My parents have always said the family’s trouble in money began when they had me. This has never been said as a joke. They’re serious.
As a kid, we always had animals. Cats, dogs, lizards, and rodents. My parents are vets. The animals caused a lot of trouble. They knocked over breakables; spilled things; ate things they shouldn’t have. They never received punishment. Mother and Father said it was my fault. I was clumsy and couldn’t take orders when it came to things I wasn’t supposed to do.
In school, I was an easy target. People often cheated off of me because I was too focused to look up and see it happening. When they were caught, they said I allowed it. No matter how much I denied the accusations, the teachers never believed me.
I’m sixteen now and nothing has changed at all. I’ve just been expelled from school for the first time. I’ve been accused of stealing someone’s newest release smart phone. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but the case of the phone was limited edition with real diamonds imbedded in it, and cost more than the phone itself. A lot more.
You know, sitting here writing this, grounded again from just about everything but being in my room thinking about the meaning of life, it has become blatantly apparent to me: I’m blamable.
When I try to point out the real culprit when I get in trouble, I am accused of playing the ‘Blame Game’. It’s such a stupid term. There is nothing game-like about false accusations. Games are fun. There isn’t anything fun about being punished for something I didn’t do.
So I’ve decided something. My life is literally on the fast track to nowhere. My family hates me, I’m friendless. Everyone already blames me for everything. Almost, at least.
So why not meet them halfway? If it’s going to happen, why not beat them to the blame? And take it to the next level, too! Make it everything, already! Get it over with.
If you’re in trouble, I’m your girl! Fights? Hey, I’m a trouble maker, right? It isn’t too farfetched. Drugs? Even with no proof, I’ll confess! Murder? Why the hell not?! I must be insane with a plan like this! I could be considered homicidal!
So I’ve been playing the Blame Game, huh?! No, no. I haven’t even started!! Up to this point, everything is petty! You wanna blame me?! Bring it on!!
I don’t just ‘play’ the Blame Game anymore.
I rule it.
Prologue:
“Fable, you need to stop!”
“You just don’t get it, do you?!” I shriek at him. The lightning strikes a nearby tree. “There is no ‘stopping’, Todd! I can’t stop!”
“You’re insane!”
“So what?! Most everyone is insane! Insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result! So yes: I’m fucking insane!!” I laugh hysterically.
“Quit it with the factual bullshit!” He shouts over the thunder. “Just admit it already! You need help! I can help you!”
“’Help’?!” I repeat, spitting the word out like poison to the sky. “And I suppose with this ‘help’ there will be no more blame, huh?! That they’ll just stop?! That there’ll be no one saying I deserve all this for upping the stakes?!” I look at him again. “They’ll never believe that is wasn’t me now! Know why? DO YOU?!” I scream. “No one has ever believed a single word Fable Sinclair has ever said!! I say the world is round and people would rather go back to thinking it’s flat than believe me!”
“This is conspiracy! Murder! How could they all believe it was you?!”
“Is your skull really that thick, Todd? Haven’t you learned by now that everything is my fault?!” A thought strikes me. “Everything… Yes, everything…” I say quietly. “Maybe it really is all my fault,” I say louder, so he can hear. “All those times when I was young. The murders. What if it really was me? I just might be crazy, Todd. Crazy enough to not realize I really was playing the Blame Game the whole time.” I run closer to him. “Think about it, Todd! No one is around me! I don’t have alibis! I could easily have killed them!” I smile manically. “I could be the homicidal maniac everyone’s been looking for… Fable Sinclair, the Butcher of Brinxton. Has a nice ring to it, dontchya think, Todd?!”
“Listen to yourself!” he cries desperately. “You couldn’t have killed the football player! He’s three times your size, for Pete’s sake!”
“You’re right…” I grin. “Maybe you helped me…”
“What?!!”
“You don’t have friends either. An’ you’re always hanging around me. You could be just as crazy as I am!” I laugh and spin in the rain, lightning shattering the sky. “Fable Sinclair and Todd Cayton, the Butchers of Brinxton! New age Bonnie and Clyde! Thing about it, Todd! All the people we’ve killed! Oh, the blood, the blood, the sheer RAIN of blood! We’re invincible!” I laugh again, for longer, at a higher pitch, and until I have to swallow the rain that has fallen to my lips. “Oh, the glorious havoc we could bring down on these pitiful people, Todd! All of our nay-sayers and doom-wishers will be doomed!”
“Fable, it wasn’t us! We’ve been hanging out since the murders! That’s all! Last week we saw a movie. And we played video games! We ate strawberries! I know you remember that!” He’s smiling encouragingly, his eyes searching my face for some sign that I’ve returned to reality.
“Todd! Just live with it! Stop denying! If we’re going to be murderers, we can’t dwell on the past, anyway!”
But I am dwelling on the past.
The past two months, mostly. Before people started dying.
Before things really were becoming my fault.
