gabby, into her big blue, friendly eyes, and nodded slowly.
She blessed him with a big, cheery smile.
"There's a good boy." She said sweetly.
"The truth is, your mother is weak."
Jonah gasped.
"Like me?" He asked hopefully, perhaps sensing some kinship here after all.
Gabby shook her head.
"No Jonah, not like you... but worse."
The hope in his little eyes faded a touch, making Gabby's smile go a little wider.
"She's weak, Jonah, because a long time ago, she made a choice."
"Let me ask you this, do you remember back when your father first started hurting you?"
Jonah tried, but it was hard. His dad seemed to have been almost perpetually angry with him for as long as he could remember. So pinpointing the first time seemed like an impossible task.
Thankfully, it seemed Gabby didn't require an answer from him.
"Back then, when he first raised his hand against you, where was your mother?"
He again tried to remember, if she had been there or if she had been away at work...
Again, Gabby didn't wait for an answer before continuing.
"A normal mother, a true mother, would have helped you then, Jonah." She said flatly.
"A good mother would have thrown herself between you and that man's fist, but she did not."
Her eyes seemed to be staring directly into him as she spoke, as if she was reading his troubled thoughts as he tried to process her words.
"She was there that first time, and she saw it happen."
She was pressed right up against her side of the screen now, filling it completely as she spoke.
"She had a choice then, to pick you up and run, to spirit you away to safety, away from your horrible father."
The screen seemed to mist up a little as she spoke, as if her breath had become hotter and more intense.
"Instead, she chose to stay, to keep you here and let him keep hurting you."
Jonah listened, his heart hurting him as much as his bruises, but his whole attention on Gabby's words.
"She chose to be a good wife instead of a good mother, because she was weak, the kind of weakness that means she can never grow to be strong."
Jonah stifled a sniffle, the truth coming from his friend hurting deeply.
"Do you understand what I'm telling you, Jonah?" Gabby asked, the intensity of her gaze now reaching terrible levels.
Jonah nodded, the walls of his little world now closing in on him more acutely than before.
"Yes Angel Gabby..." He said quietly.
"Mom is weak and can't help me, and Dad is strong and wants to hurt me, and I'm weak and nobody loves me..."
He was so close now. She could feel it.
The first shards of his broken little heart were starting to dig in. The physical pain from the beating, the emotional pain from feeling so alone, the anguish of being told that his own mother chooses not to help him...
"That's not true, Jonah." Gabby interrupted, forestalling the boy's tears.
"Someone does love you."
He looked up at her hopefully.
She took a step back from the screen so he could see her fully.
"I will always love you Jonah, always and forever."
He sobbed then, his little shoulders shuddering as he tried to let his tears out as quietly as possible.
"I love you too Angel Gabby!" He sobbed, slurring his words slightly.
She stood in silence for a moment, letting him get it all out. When he had calmed down however, she continued.
"It it wasn't for the rules that govern how angels act, I would happily smite those two awful parents of yours." She said sadly, her voice full of bitterness and regret.
"I would make it so they could never hurt you ever again, that no one could hurt you."
He sniffled again, rubbing his eyes in his PJ's.
"I know..."
But then she was back close to the screen, her big pink nose flattening against the glass.
"But I have a plan, Jonah." She hissed.
"I have a plan on how to deal with your terrible parents, of how to set you free from this awful place..."
He gasped, his heart leaping in his chest.
"Really?" He asked, unable to contain his excitement.
"Yes I do!" She hissed.
"If it works, it means I won't be able to go home to heaven anymore either, but instead..."
She paused for dramatic effect.
"I'll be able to come here, to your world, and be your very own Guardian Angel!" She finished, causing Jonah to nearly fall over in surprise.
"Really!" He asked, his voice raising as he forgot himself.
Thud
They stopped. The bang on the wall could be only one thing. The first, and last warning from Dad to keep the noise down.
Any further noises would most certainly elicit a more direct response from him.
Jonah hushed up, his little voice barely audible to even Gabby as he spoke.
"You'll be here?" He asked, shaking.
"And you'll be my own... Guardian Angel?"
She nodded, smiling wider than he had ever seen her before.
"Yes Jonah." She whispered.
"I'll be there with you, and once I am, I'll never leave you again."
He hugged himself excitedly, desperate to shout out and express a giddy happiness that he didn't think he had ever felt before.
Then Gabby raised a hand.
"For the plan to work though Jonah, I will need you to start being strong." She said, her tone stern and serious again.
"Anything Angel Gabby!" He whispered back.
"I will need you to do some things for me too, things that will seem odd and scary at first, but important things."
"Do you understand?"
He nodded, unable to keep the excitement out of his face and smiling happily.
"Good boy." She whispered, then placed a small hand on the screen.
She waited, until Jonah reached up and did the same, placing his slightly bigger hand against hers.
There was only cold glass there, but for the briefest of moments, he was almost sure he felt warm fur.
"Now go to bed please." Gabby purred, pulling her hand away.
"We will have a lot to do starting tomorrow, so you will need your sleep."
He complied, quietly scooting over to his bed and jumping in. He couldn't see how he could possibly sleep now, buzzing as he was, but in truth he was hurt and exhausted so it wasn't long before he was out.
Gabby watched him for a while, pleased with how her young instrument so eagerly followed her commands.
She smiled, a happy little smile, as she thought about what was soon to follow. Her smile got wider and wider, the corners of her mouth seemingly splitting her entire face in two, and revealing a row of jagged razor teeth.
Yes, this was going so very well. If it continued like this, then young Jonah was going to be having a lot of red on and around him in the near future.
Gabby liked red. She really really liked red.

