Gilbert Robinson sat on the living room floor playing with his favorite white stuffed rabbit. He had gotten it last christmas from the old lady across the street. She said it had belonged to her sun when he was young and figured the young bunny-enthusiast Gilbert would make good use of it.
The sound of metal clinking against medal made the boy look toward the door. His dad was finally home from a long day at work.
"Hi dad." Gilbert smiled at his father who was standing in the doorway taking off his shoes.
"Hey bud." Gilbert's father patted down his sons curly black locks as he made his way to the kitchen to greet his wife.
Vanessa Robinson was mildly surprised when a pair of big hands snaked around her waste accompanied by a peck on her smooth shoulder. She almost dropped the spoon she was using to stir the noodles for the Fettucine Alfredo they were having for dinner tonight.
"Smells good." Her husband Alexander breathed huskily against her neck, "Need any help?"
"No thanks." She turned slightly in his arms to smile at him while she still stirred the noodles, "Dinner's almost ready. Why don't you and Gilbert go get washed up?"
The woman knew that her husband likely still had grease all over his hands from his work as a mechanic at the oil refinery.
He pouted and gave his wife one last kiss on her neck before pulling himself away from his happy position, swiping his hands against her stunningly white apron and leaving large, black grease stains on them.
Alex decided it was better not to mention it. Being the wise man he was he tip-toed out of the kitchen and off to the bathroom motioning to a giggling Gilbert to follow.
A few minutes later they were all sitting at the table. Making the small talk that families sometimes made when they ate. As he poked the food with his fork, Gilbert saw his father motioning to his mother from the corner of his eye. His mother nodded and the large man cleared his throat.
"Gilbert. Your mother and I have something we would like to tell you."
Alex Robinson grabbed his wife's hand as she exclaimed the news happily, "You're going to be a big brother!"
Gilbert almost choked on the noodles he had just attempted to swallow. He coughed for a moment until a scratchy "What?" managed to escape his mouth.
"Gil. Your mother is pregnant. Isn't that wonderful. We're going to have a baby!" For a moment Gil's father almost seemed more excited that his mom was prego than his mom was.
"That's great." Gilbert smiled. Steven Johnson from his third grade class' mom had just had a baby a few weeks ago. Steven had said that babies laugh when you make faces at them and that they're really squishy, sort of like stuffed animals. Gilbert liked stuffed animals.
Suddenly, curiosity struck the raven haired boy. "Is it a boy or a girl?"
"Well, we're not sure yet sweety," His mother explained. "but me and your father have been thinking."
"We think that now that you're going to have someone to look after, you may need to do a little growing up."
"What do you mean?" Gilbert grew quiet.
"Well, your mother and I just mean that you act a little young for your age, don't you think? You can barely get yourself dressed in the morning without help. Plus, you've been carrying around that dumb stuffed bunny" he motioned to the bunny in his son's hand, "ever since you got it for Christmas, and that was months ago."
Gilbert tightened his hold on his prized bunny treasure. "Peter is not dumb!"
"Oh please, Gil. He has fluff in his head." His mother said.
Gilbert's green eyes filled with tears.
He was hurt. They told him to grow up and that his bunny was dumb. They had crossed the line.
"Yeah? Well he's a hell of a lot smarter than you!"
He had said it without thinking, and regreted it immediately after.
A chorus of "Where did you hear that word?!" and "Go to your room!" followed him as he stomped off with Peter the rabbit.
He slammed the door to his room and locked it. It was a brand new lock that his parents had given him because now that he was almost nine they thought he was responsible enough for it.
Gilbert supposed that the lock would be gone by tomorrow and he would have his old, lockless door knob back. He wasn't sure if it was worth it, but yelling at his mom felt awesome.
He decided that they were right. He needed to grow up. Take charge of his life and he was about to.
He opened his closet and grabbed the box of oatmeal cookies and all the candy he had. He dug around to find a stick of beef jerky he had saved from the last time his dad and him had gone camping, and he shoved everything into a back pack he had lying around.
He opened his door slightly and stuck his head out to see his mother and father conversing as they cleared the table.
Perfect.
He grabbed Peter and set him nicely at the top of his bag along with a small blanket he found under his bed.
"Come on Peter. They wanted us to grow up. Let's show them just how 'grown-up' we are."
With that, he fascened the top of the back pack and crawled out his window into the still night.
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Gilbert's legs hurt. It felt like he had been walking for hours. He had followed the street out of the resedential area and was now dragging his feet along the sidewalk in front of some old stores. He thought maybe he had seen these buildings before, went shopping in them with his mom, but he wasn't sure. everything looked different at night.
He was walking past the back alley of one of the shops when he saw an old, beat-up chair there.
He decided to take a break from walking and sit.
The chair may have been broken, but it still held his short and slim eight year old body.
He leaned his head back and sighed in relief as he wiggled around his feet to cure some of the cramps in his ankles.
However, his relief didn't last for long before he heard a growling noise and saw some trash bags moving a small ways away from him.
Gilbert stiffened and sat upright immediately. He [B]hated[B] dogs. They scared him out of his wits. He stood up and slowly started backing away from the animal.
The dog circled him a few times before jumping up and biting his old back pack, tearing a hole into the bottom so everything came out.
The dog sniffed the contents of the bag before he began tearing apart poor Peter limb from limb.
Tears began to spill from Gilbert's eyes as he stood there, unable to move.