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After her husband left, Mrs. Fletcher sat on the armchair, still warm after he had been sitting on it all morning. Sinking back, she closed her eyes and thought 'How dare he? Does he really think I'm that stupid?' For some reason the warmth of the armchair eased the pain raging through her mind, even though it had been Fletcher who had sat in it last. After roughly two minutes of complete silence, she went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water.

As she slowly sipped the water, the freshness of it cooling the anger in her heart, something popped into her mind. The 'other woman', the rabbits. That was all that Fletcher had ever cared about. Not her, even though they had been together for five years and had been married for three. It didn't matter how much love and affection she showered him with, he lavished all of his on the other woman and the stupid, stupid rabbits! Gulping the last of the water, she slammed the glass onto the cold granite worktop where it shattered into a thousand pieces. But Mrs. Fletcher didn't care. Leaving the shattered pieces of glass, still wet, on the floor and worktop, she stalked outside.

Out in the garden all was quiet. Mrs. Sykes had gone inside, leaving her washing fluttering gaily on the line. Mrs. Fletcher walked over to her own washing and stared at Fletcher's clothes hanging innocently. The suit he had been wearing the night before, his blue, red and white striped boxers, all of his clothes from the last two days, they were all hanging there. Hanging there as though everything was fine! As though it was any other normal day! Anger raged through her body then and she grabbed the suit that he had been wearing the night before. Ripping it harshly off the line, she flung it onto the lawn. It began to rain. Leaving the suit on the ground, swamped by mud and rain, Mrs. Fletcher walked over to where the rabbits dozed.

As her hand slowly crept towards the door handle, it began to rain heavily and there was a sudden clap of thunder. With rain running down her face, she opened the door. Images of Fletcher in bed with the other woman raced through her mind as she walked in and stared at the rabbits sitting innocently in their cages. Suddenly an image of a crying Fletcher appeared in her mind and she almost regretted what she was about to do. She walked back into the house and towards the kitchen.

She walked over to the drawer and pulled out an extremely sharp butcher's knife. She sniggered insanely. She didn't know why, but she did. She walked calmly back outside. The rainfall escalated into a downpour. As she trudged across the muddy lawn she heard the scuttling of the rabbits in their cages. She screamed. All of the anger and pain that she had felt since the morning came out in that one scream like a fatally wounded animal. She ran towards the shed and at the foremost cage. Wrenching it open, she pulled out a rabbit and stared into its trusting pink eyes. As the rabbit stared innocently into her own eyes, Mrs. Fletcher jabbed at it wildly with the knife. Soon the rabbit was dead, hanging limply in her hand.

Excited by the sight of ruby-red blood on the once snow-white, fluffy fur, and on her hands, Mrs. Fletcher flung the rabbit onto the ground and stamped on it, watching blood spurt out like a burst water balloon. Energised by the rain and the satisfaction that one of the rabbits was dead, she knelt down and stared into one of the cages at a chocolate brown rabbit. It was one of Mr. Fletcher's favourites; Coco, he called it. Smirking, she whispered 'Goodbye, Coco, my dear' as she pulled it out and flung it onto the already dead rabbit. She hesitated. 'Should I stamp on it or stab it?' she thought. She made up her mind. Grabbing it around the large stomach, she stabbed it directly between the eyes. Blood poured out like a bath tap. She smiled happily and left it, bleeding, on the ground. Undaunted, she finished the rest off quite quickly.

After killing the fifth and final rabbit Mrs. Fletcher took a step back and surveyed the shed. The floor was blood-stained, some dried dark brown, the rest the same ruby red as when the rabbits had first been killed. The cages were open and their floors glittered with the blood and gore of the rabbits. Mrs. Fletcher smiled, it was the best feeling she felt in a long time, a feeling of pure, whole happiness and a job well done. Turning round, she walked out of the shed and towards the house.

When she got back, all of the anger that had raged through her mind barely half an hour before had dissolved, like sugar in a cup of coffee. She felt like she was on top of the world. Elated, she went upstairs to have a bath.