Finding Him
Chapter 1 : The White Rabbit
by : Sakeena [email protected]

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It had been nine weeks and three days since I last saw him. That day that my heart seemed to have stopped instinctively and the night it rained so hard I was almost afraid it would never rain again for a hundred years.

Three days after, my nightmare reawakened. I could not remember since when I had it, but these nightmares hunted me as far as I could remember. Ironic but also as recent as I could recall. It all seemed like a part of my whole life at the same time a some kind of alien invasion attempting to shatter my sanity.

It would start with distorting the images around me - everything. It would circle, dance and spin so fast that my head would seem to spin too. Then there were voices. Voices that only existed in my head. Yet it was foreign. Then everything would be gone, even the sounds. I could only hear nothing but deafening silence, at the same time see nothing but blackness- entire blackness.

Then I could not remember anything else.

Then I would wake up in the least expected places to find myself in - a hospital, a prison, somebody else's bed or just about everywhere. Sometimes, I would even find my clothes torn if I was not completely naked.
It was a proof that what I heard and saw was nothing from fantasy. It was real. All real.

And it horrified me.


I never told this sickness of mine to anybody. I intended to tell the only living family I had , my father about it, despite the fear that, like any other sane and concerned individual, he would send me to a mental hospital. I was sane enough, and wanted to talk to him about my 'disease'. But the very next day, he disappeared. My father disappeared.

And he hadn't returned.

I had reported it to the police. Of course, they paid me no attention when he was just missing for
less than 24 hours. But it was raining hard. Too hard.

God, I hate the rain.

I knew something was bad. Something else could happen in a span of 24 hours. But the cops didn't understand it. And I was just as clueless and helpless like anybody else.

After 24 hours and my father had not returned, I reported it to the cops once again. It was like an I-told-you-so stuff and the cops didn't like I-told-you-sos so they sent me away and told me to "leave the matters in their hands." Ha. As if. But what choice I had? I was attending m final year in college. I had my job as a karate/fencing instructor at a nearby dojo. I also had to take care of the temple of my late grandpa. I had my responsibilities and duties I could not just leave.

Four days later after his disappearance and two days of vain attempt to live a normal life, I've had my 'disease' again. It happened longer, and more menacing than the previous occurrence. Whoever was doing it to me was mastering the entrance and exit of my mind more and more as time passed by. As they say, practice makes perfect. For my case, practice makes insane.

This incident told me I better stop teaching temporarily and take a retreat to the safest place I know of - the temple. But still the 'disease' hunted more and more, this time every incident grew longer and stronger than the previous ones, and more frequent.

First in that insane week happened early in the morning, probably around nine o clock. My images
swirled , voices shouted at ears, loud enough for me to get deaf but not loud enough for other people to hear. The same ritual. But when I woke up, I found myself inside the toilet of a mall. I scrambled outside to find a figure striding ahead of me - and he resembled my father very much, that I ran after him. But he disappeared amongst throngs of people

Next one the next day at lunch. I saw him - my father - he was at the park. Again I ran after him only to lose him again.

Same things happened. I saw figures of my father everywhere, but he never came back. He never showed himself to me aside from his back or if he was facing me he was too blurred up or there was only a silhouette of him visible. Some of these may be dreams already, but as I said this life of mine had become rather confusing. I could no longer tell the reality and the fantasy. Dozens of questions hunted me.

Then other visions came. That of Kikuchi Mariko, my father's fiancée and then these boys at some flower shop along with many flowers and then some girls. It was all so vivid, so real, that in fact, it may be real.

My worst fear came. Well, it may not be my worst, but it was a thing I dreaded to happen. A vision came. Then I woke up to find myself in a house. A room. Full of blood. A dagger in my hand while the other hand held Kikuchi's neck. She was dead.

I killed her.

Then these boys came. Whoever they were they didn't seem to be from the cops. But I was, for some reasons, in a disguise , as though I had planned these things before hand. A male black suit, a mask of a rabbit on my face, a dagger, a gun and one more dagger. I was able to escape the boys, whoever they were. But the incident changed my whole life.

From a normal college girl facing the problems of normal life, I had become a criminal. Things really happened so fast I was afraid to be left behind.

The same questions haunted me. How could I do such thing? Could I really do something like that?

Everybody knew I was not in good terms with Kikuchi Mariko, but never in my whole life could I commit such crime to that woman. She may be a bitch, I know, but I never thought lowering myself to sinning for her sake. Not even a fraction of my imagination.

The name was everywhere : White rabbit Wanted for Murder.

And I was the first suspect.

What more, my sudden disappearance added insult to injury.

There were, according to the paper at least, witnesses. But as far as I know, the only witnesses were but those boys.

