I knew I was in trouble. I could feel my heart sinking and my stomach turning inside out. There he was, sitting and glaring at me, waiting for me to make the next move. Say the next word. Leaving the ball in my court. Would I be mean and justify what he was likely going to do to me next? Would I be nice and get out of here without being forced to the ground to do his bidding? I didn’t know what was going to happen next, and truthfully I did not want to find out.