Rule 1: Show no sympathy.

Rule 2: Put all joking aside. Even if she by chance generates humor, ignore it.

Rule 3: Show no care.

Rule 4: Put yourself first.

Rule 5: Humiliation and domination deserves a congratulations.

Rule 6: Don't let her overcome your thoughts.

Rule 7: Make her constantly regret cheating.

Rule 8: Think of ways to make her life hell, but don't make her know you're putting thought into it.

Rule 9: You're a bachelor. Even though you've got a hot girl at your house doing whatever you want, go out and get another girl. Just because you can.

Rule 10: Above all else, remember to do that one thing that you've been meaning to do for three years.

Ten rules, written out in my messy handwriting, in the second-person narrative. Ten rules. Ten simple instructions on how to behave while Sonny is here. Ten rules that I at first expected to be a piece lovely, soft, vanilla cake, with fluffy pink frosting spread on top. Maybe some chocolate sprinkles, too.

A few days in, and it's far from it.

Sonny has been testing each and every one of these words on the guideline, as if she studied it thoroughly and decided it would be fun to see how many she could get me to disobey. I put up a forceful struggle, though. So forceful, that my mood varied by the minute. I'd unintentionally let my guard down, then when I realized it, I'd become even meaner than before to cover it up. Sonny was shaken up and upset by it at first, but I think she's gotten used to it. Even though I had managed to somewhat follow the ten rules I set up, I had an extra hard time with six. She was always in my thoughts, haunting me. When that happened, I found myself mourning the old Sonny she used to be, and cursed her at the same time.

"Sonny." I breathed, when I heard her enter the room.

"You read?" she asked, referring to the book in my lap.

"Obviously."

She brushed off my sarcastic remark and sat down on the wooden chair next to me. I looked up from the page I was on and over to her, as she was staring off into space.

"What do you want?" I asked emotionless, making sure to apply rule number three. Which, technically, I had already violated three times due to her new self-destruction kick.

"I'm bored."

"Did you finish doing everything on the chore list I gave you earlier?" I asked.

"Everything." she assured me.

"You cleaned out the pool?"

"Toilet too." she confirmed, picking at her nails.

It was only four o' clock, and I had really counted on Sonny working all day. I was going to finally apply Rule 9, which I had extremely lacked to do ever since she got here. I used to go out every night. Why was I going to bed before midnight now all of a sudden? It's all good though. It only takes a week to form a habit, and I've only been a no-parties-stay-home-at-night-and-turn-in-early kind of guy for three evenings now. It's not too late. I can still have a life. There's still hope for me.

"There's got to be something around here for you to do." I said, standing up and departing from my tranquil, once quiet chair. Sonny staying home alone with nothing to do was a last resort for me. I didn't know what I expected exactly, but I know for sure that I didn't trust her. What if someone else stopped by and she tried to turn them against me, too? What if it was somebody important, and she wormed her way back into the hearts of the people of Hollywood, just like she did with Tawni? What if all of the work I put into getting her out was in vein? I know Sonny. Or, Allison. What ever name, the fact remains, that she hates it when people interrupt her work. If she was, say, washing the dishes, and someone knocked on the door, she'd shoo them away in a rush to get back to what she was doing. However, if she had nothing to do but relax…well…

You know what they say about idle hands.

I walked out of the library (which I only entered when I was either bored out of my mind or avoid something or someone) with a purpose. Each and every step signaled to Sonny who was trailing behind me that I was definitely on a mission. I looked around the spotless living room, desperate to find a speck of dirt somewhere. "Chad, do you not trust my work or something?"

I raised from off of my knees where I was inspecting every inch of the carpet, and sprinted into the kitchen, only to find it just as the living room. Sparkling freaking clean.

"Bet you didn't vacuum the whole second floor!" I exclaimed, and raced up the stairs. Which, by the way, were free of lint, to my dismay.

I looked frantically around my blue-carpeted hallway, jumping around like a maniac. I purposely gave her a list of at least one hundred things to do for the day. She had to take some sort of shortcut. And I was going to find it. I must have spent the next half an hour or so running around my gigantic house, searching in every room for something that needs to be done. She couldn't have possibly done everything, right?

I finally hung my shoulders low in defeat. "How did you do it?" I inquired.

"Did what?" Sonny's perky voice asked from behind me. Her tone was the chipper, beautiful sound that I had been craving to hear ever since she arrived as Allison. But now, it annoyed the hell out of me. It made me want to pounce. Scream. Go freaking crazy. Or, crazier than I had been going for a little while now. I turned around, and saw Sonny eye me up and down as if I had gone mentally insane. I was breathing heavily, and I was desperately trying to convey my frustration through my eyes. I grunted and pulled my hair madly.

"Should I…call a doctor?" Sonny asked, slowly backing away.

"No! You should just…stop cleaning so fast!" I screamed at her.

"So…I'm thinking I should call a doctor?"

"No. No. You know what you should do?" I started, running to the library where we first started. I glanced around the room spastically, and then ran to one of the book shelves. I took my arm, and knocked a row of thick books on the ground with a loud thud, which caused Sonny to jump.

"You should clean that up!" I yelled, and walked out of the room, completely stressed; leaving a very confused and startled Sonny behind.

