CHAOS THEORY (ON HIATUS)

II. SIXTH STAGE

I'm sitting at my vanity. My face is no less than two inches from the mirror.

I'm applying a shade of blood red liquid-to-matte lipstick to my lips with the ultimate precision. My eyes are still red from the news I heard 15 minutes ago.

If I'm going to figure out what happened to her, I'm going to need to be fearless. So I'm putting on my warpaint and getting into the mindset I need to be.

I will uncover who did this to Olivia. I will find out who did this. I will find them. And I might just kill them.

I glance to the analog clock above my head.

7:02.

Amelia should be here any minute.

I twist the doe-foot applicator back into the glass vial and lift myself off the stool.

I glance out my sunrise window and see Amelia pulling up in her vintage cherry red convertible.

She waves to me with a smirk on her face, wearing cat-eye sunglasses. It's a cloudless morning. She doesn't know about Olivia yet.

I empty out my denim backpack of all my school supplies and throw in my makeup bag, sunglasses, house keys, and my wallet, as well as a notebook and my phone.

I cross my room an descend down the stairs. I stop at the landing to say goodbye to my mom.

I walk to the door of her office. A sliver of light peeks through her door.

My knuckles knock on her door and I peek my head in. She's sitting at her desk, reading glasses perched at the tip of her nose. She's still wearing her pajamas, and she's now sipping on her orange peel-colored smoothie.

"Alright, Mom, I'm leaving now"

She peeks her head up from her computer, without looking at me and says, "Goodbye sweetie. Have a good da-"

She makes eye contact with me.

"Hey, you can't wear that to school. You need sleeves!" She says in a jokingly angry tone.

Even though I know she's kidding with me, it's obvious that something is up. So, I back out of her office and close the door.

"What are you doing?"

Rewind.

The door is closed now. None of that encounter just happened.

"Okay, goodbye Mom!" I say through the door, followed by me darting down the stairs.

I make a beeline for the kitchen and hastily yank open the cabinet. I grab a Nature Valley bar; one of those granola bars where crumbs get fucking everywhere. Keeping this in mind, I snatch a napkin before going out the door.

I smoothly take the sunglasses out of the side pocket on my backpack and flip them open as I'm descending down the porch, putting them on my face like someone in a music video, each one of my footsteps pat-pat-patting down the path of stepping stones, leading to Amelia's car.

I've always dealt with grief in a strange way. Even though they say "everyone handles grief differently," right now, if someone was put in my situation, they would probably still be in denial.

I'm in denial for anywhere from 5 minutes to a half hour. And once that period of denial is over, I go into a depression, although the next logical stage is anger. The depression lasts for, once again, 5 to 30 minutes.

After this, I slip into anger. Pure, unfiltered, fury. There's a bit of a gray area after that, then it gets strange.

I go into a sixth stage. It's not listed in the five stages, but it's there. And it happens.

There's no one word to describe it. The only term I can really explain it with is numb-revenge.

I go into this stage no matter what circumstances. If I can't get revenge, such as with the death of the family dog or my grandmother, both due to natural causes, it fades eventually into acceptance. I'm just constantly irritable and on edge, confused and angry with the world, because I don't know how to release this pent-up rage.

But if it's an event where I can get revenge, such as when last year, when my boyfriend of 2 years was cheating on me, or right now, with Olivia's murder, it doesn't go away, and I can't go into acceptance unless I get my vengeance.

When I'm in this sixth stage, I'm constantly on edge. I'm numb to everything, although it's that type of numbness where I can act emotional if I need to.

I guess it's not complete numbness then. I'm not indifferent towards everything and everyone, I can still feel, it's all just a little more foggy. It's foggy because I need to focus on how to get revenge. It fills every inch of my brain and I need to satiate it.

I've always thought of myself as somewhat manipulative, but I try not to be. It's only when I'm in a state like this where I take advantage of it.

I open the door to Amelia's automobile, the door handle making that satisfying opening noise. I carefully take off my backpack and place it on the car floor. I cross my body with the seatbelt and I'm ready to go.

Amelia is sitting with her elbow resting on the car door,

"What's up with you?"

"I'm assuming you haven't been watching the news?"

"What happened?" She says, a look of worry darting across her face.

I take a heavy sigh, much similar to my mother's this morning, and pull down my sunglasses and gaze at Amelia.

"Olivia's body was found at the bottom of the Quinnipiac."

Another look darts across her face this time; sadness. An emotion I rarely see from her. I watch a single tear stream down her cheek as she processes what I just told her.

"Damn... I wasn't close to her, but that girl had such a life ahead of her... and what an awful way to go..."

She doesn't question my nonchalance as she knows how my grieving works.

I put my sunnies back on.

"If we could maybe skip school today, that would be great."

"Sure, sure, of course."

She turns the key in the ignition, steps on the gas, and we go.