Not in a million years? I thought about his words later that night as I lay in my bed staring dejectedly up at the ceiling of my room. I was still, at that point, in shock. My mind ceased to function properly when I thought about what had occurred earlier that day.

Was it me? I thought to myself as I twiddled my thumbs, trying to think, Or was it the fact that I slapped him? At these questions, my split personality, the one no doubt responsible for the involuntary slap, emerged and assured me it was all my fault. And the insueing argument between myself and my “other half”, as I called her, raged on for nearly an hour. Then the doorknob suddenly jiggled and, trying not to look crazy, I conceded defeat just in time to see my mother walk through the door.