Forget moody. Chad Dylan Cooper is freaking insane. Like really, what the crap? I bent down and scooped the scattered pile of books off of the floor, placing them carefully in random order on the now empty wooden book shelf. After scanning the floor, I noticed that only one book was left. The cover was a burgundy color, with bold black letters on it simply titled: Mental Disorders.

Something about these two words stuck out. Something told me I should take the meaning into consideration. And something told me that it had to do with Hollywood's hottest bachelor, Chad Dylan Cooper.

Suddenly, it all came together for me. I had seen it before. My uncle has the same condition Chad might have, and I have to deal with his ever-changing moods every freaking day. I opened the dusty book, and looked in the contents for the particular disorder I had in mind. Once I found it, I flipped to page 249, and studied the symptoms.

Inflated self-esteem

Unusual energy

Less need for sleep

Impulsiveness

Rapid change of extreme mood

It all made sense now. Chad Dylan Cooper and the words "inflated self-esteem" just go together like peanut and butter. Unusual energy would explain the jog around the house he had just finished, which would go along with impulsiveness. And why else would he always wake up super early in the morning just to lay around doing nothing? Well, that is when he's not running around the house like a crazy person.

*Call a doctor if you notice some of these symptoms in a family member or close friend. Note: Persons with bipolar disorder often deny anything is wrong, especially in the manic phase. If you are worried about a family member or close friend, a doctor can offer advice on how to handle the situation.

I closed the book with concerned thoughts running through my head. Backstabbing, lying, evil, crazy, scary, pig-headed, loser ex-boyfriend or not, Chad was a person. A person with a medical condition that needed to be brought to his attention as soon as possible.

I stepped from outside of the library cautiously, careful not to set Chad off again. I eventually found him in the kitchen, his face resting in his hands.

"Chad," I started quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Can you…can you look at me, for just a second?" I asked.

He slowly raised his head from out of his palm, and looked me in the eyes. I was startled how magnet-like they were. I had been careful not to directly look into his bright blue eyes since I got here. Sure, I had slipped a few times, but never like this. Chad's eyes were powerful, yet deadly. Just like that giant snake on one of the Harry Potter movies, who could kill (or was it freeze?) people, just by making eye contact. I looked down, yanking myself out of my daze.

"Chad…I think you have bipolar disorder." I finally said confidently, even though I was fiddling nervously with the end of my sleeve.

I anxiously read his facial expression, searching for some sort of a response. Eventually, I got one. It just wasn't the kind I wanted. He bursted out with laughter, his blue eyes sealed shut as salt water poured from them. He was gripping his chest as if he was having a heart attack, although I knew he wasn't, thanks to his permanent smile. "It's not funny, Chad. This is serious."

His laughter died down a bit as he noticed the seriousness in my tone. "You…you really think…I'm bipolar?" he asked between breaths.

"Yes, and I really think you should see a doctor."

"Wow…Sonny…are you for real?"

"Yes. I am." I confirmed. He wiped his tears away, then stood up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Wow. Maybe you really do need a break." he stated.

"I need a break?" I scoffed. "You're the one running around this house like a maniac!'"

"So? I just…wanted exercise." he said, obviously making excuses for himself.

"It's okay, Chad." I comforted. "My…uncle, is bipolar." I shuddered when I referred to that…man.

"Wow. You have no room to talk, Sonshine. You're the one who probably has depression."

"Already diagnosed, Chad. A year ago." I informed him.

"So what you're trying to tell me is, you, a girl who was diagnosed with a mental disorder, is accusing me, a perfectly stable person, of having one, too? You've been around your crazy family too much. Not everyone is mentally insane," he said. "I bet your entire family is sick. You probably get it from your mom. I remember how paranoid she used to act. She's why you're all fucked up."

The only thing holding me together through the past few days snapped within me. My conscience simply faded away. If I wasn't going to kill Chad, I was definitely going to hurt him. I felt like my spirit was snatched from my body, as I watched myself impulsively walk up to Chad and slap him as hard as I possibly could. "Asshole." I muttered.

Chad held his red, stinging cheek. I could see a tiny bit of tears involuntarily wet his eyes from the intense pain I hope I caused. My satisfied smirk faded away as my spirit slipped back into my angry body. I shuddered at his intense, hateful blue eyes. I tried backing away, hoping I could make a run for it, but he grabbed my arm before I was free.

He held me close to his body, glaring at me with intense fury. I tried to make my eyes appear as tough as possible, but I could feel the terror in them. "I'm not going to hit you back," he said. I hadn't even considered that he would. I knew he would never go that far. But still, I felt pain coming from my wrist, which he was squeezing tightly. "I don't know what I'm going to do. But I do know that I'm way too pissed at you right now to look at your hideous face any longer." he sneered, his eyes narrowing at me.

"I'm going out." he eventually said, releasing my arm from his cold grasp. I followed him to the door, strangely not wanting him to leave.

"I'll be back by dinner. I don't know what I want to eat. Surprise me. Watch some TV or something while I'm gone. Bye." was all he said, not even looking at me. He slammed the door, causing the figurines and plants around it to shake, along with me.

At least I finally got to slap him.