Indifferent Confusion

This bag is supposedly going to be the answer to all my problems. That’s what the little sticky note on the front said anyway. Right now I’m just staring at the heavy duty lunch bag. I am almost positive that the brown bag does not hold sustenance. Besides, I haven’t been eating since it happened.

I am 98% sure that I will not really enjoy what is in this bag. A feeling in my stomach told me that things were going to change drastically if I opened it to reveal its contents. They say curiosity killed the cat, but that doesn’t sound like a bad idea right now. So disregarding my better judgment, I hesitantly opened the brown paper bag. It looked just like any other lunch bag except that it was much thicker. Inside, I found a note that basically confirmed my suspicions.

‘That’s what he gets for all the things he did. For everything he did to you even while I was around. Don’t hate me or yourself, the bastard should have seen it coming. You don’t think I’d do that for you? For us? Now you know how much you mean to me.’

I sighed, knowing that I probably should hate myself. And I do. I’ve got the scars to prove that much. But I could never hate him. That would be physically and emotionally impossible.

Under the note was a box. A black container roughly the size of my fist. And in that instant, I knew what it was. I knew exactly what was inside that container. Somehow it made me feel better. Now that is completely fucked up; it should have made me feel even worse. But I really am mostly apathetic so it didn’t do much to me but make me feel better.

Opening the container, I found what I had been longing for for so long. This was not at all the way I wanted it, but after all I went through, it was the only way I would take it. The only way to feel justified was to have it just like this. I’m a horrible person for it, but I don’t give a shit. It was all his fault and I hate him for it and will forever. Well, I guess I cannot technically hate him, but if I could he would be dead to me. Ha, dead to me. Yeah, I’ve got something better right now. He is dead. The black container in that brown bag holds the heart we ripped out of his chest. But like the note said, he should have seen it coming.

As I was thinking this, I could hear sirens in the distance. Looking out the window into the darkness, I could see the flashing lights in the distance. With a smirk on my face, my feet led me out the door of my room and down the stairs into the family room. My family was all there watching some pointless show on TV looking like the perfect family without me. The smirk was still on my face which caused suspicion as my older brother chanced a glance at me.

Before I knew what was happening, he was pulling me into the kitchen expecting an explanation. When he did not get an explanation right away, he sighed, automatically knowing that the answer would not be one he approved of in the least.

“Rainelle, what have you done now?” he asked with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Frankie was a motocross rider and knew of all the things I had done in the past, even if my parents were oblivious to it all. He always found a way to know all about the bad things that I’d done, though my parents only knew a select few.

“I don’t think you can handle what I did this time dearest brother,” I replied in a sickly sweet tone, sarcasm just evident as an underlying tone. “It is way worse than any of the other things I’ve done before.”

“Is it worse than setting fire to your school or breaking into your principal’s house and stealing her stuff?” What? I hated school.

“Yeah Frank, it was worse than that. Hear those sirens? They are for me. They are here for me and-”

“Oh my God, I told you when you started going out with him that he was a bad idea. What did you two do this time?”

Before I had a chance to answer, the sirens stopped and the doorbell rang. I assumed that they would just bang the door down, but apparently I was wrong on that front though that was probably best. My mom got off the couch to answer the door only to be greeted by no-nonsense looking police officers. I recognized one of them as Sergeant Michaels; I’d bonded with him on more than a few occasions.

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time Rainelle,” he chastised and I could see the disappointment in his eyes. What else was new though?

“Oh God help me,” my mom groaned. “What on earth did you do this time Rainelle?” They all liked to call me Rainelle when they were disappointed.

“Can we not tell them?” I asked Sergeant Michaels. By that time, my family was all gathered around the door. Frankie wrapped his hand around my upper arm in a grip of iron. I was pretty sure there would be a bruise tomorrow.

“I don’t think so Rainelle,” he said as if that was obvious. I guess it was though, but I could hope. “Mr. and Mrs. Thunder, your daughter is convicted of murdering Jake Thompson.” My mom collapsed into my father’s arms; my father’s face turned about 25 shades of red and purple. My two little brothers stared at me with disgust, astonishment, incredulousness, and anger all in one. Frankie’s hand around my arm went slack and his face lost all color.

“You’re damn right that’s worse than everything else,” Frankie informed in a dead voice. I was fairly certain that I had basically just killed my older brother with that knowledge too.

And while all of this was going on, the only thing that I could think was ‘I still cannot believe that they named me Rainelle Thunder. Seriously, Rain Thunder?’ That’s all I thought. After sixteen and a half years with that name, that fact still astonished me for some inexplicable reason. It was a pretty intense name I must admit, but I just could not believe they would name me that.

“Why?” my mother whispered when she came to. “Rainy, why would you do something like that?”

“You don’t want to know.”