"I HATE YOU!"
"Stop pulling my hair RIGHT NOW!"
Whimpering, "Let go of my wrist. You're hurting me"
"I'm gonna tell mom if you don't get your hands off me."
She didn't. Not until mom walked into the bathroom and saw us.
Facing each other.
Me pulling her hair down so hard she was almost on the ground.
Her with her fake nails digging into my wrist, blood gushing out.
We were grounded from each other indefinitely. Would have worked too, no more fights, no more hating each other periodically, if we hadn't of loved each other so much that we had to start talking again.
But really, that's what sisters do.