Clara sat peacefully in her play-room on the carpet, playing with a floppy bunny toy she'd been given. She couldn't seem to remember when the bunny came to her, But she knew she loved it like the pet she wasn't allowed to have. Clara had always wanted a dog, but her daddy told her if she got a dog they'd have to move. Clara didn't really want that.  After all, she'd lived there for six years, her entire life. Clara was proud she could count that high, most of the kids at school couldn't. Clara learned to dial the phone for her mommy, who'd broken her hand falling down the stairs, which meant she could count all the way to ten. Rain pitter-pattered against Clara's window, She imagined the raindrops were having a race down the glass. She heard a loud thump downstairs, this was pretty normal for Clara. She imagined her parents were dancing downstairs, Or wrestling. She figured adults liked to do things like that too, but wasn't sure why she wasn't invited. She didn't mind of course, she perferred to color, and play with her bunny. They only locked her in her playroom when they were downstairs, doing whatever it is they do. The playroom was small, painted pink with white polka dots. The ceiling was a crumply white mush that resembled snow, clara really liked to lay on the carpet and look up at it. She had a plastic red toy chest, and a bookshelf. She wished she could read the books on it, but they were only there for decoration. Clara saw the moon through the tint of her dingy pink curtains, She imagined it must be long past her bedtime, yet no one had come to get her. She stood up off the floor and walked over to the large white door that separated the pink playroom from the outside world. She reached up to the brass knob and turned it as best she could, she could barely push the door open. She pressed her back against it and shoved with all her might, It gave way with a creak. She landed with a soft plop against the carpet in the hall. The lights upstairs were off, She ran her palm against the wall as she walked. She clutched her bunny tight, Clara hated the dark. The floor creaked beneath her feet, her heart began to pound. Slowly she continued into the pitch black corridor. Her hand finally found the light switch. Flicking it on revealed the same hallway she'd seen earlier that day. She'd never left the playroom by herself before, never gone venturing alone through the house. She knocked on her parents door, but there was no response. She slowly opened it to find nothing but an open window, curtains rustling in the breeze. Clara checked the other rooms upstairs, there was no trace of them. She approached the top of the stairs, when she saw something that frightened her, Clara bent down to make certain, but her eyes did not deceive her. There was a trail of blood leading down the stairs. She could hear her parents downstairs, they were shouting. Clara hadn't been around many people, but she recognised the tone of their voices, they were arguing. She sat at the top of the stairs, she remembered being punished for interrupting her mommy before, she had walked in front of the television. She thought it was best to wait until a better time to talk to them. She waited patiently, But the screaming only grew louder. Her heart sank when she heard it, a loud smack followed by the shattering of glass. She heard her mother scream, Clara shot up off the step, Yet she couldn't move. She felt a hand across her waist. "Wait," She heard a voice say, "Dont go down there". She'd never heard a voice in her head before, but some part of her knew to trust it. Clara felt tears welling in her eyes, she wasn't sure what to do. "There's a phone in your parents room, isn't there?" The voice said. Clara Nodded. "Do you remember the number for the police?" It asked her. Clara slowly turned and ran to her parents room. She dialed the phone as fast as her little fingers could. It rang for only a moment before the operator picked up. "911, What's your emergency?" They asked. "My name is Clara, I'm only nine." Clara responded. "Okay Clara, how can I help?" They asked. "Something really bad is happening down stairs. I think my Mommy might be hurt." Clara replied. Before the operator could continue, Clara heard a terrifying sound. She'd heard it before, on TV. It was a gunshot, followed by another. She sat the phone on the bedside table, She could hear the operator asking questions, but she was far too worried to answer again. She heard another gunshot, the loud pop rattled through the house. She ran and locked her parents door, before picking up the phone again. "Clara? are you still there?" The operator asked. "Yes" Clara said, her voice cracking. "I'm sending a police cruiser to your location,  Are you in a safe place?" They asked. "I think" Clara said. "No, you're not" The voice in Clara's head rang. She heard someone coming up the stairs. Clara looked around the room, before dropping to her stomach and crawling under the bed. She heard the footsteps travel down the hall, into Clara's playroom. It was quiet for a while. "Clara?" Her mothers voice finally called. Clara's heart almost steadied, her mother was safe. But again, the voice in her head spoke to her. "Somethings wrong, listen to her voice" It said. "Clara? Where are you?" Her mother called, The voice was right. Her mother sounded angry, And deranged. "You need to leave now" The voice said. Clara glanced over to the window, she'd seen people jump out windows. She knew there was a roof to walk on out there. Her mother tried to open the door, shaking the knob. "Clara! Open this door right now!" Her mother shouted. Clara raced toward the window, and began to climb out it. She heard another gunshot behind her, as her mother pushed the door open. "Get back here!" Her mother called. Another shot, the window frame next to Clara exploded to bits of wood. Clara raced onto the roof, she slid off it and into the yard below. She had no other choice. It was dark, and warm. The rain pattered against the street in front of her. Clara saw the red and blue lights of a police car flash in the distance, she knew that meant help was here. They chirped their siren as they pulled up, Clara nearly leapt into the officers arms. One of the men sat in the car, holding clara, while the other walked up to the front door. "Hi there, My names Markus." He said, he was an older man with a bushy mustache. Clara nodded, "I'm Clara" She said. Clara was shaking in the mans arms, She didn't know how to process all this. The policemans radio chirped. "I've got injured in here, Male, mid thirties, shot twice." It said. Later an ambulance would arrive. Clara was left alone in the police car for a while, She wasn't sure what was going on. It was loud, and bright. The rain became much heavier. She held her bunny tight. "It's alright, Everythings going to be okay" The voice said. "Who are you?" Clara said aloud. "I'm a part of you, Clara. I'm here to help you, And keep you safe. Okay?" It replied. Clara nodded. She wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for the voice. "So, what do I call you then?" Clara asked. The voice was quiet for a moment. "I don't know, I don't have a name. Why don't you pick one for me?" It replied, cheerily. Clara thought about it for a moment, Before she promptly named the voice: "Bunny."