An Infestation.

The Good, The Bad, And The Dirty.

Things almost never fall back into place after a big reveal. Things have to change, that's the point of even saying it: to have a change, for the worst or for the best. Yet it was a bit awkward to say the word 'Mom' and not 'Dad.' Anxiety is used to saying 'Dad' and Morality would come in running in with a large smile and a giant jar of cookies. But now he says the word 'Mom', Depression comes in.

Anxiety sighs as he walked out of his room and into the living room and sat down on the couch. The loveseat couch was a velvet back with roses stitched into the arms, and the back of the couch faced the kitchen.

He heard humming coming into the kitchen and knew that it was Depression. Anxiety still couldn't narrate her as his mother, not yet. There was rustling in the kitchen and he heard the a cupboard open and the sliding of two glass plates against each other.

When he turned around, Anxiety didn't expect her to have her hair length reduced to having it hovering over her shoulder and having a real rose stuck behind her left ear. She wore a simple black dress that reaches right over her knee, a black blazer with a the design of a rose on the lapel, and black see-through tights that she combined with black stilettos.

Depression hummed something that sounded like classical music as she poured the boiled water into the mug and put a tea bag in. She then picked it and walked over to the living room and hands Anxiety the mug. He took it, shy, and then his eyes followed her as she walked back into the kitchen.

Anxiety looked down and saw the tea bag floating around in the mug, he looked up again and said, "Mom?" The word making a strange feeling on his tongue.

She turned around, "Yes, dear?" Depression was in front of the bookshelf that was in the corner of the living room when she turned to face him. Anxiety always found it strange that, even if he there were no titles on the books, he swore that they change every day. Except for one book; the blue one that she always reads around the house. Anxiety wonders what's so interesting about that book.

"What's with you giving me 'stress relief' tea?" He asked as he held the cup into a death grip. Wow, dramatic, he thought, I'm turning into Princey. When Princey's name entered his thoughts, Anxiety felt something inside of him that filled with sadness and he suddenly felt hopeless. Do I miss him? Do I dare say that I miss him? No, never. Maybe because his memory was fresh in my soul, his smile engraved into my mind, and his words holding me up. A slow realization made tears gather in his eyes, but he blinked them away. No, I don't. Leave me alone... "I mean, my name is Anxiety for a reason, so giving me this tea is basically making me not myself."

She smiled sadly, with a hint of pity that hit Anxiety in the stomach like a brick. Depression then turned her head back to the bookshelf and pulled out the same damn book that Anxiety had grown familiar to. Her dress spun around her when she spun around to face him, her nose in the book while she looked through the pages with a furious speed; Depression then began to walk towards him, her index finger hovering over the words on the page as she pressed the back and spine of the book against her left palm. Then she yelled an "Aha!" as if a Eureka moment.

Depression cleared her throat and began to read out loud, "Anxiety, noun: a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an immenent event or something with an uncertain outcome." Anxiety opened his mouth to debate when she hushed him up by putting her hand up as a halt. "Not so fast, kiddo. There's another definition: 'Anxiety (the psychological meaning) a nervous disorder charactirized by a state of excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behavior or panic attacks'"  She gave him a look and raised an eyebrow. "So, which one do you think you are?"

Memories and flashbacks hit him like a wave, he remembered what the others calls him. That he was the bad guy, he was the villain, he was the reason that Thomas suffers-- a tear slid down his face but he didn't noticed. Anxiety began to play with his fingernails, peeling off the edge around them, he began to feel dizzy and his stomach felt like he ate something heavy and then rode a rollercoaster. When he spoke, his voice came out shaky and at almost a whisper, "The--The others used t-to say tha-that I was the bad guy..."