---

Part 5

The following morning proceeded like any other. Jonah got up, he got dressed, and he went to breakfast.
He found his parents sitting around the kitchen table as normal, in silence, sipping tea and eating cereal.
He took his own seat and poured himself some, slowly crunching away at the wheaty mix and avoiding his parents' gaze as they did the same.
He noticed two things however, the first was that his mother was already dressed and ready for work. She had an extra layer of makeup on today for some reason, applied particularly thickly around her eyes, giving her face an almost doll like artificial quality. The second thing, was that his father wasn't drinking.
The lack of a beer bottle could mean only one thing. Today he actually had a work shift to get to.
So, with both of his parents set to go to work today, he would undoubtedly be left home alone. There was nobody that they trusted to come and look after him or babysit, so he would simply be left by himself with the front door locked and strict instructions not to answer any calls or touch anything until someone got home.
This was usually a very lonely time for Jonah, and a dangerous one if you stopped to consider all the ways a four and a half year old could get into mischief left by himself for so long, but not today. He would have the day alone with Angel Gabby.
After they left, Jonah almost ran to his room, excited to see what Gabby had planned today. As he waited in front of the little tv however, nothing happened.
"Angel Gabby." He called.
"Angel Gabby?"
The screen remained blank.
As the sense of anxiety began to grow, he heard a familiar voice from out through the door.
"In here, Jonah!" It called.
"I love to hear you cry!"
It was coming from down the hall.
Quick as he could, he scampered along the hall and into the living room, the usual off limits haunt of his father, and spotted Gabby.
She was on the bigger tv set there, all bright and colourful displayed on the more powerful device that he never got to use.
"What are you doing in here?" He asked uncertainly.
"Dad says I'm not allowed to touch his tv when no one is home..."
Gabby smiled.
"It's okay, Jonah." She replied, her voice calming and confident.
"I have a special lesson for you today, an important one that we can't really do in your room."
He nodded, trusting her completely.
"First things first, I need you to go fetch something for me."
She pointed over towards the bookcase that stood against the opposite wall.
"On the bookcase over there Jonah, there's a little box, up on the third shelf."
Jonah followed her gaze, and spotted a little cigar box sitting where she was pointing.
"Please fetch that for me, would you?"
He complied, climbing up carefully and returning with the little green box.
"Okay, now open it up and show me what's inside."
He pulled open the lid, and paused.
Inside, was a small revolver, and a pack of ammunition.
"Is that a... gun, a real gun?" Jonah asked, his voice a mix of fear and awe.
"That's right." Gabby confirmed.
"That's your father's gun, that he keeps up there to play with when no one is watching."
Jonah gasped, afraid to touch it.
"But I was watching." Gabby said darkly.
"I'm always watching."
She pointed at the open box.
"Now Jonah, take the gun out and hold it up so I can see it properly."
Hesitantly, he took hold of the revolver and lifted it up and out of the box, surprised by how much it weighed in his small hands.
"Carefully now, Jonah." Gabby warned.
"Don't touch the trigger, and keep your fingers away from the pointy bit at the top there."
She cursed inwardly. That idiot of a father had left the thing in the box still loaded and the hammer cocked. One wrong move from Jonah would at best put a hole in the wall, and at worst a hole through him...
With patience, she began to direct Jonah on how to unload the weapon, so he could carefully remove the active rounds and render the thing safe.
"That's right Jonah..." She intoned, her eyes watching intently and ready to stop him if he deviated.
"Just pull that bit out, that's right, then let the round bit slide over to the side and..."
There was a clinking of metal as the bullets fell from the open weapon and into a pile on the floor, before rolling around in various directions.
"Careful Jonah!" She hissed.
"We can't afford to lose any of those!"
He fumbled with the gun as he panicked, causing the trigger to pull and the hammer to click forwards with a loud snap.
Thankfully, the rounds were on the floor, rather than one now being through the tv screen...
"Quickly now, pick those up and put them on the table."
He scrabbled about on the floor for a moment, bumping his head painfully on the aforementioned table, before coming back up with six shining bullets.
"Very good." Said Gabby with a relieved sigh.
"Now, put the gun back together like it was at the start, but without the bullets, and then point it over there."
He did as she said, clicking the round bit in and pulling the hammer back, getting oil all over his little fingers in the process.
He pointed the gun at the wall, his hands shaking as he tried to hold the thing steady.
Gabby nodded appreciatively.
"Very good, Jonah."
She let her eyes close slightly, showing her heavy black lids.
"Now, see the picture of your father over there?"
He did.
"Aim at his picture, and pull the trigger."
Jonah paused, looking at Gabby in confusion.
"Huh?" He asked.
She pointed at the picture, her features stern.
"You heard me Jonah, aim at your father's picture and shoot."
He slowly aimed at the photo, but didn't shoot.
"I don't think I..." He began, but Gabby had no patience for backtalk today, it seemed.
"I gave you an order, Jonah." She said quietly.
"I thought you promised to do what I asked of you?"
He gulped, and blinked his eyes a few times as he tried to focus on his target.
It was just a game, right? There weren't any bullets in the gun, so it was just a part of Gabby's lesson, right?
