Walking, Talking Anxiety

A Two Taled Account of Angstybitch

Ok, let me just casually point something out; my family is...crazy.

I'm not kidding.

Shit hits the fan like 4 time a week.

Of course, there's no abuse or anything like that. We just have a problem.

And that problem's name is (for the sake of anonymity) Angstybitch.

Meet my stepsister, Angstybitch.

Now, I'll disclaimer right now that yes she has a mental problem, but that problem is purely related to her anger issues (and probably her psychopathy) not anything else about her. Her personality is not impacted (besides in the obvious way) because of this mental illness. She's naturally a bitch.

Yes, she has a problem, everyone feels bad for her, and yes we do the best we can to help her out. But. Most of these issues are only started because she starts them.

Anyways. This first story is just going to give you a little context on what it's like to live with Angstybitch.

Angstybitch has a halfsister named (again, for the sake of anonymity) Shelly. Shelly is super cool and nothing like her halfsister. She's also my friend, and has told me many a tale about Angstybitch.

A special one goes a little like this:

Shelly and her boyfriend were both at her family's old house (my step family has moved in and out frequently for the obvious reason: Angstybitch) and, much to their disgruntlement, not alone.

Angstybitch was home.

Now, I'm not saying me, Shelly, or any of the rest of my family are saints. Because, yes, we all have gotten pissed at her and said something we've regretted. (Well, I write shit, but I'm actually an akward pushover. I've barely interacted with Angstybitch. It's the principal of the thing)

But, as Shelly says, when you live with someone who doesn't appreciate what anyone does, who takes and never gives, who demands that you do everything for them, who gives attitude all the time, living with them gets really tiresome.

Unlike me, Shelly has confidence and a "don't test me" attitude.
So, Angstybitch was screwing around and Shelly got in her face about it.

Although tempting, not the smartest, because Angstybitch is like a fire; the more oxygen you waste on her, the stronger she gets.

So, Angstybitch did the most normal of reactions.

She picked up a knife.

And chased Shelly into a bathroom.

Shelly was pretty much hulk furious and deadly terrified at that point, because Angstybitch was throwing herself at the door and stabbing at it.

And, best part, no lock on the door.

Luckily, her boyfriend was on the case, and promptly called the police, which is what usually happens in these sort of alterations.

They arrived, calmed her down, and then everything was normal again.

At least, as normal as you can get when you live with Angstybitch.

Now that we have a little context, let's talk about The Underwear Incident.

Turns out, Angstybitch is weird too.

For context to this story, me and Shelly share a room together, and for a long time, we didn't have a door because the space we live in used to be a storage room downstairs.

Now, we were suspicious of Angstybitch stealing some of our food to begin with. An oreo or twelve would disappear while we were away at the Glories of High School.

But this was a whole new weird.

There are three bathrooms in the house; one downstairs where me and Shelly live, one in the upstairs playroom for the kids, and one in our parents bedroom.

Me and Shelly's bathroom doesn't have a shower, so we have to use the one upstairs in the playroom.

Here's something to know about Shelly; she's very protective of her stuff. It's natural to feel that way, because we live in a house with nine people in it.

So, when she goes to take a shower, she takes her own soaps and razors and whatever with her, and takes it right back down with her. Same with clothes. Also note, Shelly owns some really nice, lacy, ehem, lingerie. (She's 18)

I know this as I go up one night to take my shower.

As I enter the bathroom, I first grimace at the disgustingness that is the kid's bathroom; the trashcan is full of badly wrapped used pads and tampons, the disgusting sink, there's dirty clothes all over the floor.

Wait.

Is that...?

I see a pair of lingerie on the floor.

With period blood stains on them. Fresh period blood stains.

First things first, Angstybitch is 13. No way in Hell would her mom ever ever buy her lingerie.

Secondly, sure, it could maybe, possibly, in some astronomically low chance have been Shelly.

But, the thing is, Shelly never wears her lingerie on her period because she's not a dumbass, and she never would leave her fancy, really expensive underwear laying around in the kid's bathroom for some kid to wipe their ass with.

Angstybitch had stolen my stepsisters underwear.

For what purpose, I full heartedly never want to know.

So, I turn heal back downstairs and tell Shelly, thoroughly weirded out, and also indignant on my stepsister's account.

After I tell her what I saw, Shelly...was pissed.

She walked right up to Angstybitch and confronts her, telling her how weird it is, and that Shelly has done some unwholesome things in that underwear, that she should be ashamed.

Needless to say, Angstybitch was thoroughly cowed.

We haven't had an incident like it since.