The Rabbit Hutch



In the first three hours of its posting, a YouTube video entitled “True Story” posted by user Malik P. Johnson gathers 695 views. Sapphire, a young woman who once shared a foster family with Malik P. Johnson, clicks the link from a social media platform that she keeps meaning to deactivate because it feels outdated and evil. She watches the video three times, then researches the website policies. Sapphire has three kids of her own now, and they have increased her sensitivity to blood—the opposite of what she expected from motherhood. Violent or gory content intended to shock or disgust viewers, or content encouraging others to commit violent acts, are not allowed on YouTube. If you believe anyone is in imminent danger, you should get in touch with your local law enforcement agency to report the situation immediately. If you find content that violates this policy, report it. She posts What is this shit? in the comments. Maybe it’s “art.” She returns to the policies. Don’t post content on YouTube if it fits any of the descriptions noted below . . . Content that includes a human maliciously causing an animal to experience suffering when not for traditional or standard purposes such as hunting or food preparation . . . Dramatized or fictional footage of content prohibited by these guidelines where the viewer is not provided with enough context to determine that the footage is dramatized or fictional.

Is the video any of her business? Sapphire has a hard time determining what obligations she has to the people she encounters, and what obligations they have to her. She hasn’t spoken to Malik in years. She leaves her chair, checks on her kids to make sure they’re still asleep in their room, microwaves a frozen burrito, tries to watch a show about a benevolent psychopath. But she can’t stop thinking about the video—the goat bound in ropes, the girl on the floor, the blood on her stomach. White hair in the dark. So realistic. Either they had a very low budget or a very high budget, high enough to make it look low—Sapphire can’t tell. After deliberating for an hour, Sapphire reaches a decision. By then, the video boasts nearly 2,000 views, 272 dislikes, and 83 likes. Malik always loved attention; she believes that he is capable of hurting someone for it. She believes everyone is. Sapphire gives the video a thumbs-down, then clicks Report.





According to Todd





The Facts




I tried to give you an explanation. Instead you wanted the facts.

We heard the goat.

We found the goat.

We carried it out of her room.

We tied it up on the floor with jump ropes.

The goat was in front of the television.

The television was off.

Todd got the bongos.

I got the knife.

Malik got his phone.

We gave the knife to Todd.

It was our only sharp knife.

I took it from Pinky’s loft.

He had like thirty, and we had none.

It’s only fair.

Todd didn’t want the knife.

Todd said, No.

Todd said, No way.

We called him a pussy.

Todd took the knife.

We took shots.

We banged on the floor with our feet and fists.

We yelled at each other.

We yelled at the goat.

We turned off the lights.

We lit one candle.

Todd put down the knife.

We passed our fingers through the flame.

The man who could keep his skin in the flame the longest won.

Malik won.

Todd lost.

Malik handed Todd the knife.

We took shots.

The goat was crying.

The goat was afraid.

We did not like its fear.

None of us wanted to kill it.

One of us had to kill it.

We did not like our fear.

One of us had to kill it.

Todd dropped the knife on the floor.

I picked it up and gave it back to him.

Todd dropped the knife on the floor.

Malik picked it up and gave it back to him.

The goat was small.

Todd was small.

We took shots, and nothing was real.

Do it, do it, you fucking pussy.

Do it for her.

Show her you’re not a fucking pussy.

This is the test.

Are you a man or a boy?

Are you a boy or a girl?

Fucking do it.

Malik stood on a chair across the room.

Todd lifted the knife.

Todd stared at the goat.

The goat stared at Todd.

And then she was there. Right there.

All of a sudden. Blandine.

You never saw her coming.

She moved like a cat.

Nothing was real.

She got between Todd and the goat.

She screamed.

Stop it. Stop it. Please. Please. Please.

She untied the first rope.

I tackled her, held her down.

She got free.

Please. Stop. Please.

She untied the next rope.

I tackled her, held her down.

She got free. Stop. Stop.