Stiffening, as if anticipating the bang that would not come from an empty gun, he squeezed the trigger.
Click
Nothing happened, as the gun was indeed empty.
His hands shaking, he lowered the weapon.
He turned back to Gabby, but she didn't look pleased.
"Why did you hesitate, Jonah?" She asked.
He looked down, feeling ashamed.
"I'm sorry Angel Gabby." He murmured.
"I don't think I like guns..."
She sighed.
"I don't like guns either, Jonah." She agreed.
"But part of my plan for getting you out of here, is going to require the use of one."
He shivered as her words sunk in.
"You mean..." He began to ask, wavering slightly.
She nodded.
"The only way we are going to get you out, is if we can remove your father from your life. Permanently."
He nearly dropped the gun.
"You want me to..."
She held up a hand.
"I'd do it for you Jonah, in a heartbeat, you know that." She said, her eyes intense once again.
"But I can't, not while I'm like this."
She gestured to herself inside the tv screen.
"Once you have removed your father however, then the path will be open..."
He blinked.
"You mean if I shoot my Dad, then you will be able to come here?" He asked, his voice wavering.
She nodded.
"Yes Jonah." She confirmed solemnly.
"With this sacrifice, I will be able to cross over and take my place as your true Guardian Angel."
She seemed to glow a little brighter as he watched, her arms spread wide as if she was about to reach out and embrace him.
"Then I can help you Jonah, I can work to make you big and strong, I can stay with you forever... but only if you start by doing this one thing."
He looked back at the picture.
"But... he's my Dad..." He muttered miserably.
Gabby let a little chuckle slip out, one she quickly silenced.
"Remember what he's done to you Jonah." She spat, regaining her composure.
"That man has kept you locked in a prison of fear, and it's time to set yourself free!"
Still, she felt him hesitate.
He was almost there... but something was missing, it seemed.
She had a thought.
"Perhaps the problem, my sweet Jonah..." She purred.
"Is that you have been so lost in your fear of this man, you have yet to find your anger, your rage..."
She looked inside of him then, flipping through the now familiar pages of the book of Jonah, searching out what she needed.
"Perhaps it would help if you thought of it this way." She began.
"Close your eyes." She commanded, and he obayed.
"Now, in your mind, think back to the times he hurt you, to the times he humiliated you, the times he took or broke your things..."
He did, and she felt the painful little memories flitter through his young mind. His natural impulse was to turn from them, to run, hide, protect himself...
Instead, she reached out and grabbed them with her dark will, pinning them to the very forefront of his conscious mind and forcing him to confront them.
"Think about these things he did, about the injustice of it, of how angry they should make you feel..."
She used her influence then to intensify the memories, used her words to strike a little spark of anger in his pure but damaged young heart.
Then she began to fan that spark into an ember, and that ember into a flame.
"He might be big and you small, but with this you can take your first steps as the hunter, the lion or the wolf."
She saw his face twitch, as the unfamiliar feelings began to grow and take root in him.
"Now, Jonah." She commanded.
"Take those feelings, that anger you feel, and bury it."
He looked at her, confused once again.
"Imagine a little box." She said, her voice thick with meaning and emotion.
"Imagine a little box deep, deep down right in the core of you, and pour all that anger you feel inside."
She felt him do it, she felt him focus his newfound anger into a small point and contain it, just as she asked, and with her subtle influence helping him along.
"Now bury that box Jonah, keep it full to overflowing, but buried safely away until you need it."
He was concentrating so hard, she saw. Focusing on her words as she poured her wicked will into him, as she guided him along the path she had chosen for him.
"Anger can be a mighty weapon if controlled properly." She said, feeling a sense of pride for the boy now.
"When you need it, it can be there at your call to let loose, to strike at your enemies and wash away your doubts."
She was pressing hard against the big tv screen now as she watched Jonah process all this, pressing so hard that the very casing of the set seemed to creak and bulge.
"Now, Jonah, point the gun at your father again, and pull the trigger for me."
He pointed the gun once more, his hands still shaking.
"Open the little box, Jonah!" She commanded.
"Let those feelings guide you when you look at that man, and make him pay!"
With a little cry, Jonah pulled the trigger.
Click
Then he pulled it again, and again, and again.
Weeping openly now, he kept shooting. Each pull punctuated with a sob or a cry, as years of fear and frustration came to a head in him.
Then Gabby's voice cut through the cloud enveloping his thoughts, calling him back.
"Enough, Jonah." She whispered.
He dropped the gun to the floor, sobbing heavily.
"Hush now Jonah." She soothed.
"You did it, just like I asked... I'm so proud of you."
He turned to face her again, the tears again running freely down his cheeks.
"Come here." She commanded, opening her arms wide across the screen.
Jonah lurched over, wrapped his hands around the television and hugged it for all he was worth.
The image of Gabby on screen soothed and comforted him, whispering into his ear and doing her best to make him feel safe, even if she couldn't touch him.
"It's okay, Jonah. I'm here."
"You're such a good boy, a strong boy, my special little champion."
"Just a little longer, just a little bit more, and we'll be free, together forever."
"I love you my sweet Jonah, like no one else ever could..."
"Your angel loves you Jonah, always, and she's so very proud..."

