Ripple- a Bluey Story

Postal

8:50AM...still

I didn't bother reading the rest of the letter I held. Instead I gripped it as hard as I could as I soaked it with tears. Eventually the paper succumbed to my grip and tore in half, falling to the ground. I didn't know what to do.

I felt like screaming. I felt like punching every object in the room into dust. I felt like throwing myself through walls until I was just a bloody pulp. My nostrils flared from my rapid and sporadic breaths. The fucking scumbag who killed my parents just decided he could up and fucking die? HE CAN'T JUST DO TH- he did dumbass. Are you actually stupid?  The voice that usually led me down the darkest path being the voice of reason was deeply unsettling, but I just ignored it.

Even if I couldn't do anything about it and he was already dead, my rage hadn't subsided. Before I actually wrecked something expensive, I managed to gather my last iota of common sense and reached for a throw pillow on the couch.

9:00AM 

The first punch and the one hundred and fiftieth had blended together by now. Everything had turned red and only now was I able to see clearly before me. What had once been a pretty beige throw pillow was now an inside out abomination with fluff spread out all around it. Apparently I had gotten slightly carried away. You just destroyed a thirty dollar throw pillow because you had a temper tantrum. With shit like this how much longer are the Heelers gonna have you here? Doesn't take a genius.

I quickly started to collect all the pillow fluff and carnage that had been spread about the room, driven by fear. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them. 

"Oh...wow." I froze as Bandit's voice rang out behind me. "What happened?" And now you go and get caught immediately. Do you have ANY redeeming qualities?

"I-I'm really s-sorry." I tightened and started shaking a little, needlessly expecting a wrath Bandit would absolutely never give. After a little bit of silence I felt his hand on my shoulder.

"Mate it's no big deal. But seriously, what happened?" I relaxed, remembering that yeah... it was Bandit, of course he'd never do anything serious over a pillow. But with a clearer mind, I remembered the letter and started choking up. I realized speaking was futile, so I just pointed at the tear-stained halves of the letter on the ground. I fell on my ass and laid down, letting my tears pour. I could hear Bandit let out a grunt of frustration.

"That's a croc of shit. No trial for anything? What the hell is this country?" He asked to no one in particular. It didn't really register that was the first time I had ever heard Bandit swear. 

Bandit sat down next to me.

"I know it feels like you're never going to get closure right now." How perceptive. "But, I can assure you mate, seeing that man for real life would have only created more questions. It wouldn't finally put all your rage and sorrow to rest if you saw him convicted. Even if it's satisfying, taking enjoyment from another dog's suffering only leaves you feeling more empty." I wiped my eyes and sniffled. Thinking like that majorly calmed me down, he was gone and couldn't hurt anybody else. Usually I was aggressively atheistic, but the idea of a hell eternally tormenting his soul in an afterlife was deeply comforting. 

"Y-you're right, thank you." I took one last deep breath, fully calming down from my rage. I got up and we both proceeded to begin picking up the ravaged throw pillow pieces. 

"Oh also, your therapy appointment is at 4 PM, so you have 7 hours." My throat tensed a little at the mention of the therapy appointment I had completely forgotten about. I didn't quite know why, but the mere thought made me anxious. I tried to push the anxiety down and forget about it, I could survive some random dude asking me questions for 50 minutes after all.