Isosceles Triangle

4 > more flesh than skin

It was the morning of August 9th that sort of began everything. Sure, it's a few months before, but it's when I began to figure out everything wrong with my lifestyle. I mean, I always knew that there was something incredibly wrong with it, but this was the time where everything happened all at once. Times got tough, pressure built up, and it hit a boiling point, ending in a major collapse.

I woke up later than usual because my alarm clock didn't go off (my theory was that Twist tampered with it). Dare was yelling at me to get "my lazy ass" out of bed. He said, "If you're not at the field in 20 minutes, I'll skin you."

I tore myself away from my bed and rushed to the bathroom to get ready. I had never been worried about being late for a meetup; I never took long to get ready. I take showers at night and gave up eating breakfast at home. All I have to do is brush my teeth,  put my dorky school uniform on, and put winged eyeliner on.

I exited the bathroom, eye liner painted on my eyelids and minty toothpaste perfuming my mouth, when ice water greeted me with frigid arms that pierced the warmth on my body. There was the nerve-snapping sound of cackling from a quite annoying teenage boy.

"Twist," I growl, gritting my teeth in fury and preventing the string of curses that were about to spew out of my shivering mouth.

"Payback, bitch!" he shouts, releasing the bucket from his hands and running wildly to the kitchen.

He was so lucky I hadn't gotten my uniform on yet. He'd have to walk around headless if I did have my uniform on.

I stopped to think about what he meant when he said, "Payback, bitch!" What did I ever do to him?

Okay, let me rephrase that. What did I ever do to him in the past twenty four hours?

I pushed that thought aside and continued to dress myself so I wouldn't be late. I've never been late to one of our morning meet-ups because I've seen the indescribable consequences of being late, and I don't plan on starting today. However, it's taking me a bit longer to get ready because a certain jackass just threw cold water all over me.

I was able to dry off and throw on clothes in less than five minutes. The threat that Dare uttered rings in the back of my mind and pumps gallons of adrenaline in my body. I couldn't shake it out of my head.

I pass by the kitchen on my way out of my room and notice a plate with a stack of cheep toaster waffles, also known as Twist's daily breakfast and possibly the most joy he can look forward to everyday. I looked around and didn't see Twist anywhere in the room and my straight faced transformed into a rictus of wiliness.

Oh, Twist, I thought schemingly. You really shouldn't leave your food unattended.

I snatched the waffles briskly like a cat snatching a fish and bolted out the door, horking down as many waffles as I could fit in my mouth. Once I was on the porch, the third and final waffle resting in my mouth, Twist bellowed my name with a raging volume.

The door bursts open, and a hand grasps my wrist and spins me around. My natural instincts took over and before Twist can make another move, I pinned him to the wall harshly, pressing my arm down on his chest. He struggled to escape my grasp but failed when I pressed down harder.

"Give me...my waffles," he seethed, his face red as a tomato.

Lucky for him, one was still resting in my mouth. I spat out the waffle that almost festered in my mouth since I wasn't able to swallow it. The slobbery waffle hit him right in the nose, stamping my saliva on it.