---

Mr Whitman was the first one to get home that day. His shift had ended earlier, but rather than go straight home to check on his son, he had stopped at the bar first for a quick drink (or two) with the guys. He had earned it, so why not? The little clot could wait another hour or so.
When he got home, it was silent. It was already starting to get dark outside, but all the lights were off and there was no immediate signs of Jonah.
Perhaps the brat had broken something and was hiding in his closet again...
Luckily for the boy, Mr Whitman was too tired today to teach him a lesson, so he'd just let him hide for now. At least he would be out of his hair for the evening...
Dropping his keys, he flicked on the living room lights and kicked off his shoes. His plan was to grab a beer and collapse into his favourite comfy chair until his so called wife got back and made dinner, but as he trudged towards the tv, he stopped.
Sitting on the little coffee table next to his chair, was a little green box. A cigar box. The one where he kept his gun.
Looking at it, he saw it was open, and that his gun was missing.
An icy claw seemed to grip his spine, sending a cold shiver of dread through his booze numbed body.
Checking around the box and the floor under the table, he thought of only two possibilities.
Either there was an intruder here in the house now in possession of his gun, or...
Or Jonah had found it, and taken it.
Neither possibility was particularly preferable over the other.
The door had still been locked though, and there was no sign of forced entry through any of the windows he could see or from the kitchen.
This suggested that Jonah might have it...
There was only one way that Mr Whitman knew on how to deal with his son. So, taking a deep breath, he began to shout.
"Jonah!" He yelled angrily.
"Get out here right now!"
Then he waited.

