Five months ago, on April 7th, was the worst day I had experienced in a while. It was the three of us, David, William, and me. I was the small one of the group. It seemed like every other day I was being picked on and teased, but one day, a day proving to be good, I was dared, even though I knew it was foolish (adverb clause closer), I couldn't just turn away and run from it. The Ice Salt Challenge, a burn, leaving an ever lasting scar on your skin. .
It started at my house, after school we all started to gather around in a circle. We played dare or double dare, kind of like truth or dare but "double-dare" is an even more insane dare. Once we had started playing (adverb clause opener), at about half way through the game, David, the meanest kid I knew, stood up and questioned, "Sebastian, dare or double dare?" I, unknowing of what he would dare me to do, panicked and unwillingly responded, "Double dare." That was the end of me. There was a long pause before he said anything. The fear. The anticipation of what he was going to say was unquestionably high. At last, David finally said, in a dark creepy voice, "I double dare you to do the ice salt challenge." I tried to say no, but they practically kept on nagging and nagging me to do it. .
I, knowing the damage it can cause (participial phrase split), helplessly and very cautiously started to pour the salt on my forearm. Although my conscience told me not to, trembling with fear I took the ice and placed it on my arm. Almost instantly my eyes lit up. I yelled. The agony, the torture, the horrifying pain was killing me alive. I could not stand the terrible grief that i was going through. By the time five minutes had passed, I couldn't take it anymore. Without hesitating, I took the ice off, revealing a white blistering imprint from the ice. At first, my skin looked red as if somebody peeled off all of it, and just left it there exposed to the air.