Untied another knot.

The goat didn’t move.

The goat couldn’t move.

The goat was still tied up.

With her body, Blandine shielded it.

I pulled down her strap.

She lunged for me.

I ripped her strap.

Malik cheered.

I touched her skin.

Malik didn’t touch her.

The goat or Blandine.

He just filmed, his face wide open.

Todd, are you a boy or a man?

Do it, you fucking pussy, fucking do it.

Todd, are you a man or a girl?

Blandine left me on the ground and dove in front of the goat.

She was screaming like an animal.

None of you even know who you are!

Blandine reached for the knife.

Todd pulled away.

Blandine reached for Todd’s throat.

Todd pulled away.

Blandine protected the goat.

I tore down the top of her dress.

She kicked me in the balls.

The pain was unreal.

I fell to the ground.

Malik filmed. Malik yelled.

Todd, what the fuck is wrong with you?

The pain was abnormal.

Todd kicked at the goat but missed.

Blandine threw herself at him.

Blandine wrestled Todd to the ground.

Blandine started choking him.

Why do you have to kill everything, she screamed.

Why do you have to kill everything.

Todd was going red in the face as she strangled him.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

Todd’s head going purple.

Todd’s hands moved very fast.

Todd’s hands are very small.

He held the knife. He put it into Blandine.

Once. Again. Again. Again.

Her torso. Maybe her chest. I couldn’t see well.

The pain was extraphysical.

Too easy—too easy to empty a person of herself.

Todd pushed Blandine off of him.

He stood and looked at Malik.

Malik was looking at the doorway, terrified.

In the doorway stood a stranger.

The stranger began to yell.

He wore a trench coat.

He glowed in the dark.

Face, hands, legs, neck.

Glowing. Like a firefly.

Nothing was real.

There was blood on the floor.

There was blood on my feet.

The blood was warm, like soup.

I knew because I touched it. I touched the blood. It was hers.

That’s when we saw the flash of light in the room, like lightning.

But from inside the apartment, not outside.

No thunder. It came from inside.

Brightest light I’d ever seen.

Todd dropped the knife. No one picked it up.

The glowing man ran across the room, to Blandine.

Nothing was real for nineteen years and then.

Todd vomited.

The goat peed.

The body bled.

I looked around and tried to see.

An old man appeared in the doorway.

Horror on his face. But he was gone as soon as I saw him.

I thought I imagined him. Thought he was a ghost.

The glowing man opened his coat.

He wore nothing underneath but briefs.

The glowing man tied Blandine’s stomach with his coat belt.

He lay her down. He lifted her legs.

The glowing man said, What the fuck, what the fuck.

The glowing man said, What the fuck is wrong with you.

The glowing man said, I was supposed to be the weirdest thing to happen tonight.

The glowing man said, I will kill you if you touch her.

The goat was slumped beside Blandine, watching.

You could smell its piss.

Malik grinned at his phone.

A grin I’ve never seen before.

A face you’d carve into a pumpkin.

We heard the sirens.

We heard the steps.

The knock.

The voices.

Your voices.

And then everything was real.





Solve for Y in Terms of X





What was Tiffany Watkins to James Yager? His ex-wife wants to know. She was evolution’s fault. A footnote in the divorce. The proletariat. Ondine. She was a child, a casualty, a lapse, a virus, a bowl of milk. She was born the year James married Meg. She was stabbed in the stomach three times. What was James Yager to Tiffany Watkins? He doesn’t want to know.

James sits on the floor of his bedroom, depressed by its peanut-butter carpet, depressed by the value system that this first depression reveals. The apartment is cheap. He can smell the river when he opens the windows; the windows are always open; there is no air-conditioning; his life has degenerated. It takes so little time and effort to become accustomed to luxury, but years of labor to reverse the process. Hot storm wind throws itself around. James stands and moves to the kitchen, dodging the walls, like he’s driving a car in a video game.

Tess Gunty's books