Sceptical​

Sceptical – Not easily convinced; having doubts or reservations

 

Paranoia pours herself another drink as she listens to what Trust has to say,

“We should tell her what’s happened, share our feelings, it’ll help us feel better in the end.”

Paranoia scoffs, twisting with a swish of her pitch black coat. An eyebrow raised she simply rolled her eyes at Trust’s childishness.

“But will it help us?” Doubt enquires, retouching her blood red lipstick, “Paranoia, tell her it’s not safe,”

“It’s not safe, Trust,” her heels click as she walks over to the sofa, “What about the judgement? What if she decides to leave when she finds out? What if she thinks we’re being clingy and desperate for attention?”

“It’s not worth the heartbreak Trust,” Doubt adds, brushing back Trust’s hair.

“I agree,” Fear says, entering the room, “It’s best we keep to ourselves.”

“I disagree,” Fear jumps as Love pops up behind her choosing to glare at the blonde.

“You’re irrational and blind to any consequences,” Anger pipes up from the corner of the room, her hands continuing to glide along the keys of the piano,” Remember what happened the last time you made decisions around here?”

“Hey! How could she have seen any of that coming?” Trust says.

“Exactly what we’re trying to tell you both,” Paranoia says calmly, “We don’t want any repeats of last time, do we?”

Silence falls over the room while Paranoia takes a sip of her whisky.

“We love her, we trust her, why not tell her?” Love says softly, tears threatening to fall.

Fear sighs and pulls Love into her arms,

“Because we’re scared of what will happen.”

Love simply held onto Fear as tears fell.

“I guess you guys are right,” Trust says, looking over at Doubt and Paranoia, “Last time was a mess, maybe I shouldn’t be making these decisions.”

“Glad you could see that Trust,” Doubt says, laying a manicured hand on her shoulder. Her sharp nails digging into Trust’s shoulder. Paranoia and Fear sighed in relief.

Brushing off her hand, Trust walked out of that room, mumbling excuse me’s. She opened the double doors and walked out as Guilt walked in, glassy-eyed and eerily silent. Her grey gown brushing the floor as she took a seat in the middle of the room.

“Oh no,” Fear said, backing away from Guilt, terror evident in her kohl-rimmed eyes.

“We’re going to have to live with her now,” Love piped up, pouring herself a drink, “Guilt won’t leave until Trust comes back.”

“I guess we are,” Paranoia said gripping her glass a little tighter,”Better get yourself another drink.”

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