Chapter 2 - The Rabbit That Shouldn’t Exist
Ethan had spent twenty-two years convincing himself that Willow Street no longer mattered.
Now he stood on the porch of the house where his childhood had ended, staring at a seven-year-old girl who had just spoken to him as though she had been waiting.
The girl backed away.
“Wait!” Ethan called.
She turned and ran.
“Ethan, slow down,” Lily said.
He stepped through the doorway.
The smell hit him first.
Wet wood.
Dust.
Mildew.
And something strangely familiar beneath it all.
Lavender.
His mother used to keep dried lavender in bowls around the house.
Ethan froze.
Impossible.
The place had been abandoned for decades.
Lily entered behind him, still clutching the rabbit.
Floodwater had already invaded the first floor, swirling several inches deep through the hallway.
“Where did she go?”
Ethan pointed toward the staircase.
They heard footsteps overhead.
Small.
Quick.
Then silence.
“Stay here,” Ethan said.
Lily gave him a look.
“You've known me long enough to know that isn't happening.”
Despite everything, the corner of his mouth almost moved.
Almost.
They climbed.
Every step groaned.
At the landing, Ethan turned left automatically.
Lily noticed.
“You remember everything.”
“More than I thought.”
They passed an empty bedroom.
Then another.
At the far end of the hall stood a closed door.
Ethan stopped.
“What?” Lily asked.
“That was Anna’s room.”
A faint sound came from inside.
A child humming.
Ethan's face went pale again.
“What song?” Lily whispered.
“My father used to sing it to us.”
The humming stopped.
Ethan pushed the door open.
The room was empty.
No girl.
No rabbit.
Only peeling wallpaper and a collapsed wooden bed frame.
Lily stepped inside.
“She was here.”
Ethan didn't answer.
He was looking at the wall.
Tiny faded stars had been painted around the window.
He walked toward them.
“I painted those.”
“When?”
“When Anna was afraid of the dark.”
He touched one.
“She wanted the room to look like the sky.”
Lily's expression softened.
Then something caught her attention.
“Ethan.”
Beneath the damaged bed frame, something white was visible.
They moved the wood.
A stuffed rabbit lay underneath.
Lily stopped breathing.
It looked exactly like hers.
Ethan picked it up with trembling hands.
Its fur was filthy and damp.
One ear sagged.
Beneath its left eye was a line of blue stitching.
Lily slowly lifted her rabbit.
Side by side, they were nearly identical.
Ethan turned the old rabbit over.
A small cloth label had been sewn beneath one leg.
There were faded letters.
A.N.N.A.
Lily whispered, “That was hers.”
Ethan sat down on what remained of the bed.
For several seconds, he simply held the rabbit.
Lily had never seen him cry.
Not when his father died.
Not when he'd lost his business partner.
Not even when Lily had nearly left him two years earlier after an argument they both regretted.
But now tears appeared silently in his eyes.
“I remember giving this to her.”
Lily sat beside him.
“She wouldn't sleep without it.”
“Then how did the girl downstairs have one?”
Ethan turned to Lily's rabbit.
“That's what I don't understand.”
Lily examined her toy.
“My grandmother gave me this when I was little.”
“What was her name?”
“Rose.”
Ethan looked sharply at her.
“Rose what?”
“Rose Bennett.”
He stood so fast the floorboards creaked.
“What?”
“Why?”
Ethan stared at her.
“We knew someone named Rose.”
Lily's chest tightened.
“Who?”
“My mother's sister.”
Lily laughed nervously.
“No. That's impossible.”
“Her name was Rose Bennett before she married.”
The room seemed to shrink around them.
“My grandmother never had a sister named your mother.”
“Maybe she didn't tell you.”
Lily shook her head.
“Ethan, my grandmother lived in Pennsylvania. Your family was here in Virginia.”
“Not until later.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mother was born in Pennsylvania.”
Lily stared at him.
Before either could say another word, they heard a knock.
Three slow knocks.
From inside the wall.
Lily stood.
“What was that?”
Another three knocks.
Ethan walked toward the wallpaper.
He pressed his ear against it.
Nothing.
Then—
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Lily whispered, “Someone's back there.”
Ethan ran his hands along the wall.
His fingers found a narrow seam hidden beneath layers of paint.
“There was a closet here,” he said.
“A closet?”
“I forgot.”
He pulled.
Nothing.
Then Lily spotted an old brass latch near the baseboard.
She lifted it.
The wall opened six inches.
Cold air rushed out.
Behind it was a narrow hidden space.
Ethan stared.
“I never knew this existed.”
Lily pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight.
They entered.
The space ran between two bedrooms.
At the end sat a wooden box.
Ethan opened it.
Inside were photographs.
Dozens.
He picked up the first.
His mother.
His father.
Himself at eight.
Anna at six.
But there was another child standing beside Anna.
A girl about the same age.
Her face had been scratched out with a pen.
Lily took the photograph.
“Who is she?”
“I don't know.”
Ethan flipped it over.
Handwriting covered the back.
June 14. Ethan, Anna, and Emma.
“Emma,” Lily said.
The name meant nothing to Ethan.
Yet something deep inside him reacted.
A door.
A basement.
A little girl crying.
His father shouting.
Don't tell anyone Emma is here.
Ethan stumbled backward.
“Ethan?”
“I remember her.”
“Who?”
“Emma.”
His breathing quickened.
“She lived here.”
“Why would another child live with you?”
“I don't know.”
He looked through the other photographs.
Emma appeared again and again.
Playing beside Anna.
Eating birthday cake.
Sitting beside Ethan on the porch.
Always there.
Yet Ethan had completely forgotten her.
Then Lily found one photograph that changed everything.
It showed Anna and Emma sitting together.
Each girl held a stuffed rabbit.
Identical.
Lily looked at her own toy.
“No.”
She turned the photograph over.
Two names had been written beneath the picture.
Anna's Bunny.
Emma's Bunny.
Lily felt dizzy.
Ethan stared at her.
“Your grandmother gave you Emma's rabbit.”
Before Lily could respond, a floorboard creaked behind them.
They turned.
The little girl stood at the entrance to the hidden room.
Her face was wet with tears.
She pointed at Lily's rabbit.
Then at the photograph.
“My mommy said you would come.”
Lily stepped forward carefully.
“Sweetheart, what's your name?”
The girl hesitated.
“Emma.”
Ethan stopped breathing.
Lily glanced at him.
The child's voice trembled.
“Emma Rose Bennett.”
Lily almost dropped the rabbit.
Rose Bennett.
Her grandmother's name.
The girl stared directly at her.
May you like
Then whispered the sentence that would destroy everything Lily thought she knew about her family.
“Rose was my grandma too.”
