One ear missing, covered in blood and broken glass, it had been tossed clear of the now smoking heap of twisted metal that had once been a small family’s SUV. I don’t know why I bent down to pick it up–maybe it reminded me of a stuffed animal I had had as a kid or something.
I stared at it; my thoughts wandered off on a tangent. Had the little girl in the back seat been holding it when the car had smashed into the the tree? Was it her blood? Did she even know what had happened? Or had it been too quick? My mind drifted off into introspective reverie. I carried the little pink bunny to my work truck and stuck it in the passenger seat.
Now I knew I would have to figure out how to get the crushed remains of the SUV on the back of my truck so I could haul it off the road.
“Hello?” came a voice.
I started, looked around, but saw nobody. The police had left with the paramedics. I was alone.
“Hello?” the voice repeated.
I looked down, at the bunny. Was I cracking up?
“Mister?” said the bunny. “I can’t move. I’m scared.”
I cleared my throat. My voice came out as a rasp.
“Just relax,” I said. “You’re alright. Were you–are you… the little girl who was in the car?”
“Yes,” said the stuffed animal. A pause. “Have you seen my parents? I want to see my mom and dad.”
I’d seen what was left of them, sure, before they zipped them up in the black rubber bags and carted them off.
“They’re waiting for you,” I lied. “At the hospital. They’re fine.”
“Oh, okay,” said the voice. It sounded unconvinced. “Mister?”
“Yes?”
“Do I need to go to the hospital?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t think they can do much to help you, honey.”
There was a pause.
“I want to see myself,” said the voice. “Can you show me?”
“I… don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I replied.
Did she know she was inside her stuffed animal? Did she suspect? A silent, tense moment passed, and then she said, “Are you lying to me?”
“Yes,” I said before I could stop myself. “I’m so sorry.”
“My parents are dead, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m dead, too.”
“Yes.”
“It’s okay,” said the girl. “I knew that I was dead. And I know why you lied to me.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“It’s really okay,” replied the girl. “This…has happened before.”
“What?”
When she spoke again, her voice was hushed.
“I go inside him sometimes,” she said. “My bunny, Mr. Frank. When I’m upset. Sometimes I can even go inside other people, but only if I know them really well. I try not to, though. They get squeezed when I do, into the corner of their minds. They don’t like it.”
“Oh,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.
“Mister?” said the girl.
“Yes?”
“Can you help me?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Can you take me to my sister? I want to see her.”
“No problem,” I said. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”
Without any further discussion I climbed into the driver’s seat and we set off. I followed the directions as the girl gave them to me, and fourty-five minutes later we had arrived at the parking lot to a dormitory building at the local community college. The police station and my boss had called me a few times, no doubt wondering why I hadn’t cleaned up the wreck, but I had sent their calls straight to voicemail. I’d figure out how to explain myself later.
I took the stuffed bunny from the passenger seat and walked to the sister’s door, number 401. Three solemn knocks and twenty seconds later the door was answered by a young blond girl in her early twenties.
“Yes?” she said. “Can I help you?”
Her face bore a tired expression; her eyes were puffy from crying. So she’d already heard about the accident.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” I said. “But I have something for you.”
I held the bunny out to her at arm’s length.
“What the fuck?” she said, staring wide-eyed at the bloodied bunny with the missing ear.
How could I possibly explain?
“Your sister…” I trailed off.
“My sister,” she said. “Oh my god. This is my sister’s…no–”
She slammed the door in my face.
“Open the door,” said the bunny.
Without thinking, I complied.
“I know you’re upset,” I said.
“Get the fuck away from me!” shouted the young woman. She began hurling whatever her hands could reach straight at me.
“I just wanted to tell you that–”
“Get the fuck—-”
The words froze in her throat. Her body went slack. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed on the floor in a boneless heap.
The boneless heap groaned. Then, in the voice of a little girl, it spoke.
“Thank you,” it said.
“Are you…?” I said. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes,” she said. “It’s me.”
“But how?”
“I already told you. It’s not the first time. I can go into people, too.” She paused.
“Didn’t you wonder?” she said. “About the accident?”
“What do you mean?”
“The only tree for miles, and we crashed into it,” she said. “It was me. I did it. My dad was yelling at me–he deserved it.”
”No,” I said. “No.”
I couldn’t say anything else. A thousand broken thoughts and ugly feelings were fighting a melee in my head.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You saved me. I won’t hurt you. Unless you make me. You won’t make me, will you?”
I froze for a moment, unable to speak. I shook my head.
“No,” I said, “I won’t.”