Chapter 2: The Rabbit We Buried
**Part 2 β continued in comments π**
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I couldn't breathe.
My legs felt like they might give out right there on the porch.
"What do you mean you knew?" I said.
"Who are you people?"
The mother didn't flinch.
She just looked at me with this strange, tired expression β like she'd been carrying something heavy for a very long time.
"We need to talk," she said quietly.
"But not out here."
My husband stepped forward.
"You're not taking another step until you tell us who that girl is."
The father tightened his grip on the girl's arm.
She hadn't said a word.
She was just watching me β wide-eyed, still, like she recognized something she couldn't name.
Then she spoke.
"Mom," she said softly.
But she wasn't looking at the woman beside her.
She was looking at me.
The other mother's face went white.
The father pulled the girl toward their front door.
"We'll explain everything," the mother said quickly.
"Just β please don't call anyone.
Not yet."
I felt my husband's hand on my shoulder, but I couldn't move.
Because tucked under the girl's arm was a worn stuffed rabbit β faded pink, one ear slightly torn.
The exact rabbit we had buried in the backyard the year after Margot disappeared.
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What Margot said next β and what that rabbit means β will break your heart.
The full truth is in the link below.
May you like
Click to read the rest of Margot's story.
π