Sitting in his bed, Jonah had heard his father come home.
He was oddly calm. His hands had stopped shaking as he clutched the gun in his small fingers, and the tears had long since dried upon his thin cheeks.
Gabby had been talking to him almost constantly since her lesson, and her instruction on how to operate the weapon.
She had pressed herself against the screen, telling him all about the life they were going to have together. She told him about the wide open world, about all the strange things and places she had seen. She whispered stories about the people she had seen too. About all the bad people like his Dad that wandered about doing as they liked that she had been powerless to stop.
Gabby had told him about his destiny, about how he was to walk the world and become God's earthly instrument. About how he would be like a superhero from the comic books he read, stopping the wicked and protecting the good.
All of this he would do with Gabby, his Guardian Angel.
She would protect and support him, love and guide him. He would never be scared or alone again. Gabby would help him become big and strong. She would teach him how to hunt.
She said that they would start on the smaller, weaker things, and then work their way up.
All he had to do today, was one little thing. All he had to do, was shoot his Dad.
He shivered again.
It was then that the tv flicked on once more. Gabby had left him for a short time, to 'make some preparations' she had said, but now she was back.
"I'm here, Jonah." She whispered.
"So is your father, I see."
He nodded, his throat too dry to speak.
Gabby sensed his nervousness.
"It's okay Jonah, I understand you're still feeling scared."
He smiled weakly. Gabby always understood.
"So I got something that I think will help you."
She pointed behind him, to a spot on his bed.
He turned curiously, and found a small package sitting upon his blanket that hadn't been there when he had sat down.
With reverence, he lifted this strange gift from Gabby, and removed the brown paper covering it.
His breath caught in his throat as the item inside came free, perfectly visible even in the limited light coming from outside the window.
It was a mask. A beautiful white mask of Angel Gabby's face made of wood, complete with big hare ears, freckled cheeks and a big happy smile.
He turned back to Gabby, hugging the mask tightly to his chest.
"Gabby, is this really for me?" He asked, nearly overcome with emotion.
She nodded, matching the smile in the mask with one of her own.
"I know it might be tough, facing your father out there with me still trapped in here, but..."
She pointed at the mask.
"Through that, it will be like I'm right there with you, and to your father it will be like he's facing us both together."
Jonah beamed her a happy smile, and slipped the mask over his face.
"You will also be able to hear my voice through the mask, something only possible for those with the most pure of hearts..."
Her voice seemed to come from inside his own head, causing him to gasp in astonishment.
"Thank you so much Angel Gabby!" He gushed.
"You thought of everything..."
Gabby smiled. He had no way of knowing she could leave the tv whenever she wanted, or that she would be invisibly following him as he confronted his father.
But she felt he needed to feel she was there with him, he needed that bit of support to take this final step across the line of no return.
"Jonah!" Boomed a voice from down the hall, shattering the moment.
"Get out here right now!"
Dad was calling.
Gabby gave Jonah a final nod before the screen went dark for the final time.
"You can do this Jonah." She said simply.
"I'm so proud of you."
Wearing his Gabby mask, and clutching the gun tightly in his hand, Jonah marched out to go meet his father.

Mr Whitman was waiting in the kitchen. In part, because the backdoor was an obvious point of escape should things go wrong, and also because he had really needed a beer from the fridge to settle his nerves.
Pacing back and forth furiously, it took him a moment to realise that Jonah had arrived.
His son stood at the threshold, wearing his normal red wooly jumper and grey pants, but also an odd white rabbit mask.
In his hand, was the missing gun.
Mr Whitman rounded on him, hoping a demonstration of strength and his usual bullying demeanor would solve this problem as it had every other one.
"Alright you little clot!" He barked.
"That is not a toy! Give it here right now or I swear to God that I will not be responsible for what happens next!"
The boy remained still.
Perhaps he was too afraid to move...
He decided action was perhaps the best option here. If he was frozen there then the only thing to do was move quickly and just take the thing from him before this escalated. Then he could give him the hiding of his life for going through his father's things and messing with a gun.
But as he tensed, ready to pounce, something stopped him.
Jonah giggled.
It was a small thing, but it threw him almost completely through a loop.
"Did you just... laugh?" He asked the boy incredulously.
Jonah giggled again.
"He said God help him..." He laughed, as if speaking to someone else in the room.
Before he could regather his wits however, Jonah raised the gun and pointed it right at him.
Staring down the barrel of that gun, clutched in his young son's hand, Mr Whitman felt something he had never experienced before.
He looked at Jonah in his bunny mask, and felt the first pangs of fear.

