The voice on the other end of the phone was my own.

My wife slumped against the doorframe, staring blankly at the floor as she handed me the cordless. “Some crazy guy on other end, said he wanted to talk to you, so I gave him the phone,” she said. I frowned. Who could be calling that late at night? I held the phone up to my ear. “Hello?” “Yeah, is your wife there? I couldn’t catch her name.” It was a man’s voice, deep, rounded at the edges; I couldn’t quite place it. I frowned. “Sorry man, who is this?” The line crackled. “Come on, don’t mess with me,” the voice on the other end growled. “You *owe* me.” “Owe you? I don’t even know who this is.” The line crackled again, and the voice on the other line dropped to a whisper. “I *watch* you. Every little detail of your life bores me. I know your wife’s name is Hannah, that you guys are trying for a baby. I know your favorite food is pasta, your favorite color’s green. You don’t know the first thing about me.” I frowned. Hannah was right, some nutcase. I didn’t recognize the voice, so it *couldn’t* have been anyone from work. I sighed inwardly, hoping that this prank call wouldn’t last too long. “Yeah, okay, *who is this*?” “Why’s that important?” “I just want to know,” I snapped. “Me,” he said. “Maybe *you’re* the crazy one, and I’m just your conscience.” I frowned. *Why* would someone play a prank like this on me, all of a sudden? “Look,” I said. “If you’re just gonna goof around on the phone, I don’t have time.” “Oh, it’s plenty your time,” the voice on the other end said. “I’m the one wasting mine.” “Then why don’t you just hang up?” I snapped. “I can’t,” he said. There was a pause. “I’m you.” I frowned. “Who is this?” “I told you,” his voice was rising. “I’m *you*.” “Who *is* this?” “I SAID I WAS YOU, GODDAMMIT.” I winced at the screech on the other end of the line, and Hannah frowned at me. “You okay, honey?” I nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She walked away, giving me a skeptical look. The voice on the other end of the line was silent, heavy with breathing. “Why are you doing this?” “I told you,” the voice snapped. “I’m your conscience.” “Why would my conscience be tormenting me?” I asked. “I’m not tormenting you, I’m warning you.” “Warning me about what?” “What?” The voice was exasperated. “You really *don’t remember*?” “Remember what?” “I gave you the gun,” he said. “I gave you the money. I gave you the car. You understand what you have to do now.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about, dude.” “If we’re ever caught–” “We *weren’t* caught,” I snapped. “Because we never did anything.” “Shut up,” he said. “I’m telling you *now*, while I still have the chance. If we’re ever caught, we kill ourselves.” “*Who is this*?” “I’m telling you *for the last time*,” the voice on the other end of the line was trembling. “I’m you.” “Who. Is. This.” “I AM YOU.” *Maybe it actually was me*, I thought. Maybe this was my split personality, maybe I was ourselves a schizophrenic. I didn’t feel crazy, but maybe that was the point. Maybe I was too far gone to notice it. I thought about all the weird things I’d done as a kid, all the strange habits– The voice on the other end was talking again. “Maybe it’s better this way. I can’t actually do it, can I? Maybe it’s better that I couldn’t do it.” “Do what?” “Maybe Hannah’s better off without you.” “Hannah?” The voice on the other line started to laugh, a cold, mirthless sound. “You idiot. You think she loves you? She hates you almost as much as I do.” “Me?” “Just kill yourself,” he snapped. “Kill yourself, and put this damn body to rest.” “Look, if–” “I *hate* you,” he said. “And I’m going to do it.” There was a click. I held the phone up, staring at it. Hannah walked up behind me. “Hey, you okay? You look kinda pale.” I turned, forcing a smile. “Yeah no, I’m fine.” She frowned. “Who was that?” “Uh, I don’t know,” I said. “Some guy saying he was my conscience.” “Your *conscience*?” I nodded. “I know, right?” “Asshole,” she said. “I hope he gets cancer.” I chuckled. “You going to bed?” I shook my head. “No, I’m gonna grab a walk.” She frowned. “It’s kinda late–” “I feel like clearing my head,” I said. “Fine,” she said. “I’m going to bed.” I nodded, and walked out the front door. The walk was nice. It was a warm night, with just a hint of autumn coolness in the breeze. I walked through the woods. I thought about the voice on the other end of the line. *Had it really been my split personality?* I thought about my life, about my wife. *But why would my split personality want to hurt it?* I thought about work. *Nope, couldn’t be that.* I thought about my friends. *None of them would do that, even as a joke.* I kept walking. As I rounded a bend in the path, I heard rustling ahead. I frowned, and rounded the corner. A man lay on the ground, moaning. I rushed to his side. “Sir?” “H–help me,” he groaned. I kneeled on the ground. “What happened?” “I–I was walking,” he started. “And something hit me, and I fell down. Then…then a man put a gun in my mouth.” A chill ran down my spine. I reached into his pocket to find his phone and call 911. My hand brushed against something hard and cold. *Maybe it was a pipe or something,* I thought. *Maybe it was a gun.* *Maybe it was a pipe that looked like a gun.* *Maybe it actually was a gun.* *Maybe I should pull it out.* *Maybe I shouldn’t.* I thought about the voice on the other end of the line. *Maybe Hannah hated me and I should kill myself.* *Maybe I should just kill her instead.* *Maybe we were both better off dead.* I *watch* you. *Maybe I really was.* I tugged on the object. It was a gun. I pointed it at the man’s head. “I’m you,” I said. Then I pulled the trigger. As I walked back to my house, the gun still warm in my hand, I realized that the voice hadn’t sounded anything like me.

The voice on the other end of the phone was my own.

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