The longer I stand there, the more anger enters my bloodstream. I can feel it pulsing through me as his presence progressively becomes unavoidable. It’s times like these when I worry for my mental health, because my two personalities seem to be combating each other. One of them is screaming, she always is, she’s screaming about how everything wrong in her life is because of the scum standing behind her. I turn my head to see him in the spotlight, and he’s shuffling around uncomfortably. He appears to be speaking, but I can’t hear him over the screaming in my head. I start to believe her, and he notices my face change to fury. This is when the other side comes in, a more soothing voice, but she trembles in fear, not of the screaming half but rather of disappointing anyone who may hear her. She says to me, “Just go hug him,” she begs, “he’s perfect and you’re standing over here without him. You need to get over all this and just be with him.” I look at him again and try not to let the tears fall. He is still talking to me, I think, but I still haven’t caught a word. I thank the darkness for disguising my face, just in case he would care if I were crying. My personalities fight each other in this way for some time, and I am jerked around between them, helpless. Finally, I hear our cue, and I knock on the stage door. He yells his line and I try my best to transform into the  police officer that I am dressed as. When I walk on stage everyone sees the water gleaming on my cheek, but nobody says a word. I hope the director sees what she’s done.