Jonah stood facing his Dad, gun held firmly in his hand, and pointed it menacingly.
His heart was beating wildly, he could hear every beat thundering through him. His brow was dripping sweat under his new mask, and his palms were slick, threatening to loosen the grip on the revolver.
He was scared, so very scared.
Yet there was a pervading sense of calm that held him firm, a sense of wellness and confidence and love.
It was coming from the mask. It was coming from Gabby.
Her little voice echoed inside of him, soothing him.
"You're doing so well Jonah." She whispered.
"Just a little more..."
His Dad had both his hands up now in response to the gun aiming at him.
"Calm down there Jonah." He said firmly.
"Just put that down, and I promise you won't get in any trouble..."
"He's lying, Jonah." Gabby whispered.
"If you let him go, he's going to take it from you and hurt you again."
Jonah knew this, not just because Gabby always told the truth, but because he saw it in Dad's eyes.
He knew spiteful rage when he saw it.
"I think it's time you made him feel afraid for once." Gabby urged.
"It's time for him to feel small."
Jonah nodded, agreeing completely.
"Aim for his knee, Jonah."
"Put one in his kneecap so he can't get away."
He pointed down, hesitating only for a second, and fired.
The gun nearly leapt from his hand as it went off, the flash nearly blinding him and the smell of cordite causing him to gag.
It was a good shot though, as Mr Whitman's knee exploded in a shower of red and shattered bone.
He dropped to the ground, screaming and clutching at his wounded limb in horror.
Jonah watched, numb, both his arm from firing and his senses from the shock. If this has been any other time, place, or situation, then he would have dropped the gun then, horrified.
But this was not any other situation, and Gabby was here with him.
Her voice calmed him, rippling through the horror he saw and annulling it.
"It's okay..." She whispered.
"You're doing so well."
For her part, Gabby was ecstatic. The shot had broken Mr Whitman's resolve like a hammer to a raw eggshell, flooding him with pain and fear.
Fear is what she fed on, fear caused by her, or by something she had caused to happen.
She drank deeply of his pathetic little heart, feeling a surge of power and energy that she hadn't felt for years. The kind of power that didn't come from terrorised squirrels or wild dogs driven mad.
"Ohhhh....." She moaned.
"Oh Jonah, you're making me so very happy..."
Jonah trembled as a little shock of pride ran through him. He didn't quite get what she was moaning about, but he was so glad that she was happy...
"Now..." She breathed.
"It's time to finish him off Jonah, finish him so we can finally be together properly, together forever!"
His Dad had started to crawl towards the backdoor, weeping and moaning as he reached up for the handle.
As he tugged on it however, he found it locked. The key he had put in just a minute ago to make sure he had an escape ready, had mysteriously vanished.
He turned over, a pool of blood forming by his ruined knee as he faced his son.
Jonah stood over him now, the only visible expression from him was a pair of cold dark eyes, and the eerie smile plastered across the bunny mask.
"Jonah, please!" He begged, but his words went unheeded.
Jonah could only hear another voice then, whispering insistently from inside the mask.
"Do it." It commanded.
"Open up the box and let it all flow free."
"Do it Jonah, do it for me!"
Mr Whitman screamed, but it was quickly cut short by the loud crack of a revolver. Then there was another shot, and another. Three more followed before silence fell on the Whitman household.
The last thing he saw before life left him completely, was the masked face of his son staring down at him, and a hideously grinning winged spectre hovering just behind him.
Then, he knew no more. Only darkness.

---

Later on that evening, Mrs Whitman returned home. Once again she had left as much time as possible before coming back. Despite knowing her son had been here alone all day, and that her husband would most certainly be home long before her and alone with the boy, she just couldn't bring herself to get back here any sooner.
When she got in however, she knew something was terribly wrong.
The house was dark. Night had fallen hours earlier, but every room was dark. There was also an odd coppery smell in the air, with a strange burning smokey stink along with it.
She flicked on the living room lights, but saw no one. Yet as she ventured further inside, she nearly tripped over one of her husband's work shoes.
So he must be here at least, she thought.
She called out to him, and then to her son, but no one answered.
She made her way to her son's room, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach telling her something she had long feared had come to pass.
Yet the room was empty. There was no Jonah, no nobody.
She went room to room, calling for an answer, but each flick of a light switch revealing only another empty room, each call met with silence.
The kitchen was the last place that she looked.
As she flicked the switch, she was met with a scene of horror.
The floor was drenched with blood. A huge pool had spread across the linoleum floor from the prone figure by the backdoor.
She put her hands to her mouth and screamed. She had found her husband.
Dropping to her knees, she crawled over to him, patting at his now cooling flesh as she sobbed and cried, desperately feeling for a sign of life.
She would find none. Not in this house.
As her fractured thoughts turned to Jonah again, something politely coughed behind her. Spinning around, still on her knees, she looked up to see something standing on the kitchen table, where just that morning her broken little family had been eating breakfast.
On that table, stood a rabbit, or a hare, dressed in a yellow robe and with a pair of large golden wings stretched out behind it.
Mrs Whitman made to scream again, her already aching throat trying desperately to screech out another call of surprise and despair.
Yet nothing came.
Instead, she found the creature staring directly into her eyes, it's own pair of large and almost cartoonish pale blue ones freezing her very blood.
Something awful lurked behind those eyes, something beyond even that of her most terrible of nightmares.
It was all she could do right then, to reach to her neck and clutch the little gold crucifix she wore there tightly in her hand.
"Hello, Mrs Whitman." The hare said, in a very polite and gentle voice.
"What are you?" The terrified woman responded, her voice now free.
It chuckled to itself, keeping it's gaze fixed on her.
"That doesn't matter now, not to you at least." It responded.
"I just wanted to thank you." It said, smiling widely.
"F-for what?" She asked, fearing the answer.
"For young Jonah, of course." It said nastily, revealing a few sharp fangs from beneath its white furry lips.
"Jonah?" The woman asked, alarmed.
"Where is he?" She demanded.
"Where's my son?"
The thing laughed, hands clutched to its stomach as it bent over double giggling away to itself.
"Your son?" It asked.
"I think you'll find that he's mine now... mine all mine!"
Mrs Whitman tried to stand, but her legs seemed to have turned to jelly under the thing's gaze, and she was powerless to move.
"With all you allowed to happen to the boy, you practically gift wrapped him for me!" It boasted.
"I'm going to take him away now, and make him grow up to be all big and strong." It said, giggling again.
It's smile had grown wider now, it's maw opening wide.
"We are going to have so many wonderful adventures together, and he is going to draw me so many pretty pictures in red everywhere we go..." It said, looking meaningfully down at the pool of sticky ichor around the sobbing woman's knees.
"No, please..." The woman cried, but it was far too late now for that.
"Don't worry." It teased.
"I'll still take better care of him than you ever did, I am his 'Guardian Angel' after all."
Even as the woman sobbed and wailed, the creature calling itself Angel Gabby reached out with it's now once again powerful will, and seized the broken heart of Jonah's mother.
It drank deeply of her, just as she had done the father, but stopped short of draining her dry.
She had a job for Mrs Whitman. One last useful thing she could do.
She placed the instructions into the woman's broken mind, setting out what she was to do. She was to take the gun left in the floor, wipe it and the spent casings inside of fingerprints, and put it in her bag.
Then, she would take the spare can of petrol from the car her husband once drove, and spread the contents around the house. She would take extra effort to douse any and all pictures, documents, and anything else she had there containing any mention or description of Jonah.
After all that, she would set the place ablaze, and wait outside for the inevitable arrival of the authorities.
With this done, Gabby left. Fluttering out the door on her newly restored wings, she flew off to find her Jonah, who was patiently waiting for her by the edge of town. He had his little bag already packed with warm clothes and his crayons.
Before they left, Gabby would make sure there was an accident at the town hall. More specifically, where they stored all the physical documents relating to Jonah and his family.
She would also be visiting the dentist and hospital, making sure that they suffered similar fiery accidents to their records departments.
By the time she was done, she would make sure there was no record anywhere of Jonah Whitman, physical or electronic. The police would find his mother outside their burnt down home, and assume she had killed her husband after years of abuse.
They would want to know where the boy was, of course. But beyond the vaguest of descriptions from neighbours who barely saw him, or from school kids and teachers who only remembered brown hair and the smell, there would be nothing to help them look. There would be no photo to print on a milk carton, no records to check against the national database, not even a birth certificate to prove he had ever lived outside of memory.
They would quiz his mother. Ask where her son was, what had she done with him? Had his father done something? Was that why she killed him?
She would never speak again however. Her mind had been left hollow and broken, never again to understand or respond. The only reaction she would ever show until the day she eventually died, was an uncontrollable fit of hysterical screaming, should she ever see a picture or image of a little white rabbit.

