The Exotic Challenge

9 • Papercut

[ Papercut: The Bleeding/Idiot Challenge ]

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A loud piercing scream echoed the house for about two minutes straight as I was taking a bath.

My slippers slapped across the tiles as I walked as fast as I could towards the direction of where the scream was heard.

The place was also known as my sister's room located the attic (which could mean the whole house was shaken by the sound of her voice earlier).

"Goddamn it, Les," I whispered to myself as I brisk walked up the stairs, wrapped up only in a towel.

The bathroom was in the second floor so I had to pass about to flights of stairs to reach her room.

Leslie yelled again and I wonder what the héll happened to my older sister. She was older by age but like mentally? Uh, I don't think so.

She was like a baby kangaroo on drugs. Hyper all time and bouncing off to places the devil knows where.

I didn't ask permission to enter her room. I simply barged in, prepared to whatever shìt she did or deemed worthy to be exaggerated with.

My sister was on the floor, in a starfish position, hair sprawled out beneath her. Her phone was on her stomach and her face looked like she just had a good fùck.

She turned her head and grinned widely at me. It looked like it hurt. The way she grinned, I mean... She was so enthusiastic.

"Caro, oh my fuckíng gosh!" said Leslie and sprung up from her place. She hopped towards me, phone in her hand.

Leslie was a goddamn kangaroo, what'd I tell ya?

Her free hand was placed on my shoulder as she reached me. She seemed to ignore the fact I was wet (not in that way, you dirty minded whorès) and only in my towel.

"Look at this!" She screeched and waved her phone in front of my face so fast The Flash could be her sperm provider, not our 49 year old accountant dad.

"I can't see anything if you keep waving that thing in front of me like its the flag of Iceland." I pointed out at her.

My hair was still soaked. Water dripped down my back. I needed to blow dry it soon or I'll get pneumonia from standing here too long.

It was a lazy Saturday in our household. Our parents overslept and Matty, our little brother, was swimming in the pool with his best friend.

I thought that for a chill day like this Leslie's bubbliness would subside but it did not.

The phone stopped moving and my sister said a little too loudly, "Now, look at it!" She even shook my shoulders to emphasise the importance of her phone.

I scoffed, like I had any other choice but to look at it. It blocked my line of vision since it was only centimetres away from my face.

Squinting at my sister's iPhone, I saw that she was on her Instagram account and a photo of a guy clad in black was standing on top of a barrel, his hands spreading the sides of his jacket like he was the king of the world.

I lowered the phone only to come face to face with a crazy Leslie. She was grinning dreamily and her eyes was as gooey as a freshly baked Hersey chocolate chip cookie.

"So, you screamed like an ax murderer was chasing you because of that?"

She nodded and squealed. "Oh, isn't he so beautiful? Look at him. So... Angelic, ethereal. His hair seems to soft. Imagine running your hands through them. This is aesthetically pleasing."

She squeezed my shoulders and gushed more about this basic white boy.

"Get. A. Grip," I told my sister, each word with heavy indication.

"He's just a loserish basic fuckboy. Don't fuss over him."

Her gushing stopped. She looked at me like I was the ax murderer that broke in her bedroom.

"How dare you say that to my husband! Jack is amazing, kind hearted, and so not a fuckboy." She frantically said.

Ah, my sister the fangirl.

"I could go on the whole week explaining to you why he isn't a basic fuckboy like the rest of the male population is! You're so ignorant! It doesn't mean he is famous-"

I didn't even know this Jack Whiteass was famous. I thought he was fresh meat at our school... And he was Leslie's husband.

My sister was clearly an idiot.

I reached out for the first thing my hand touched and whacked her in the face.

The quiet followed as my whacking silenced Leslie.

Apparently, I grabbed a thin paperback we bought yesterday at the mall. It was on top of the table near where we stood near a lamp and a bottle of perfume.

Leslie faced me, shocked that I used a paperback to stop her from praising this 'ethereal blond stick'.

"You're bleeding," Huh. She got a papercut on her cheek. Is that even possible?

Now, Leslie let out a blood curling scream. She placed her phone on the table and immediately went to the mirror.

I hoisted my white towel up and made a move to leave my sister panicking over a small bleeding cut on her face.

Hey, at least, she stopped worshipping Jack.

Our mother stepped in the attic and said, "What's going on here?" as I made a move to open the door.

Leslie tore her eyes from the mirror and announced, "Mum! Caro hit me! With a book!"

"Are you bleeding? Why?" Our mum looked genuinely confused. But I would too, like her two daughters were talking in loud volumes at ten in the morning (still too early), the other in a towel and the other one in a purple kitten onesie.

"No, that's just paint- duh! It's blood! She got a papercut from the fricking book because only an idiot like her would get injured by a novel."

I shook my head, clearly knowing this lazy Saturday wouldn't be a lazy one soon. It'd be filled with unnecessary arguments, sarcastic remarks, and 'Wait, what?'s from Matty.

That's fine, you'd get used to living with weird, idiots, anyway.

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a/n: I am Leslie.

I apologise to my babyboo, Jack. I love you and I do not mean any of those harsh words. Everything that Leslie said is my words and bitchy Caro's words are the haters. Because JaCK IS NOT A FÙCKBOY. HE'S SWEET AND CARING AND INTELLIGENT. HE IS NOT BASIC. (though this one shot is basic as fuck and my titles are symbolic, okay. They have meaning haha... Try to guess them? No? Meh.)

-justthugs