The only one who ever trusted me was the temple keeper, old Amaru. He did not fear me. In fact he kept me safe in the temple, hid me from the cops. I confronted him about it - 'my crime'. And he believed me. I then decided to tell him about my 'sanity' problems.

Until I killed him next.

I wasn't even able to tell him. Poor Amaru.

The name was on the paper once. White Rabbit strikes Again. It sent shudders down
my spine. But I went on hiding.


Visions came once again; or maybe it was real. But who was I to know? The same stuffs : the boys, Mariko , the girl and my father who this time, I saw his eyes with rage. Then some added flavors that turned it from worse to worst : Amaru. Everybody, including my father must have hated me.

I was in a hiding. Everybody seemed to stalk after me. But these people- poor people, I was afraid I may kill them. I feared everything. I feared my disease would suddenly come when I was in public and I would kill everybody in my way. I feared, most of all, myself. It was like some sort of evil was awakened from the depths of my being. I wanted it all to stop. But I was too helpless.

I was running out of money, jumping from one hotel then to another, an apartment, everywhere to protect my identity. I knew it would be best that I would be caught and placed in jail for the crimes I committed, or in the mental asylum to get my mind fixed but the thought of my lost father stopped me from turning myself in. The cops were no good. It was more than a month already, and they still got no idea
about him.

In my despair, I found myself, one late afternoon walking at the local cemetery where my late mother was buried. It was the only place where I know I could hurt no one. I could not hurt the dead. At least it was nice that I still had my limitations. I was still human.

I slumped down before her grave, crying.

It rained hard.

Minutes later, I heard someone. He was walking towards me, then stopped to kneel to the grave not very far off my mother's.

I stopped crying.

The visions suddenly interrupted.

But I was determined to fight it. It was only then that I realized maybe I could fight it. I could give it a try. It's better than just giving up.

My head throbbed. The visions blurred. The voices waned. But it was fighting its way to my mind. I stood up , walking farther away from the person who may be a potential victim of mine. In case I lose.

Unable to take it, I screamed, holding both ears with my hands as I scrambled away.



NOOO!



But it was too powerful. Whoever who was raping my mind was too powerful. Probably it had become
quite powerful. If only I had figured earlier I could actually fight it, the maybe it had not become that powerful over me.

I screamed and screamed.

My hand found the dagger kept in my chest, despite that it was really against my will. A part of me wanted to give up. It would be better if I would be completely under the spell. At least I wouldn't have to witness my own crime. But a part of me was saying I didn't do it, and I could prove it if I could see with my own eyes I committed no crime.

I decided to warn that someone to leave. But it sounded more of deranged cry of a lunatic than as a warning. He must leave before I kill him.

But he didn't seem to budge. Wasn't even scared. Then something came to my mind. If I kill myself then......

It rained harder.

"What are you doing?" A rock hit my hand. I lost the dagger.


My sight was blurred. I could not see right. Half of what I saw was from the images my mind was insisting I should see, or at least someone controlling my mind wanted me to see, and the other half of reality. Blended together, it was confusing, scaring and making me insane.

My head throbbed harder.

I knelt down to feel for the dagger. There was mud all over me.

"What are you doing?" the voice repeated. He seemed nearer.

"Leave me alone! Mind your own business!" I screamed at him. I felt the dagger and took it, but whoever that someone was, that nosy someone was, took it away. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"I'd love to. But I'm leaving you alone alive. " the nosy someone continued in his calm voice.

"Kill me. Kill me now," I ordered him. No. It was a plead.

"No one orders me around."

"Please. Kill me."

He seemed to kneel down to level my face. "I don't hurt women. At least not women as helpless as you are."

"I'm not helpless. I'm..a criminal.."

"That makes two of us."

My eyes cleared. I began to see again.

I was crying.

He was a guy not older than I was. Red hair. Narrow eyes. Tall and well built. An earring dangled on his left ear. I glared at him straight in the eyes, tears running my face. Or maybe it was the rain.

"You don't understand, mister. Give me back my knife or..or.." I stammered. Or what? I wasn't about to say I was going to kill him or was I?

God. Maybe it was my intention to kill. The intention was merely facilitated.

He was taller than I was. He looked like he knew how to fight. A coat. What could be inside that coat? A gun probably? He could kill me if he wanted to.

But that was the problem. He didn't want to kill me.

"Give me back my knife, mister. Just give it back." My voice shook.

He just stared back at me with the same calm expression. "Don't order me around." He began walking away.

The images were returning. It was a torture. Maybe it was a good idea that he kept the dagger. But wait. I had a gun. My hand felt for it by my waist. Breathing hard, I put it against my chin and pulled the trigger.

April 2000 © Sakeena