---

Epilogue

It had been nearly thirty years, but once more Joe was out in the forest with his friends.
After a life of working hard and hardly working, he had decided to reconnect with some of his old buddies and go camping out in the woods.
There was only a few of them here now, a far cry from the mob that had met to blast eachother with cold water on that icy January day, but it was nice to reconnect with some old friends under the trees with some beer and a campfire.
There was Joe, Frank (formally the fat kid but now a fitness nut), one of the surviving twins Len, and their other friend Jeb.
The other of the twins had passed a few years back after joining the army and heading off to a real war. They would be raising a bottle tonight in his memory.
One of the reasons that Joe had chosen to hold this camping trip however, was to confront an old horror that had haunted him since that day all those years ago. A bit like those kids from that Stephen King book, with the clown.
It wasn't some spooky monster though, but rather the memory of him apparently pissing himself that day and everyone pointing and laughing at him...
The names and jokes had followed him all the way to college.
So, he had decided to come out here and spend the night. To exorcise those old demons with some friends and finally move on from it. If he could, he would like to associate these old trees with happy memories again, rather than just that one bad one.
He and his friends sat around the little fire and laughed, drank, and laughed some more. They recounted old stories, shared new ones from their lives, and hopes for the future.
As they laughed however, Len decided to bring the jovial mood down a notch.
"Hey, are you guys sure it's okay to be out here camping like this?" He asked, his cheeks already rosy from the drink.
"Whattya mean?" Slurred Jeb, something of a lightweight, even with light beer.
"You know..." Mumbled Len, his voice lowering conspiratorially.
"With all them murders they keep talking about in the news... the ones that they say keep moving around from state to state." He responded.
"They say they might be heading back this way soon..."
The others scoffed.
"That's just an urban legend!" They laughed.
"Like Bloody Mary, or the Wolf man!"
"Nah man, it's true, I swear!" He insisted.
"I know a guy where I worked before, said a whole family got wiped out a year or so ago while out camping by the lakes... total bloodbath."
The others dismissed him.
"Alright, I'm just gonna go drain the snake." Joe mumbled, then cursed himself.
*Make sure to unzip first bro!" Shouted Frank.
"Fuck you Frank!" He yelled over his shoulder, to the roaring laughter of the others.
Behind a tree nearby, he unzipped and let his bladder empty itself. It was already dark, but the light from the fire just about reached out here so he wouldn't have any trouble finding his way back.
As he looked about him though, he saw something.
Just at the very edge of where the light lost out to the oppressive dark, he thought he saw a small figure.
A flash of white fur, yellow, a large toothy grin...
Then it was gone, just another flickering shadow in the dark old wood.
Finishing, he zipped back up and went back to the others. He had already convinced himself that he hadn't seen anything, just a mix of alcohol and swaying tree branches. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling of deja vu. The feeling that he had seen this before...

