Black Meets White

We Are Not Twins.

My middle finger salutes you.

Quinten's pov

Fuck.

I think I'm gonna have kittens. I'm so mad right now and the mere thought of what made me mad,makes me madder.

I'm not mad because Tamara decided to be a bitch she is but because my stupid brother decided to be a real pussy and support that bitch.

At this point, I think some people were just put on the planet to test my anger management skills.

And he fucking pulled her into his arms. Why do I care anyway? It's not like I like her or something. I'm supposed to hate all black people, right?

I rinse my mouth with the salty water for the umpteenth time and spit in the sink. I'm trying to lessen the pain I feel on my broken lip. Tamara will pay for this.

I'm about to leave the kitchen when the asshole decides to show up.

"Are you still mad at me?" He asks whilst pouring himself a glass of milk. He leans on the fridge playing with the glass, and stares at me.

He looks like a douchebag right now and it takes all of my patience to stop myself from punching him.

"For what? For fucking Cheryl or bad-mouthing me to my parents." I sneer. He gulps the milk and throws the glass into the sink. It lands without breaking much to my disappointment.

"You know what I mean Quinn." He points out.

Of course I do dickhead.

"Why were you on her side? You should've supported me,not her." My voice is small and I can barely hear myself.

"Tamara?" He asks while smiling cheekily. He knows her name already? How? And why does this hurt- No.

He smirks and I feel like giving him a high-five on the face with a chair.

"Because she was right. And I'll do it again and again." He announces with a goofy smile.

"Are you doing that to piss me off?" I voice my thoughts." Because you know I hate blacks?"

"No. The world doesn't revolve around you Quinn,it's not about you every time."

"You are going to stop talking to that black chick, that's if you still want to be my brother." It's an order and he laughs it off.

"If you hate blacks, that's up to you not me."  He says crossing his arms on the chest.

"You know why I hate them, they're the reason why I was..." I trail off not wanting to finish the sentence.

"Whoa. Calm down dude! You aren't going to blame every black person you come across for something that happened almost twenty years ago. That's insane."

"That's because you were never affected you punk!" I accuse.

"And I'm glad I wasn't. Being a psycho doesn't suit..."

Before we he finishes his sentence I grab his shirt and push him against the fridge.

"I'm not a fucking psycho you manwhore." I scoff through gritted teeth. My balled fist collides with his cheekbone flaying his neck backwards like a willow caught in the wind. My action certainly took him by surprise.

He stumbles and nearly fells over hitting the china cabinet which lands on the floor breaking into a million pieces.

"What the heck?" He cries, regaining his balance."Do you see what you've done you dick?"