---

A little way away, sitting alone in the dark, was a large man.
He was sitting on a fallen tree, dressed in a mix of raggedy clothes that seemed to be both a mess, but also perfect camouflage among the dark green and browns of the dark forest.
His most defining feature however, was the old wooden mask that he wore over his face. It was scratched, chipped, the white paint was faded and grey, and one of the long ear shaped protrusions from the top of it seemed to be missing an inch or two. It was still recognizable however, as the smiling face of an angelic cartoon hare.
Despite the near pitch blackness around him, he was busy sharpening a long machete blade with a well worn whetstone.
With each scrape, he honed the edge of his chosen weapon to perfect hairsplitting perfection. Angel Gabby had told him that there were sinners lurking out in these woods, that they were trying to hide from her divine judgement. It would be his job to hunt them down, and send them screaming into the abyss where they belonged.
He had been doing it for a very long time now, and he had gotten very good at it.
All thanks to his Angel Gabby.
As if his very thoughts summoned her, she was there, lightly dropping down on the ground before him.
"I found them!" She hissed urgently.
"One if them in particular is of special interest to me, Jonah." She continued.
"A particularly wicked sort that got away from me a long time ago... so I want you to keep that one alive, and bring him to me directly."
She grinned, rubbing her hands together in anticipation.
"I'll judge that one, personally..."
"It will be done, Angel Gabby." The man replied reverently.
He didn't seem to be moving fast enough for Gabby however, and she tugged at his sleeve impatiently.
"Hurry up you big lug!" She grumbled.
"I don't want them getting away!"
As she pulled however, his hand slipped, causing the murderously sharp blade to slide across the palm of his other hand.
The big man grunted in pain as blood gushed thickly from the wound.
He made no other sound though. As long ago, young Jonah had learned to meet pain with all the silence he could muster.
Gabby stopped pulling, staring at the wound as Jonah began pulling a rag from his pocket to cover it.
"Jonah, I..." She began, her eyes following the flow of blood.
She reached out and stopped him before he could cover it.
"Please, let me." She whispered.
With great care, she gently took his big hand in both of her smaller ones and bent over it.
Her long tongue slipped out, and she began to lick the wound clean.
Again Jonah grunted, but he didn't pull away, and he let her continue.
Once she had gently licked every last drop of blood from his hand, she planted a small kiss on the cut, then watched as it knitted itself closed.
She turned to face him then, her lips stained crimson by his blood, like an infernal lipstick to match her unnatural mascara.
"I'm sorry, Jonah." She said sadly.
"I allowed my impatience to get the better of me, and caused you to get hurt in the process."
Jonah grunted.
"It was nothing." He muttered.
"Thank you for fixing it."
She sighed, sitting herself down next to him and resting her head gently on his bulging arm.
"That's one of the many reasons that reminds me why I love you so." She whispered, closing her eyes.
"You have such a big, forgiving heart, with such boundless capacity for kindness..."
"Anything for you, Gabby." He responded quietly.
She rubbed her cheek dreamily against his arm for a few seconds, happily lost in the moment and the dark, with her champion.
Then, she sprung up upon the fallen tree and stood on her red fluffy tip toes.
Reaching up, she lifted the wooden mask up and away, revealing a rugged, stern face that was framed with a mop of dark brown hair and a bushy unkempt beard.
Delicately, she planted a deep kiss upon his lips, smearing him with his own blood as she partook.
Breaking the kiss and breathing heavily, she pulled away, dropping the mask back in place.
"Let's get going." She said, hopping off the tree and leading the way.
"We've got a group of sinners to deal with, and then there's a nice tent and a warm campfire we can curl up next to together afterwards..."
"Yes, my angel." Responded Jonah.
His voice betrayed no emotion as he followed her, his big steps making no sound as he passed over fallen leaf and twig.
He had travelled far and wide in service to Gabby, seeing many strange and unsettling things, meeting terrible people and monsters in a person's shape that put even the long dead figure of his father to shame. He had weathered it all however, and would go through so much more in the months and years to come.
It was all worth it though, just for these moments where it was just him and Gabby together.
She had promised that she would stay with him forever, that he would never be alone or afraid again.
She had delivered.
So Jonah would follow her, and be her instrument and champion, for now and forever.
For she was his Guardian Angel, and he was her Jonah.