"what is going on here," robin exclaims in a thick southern accent.
"r-robin hey," daddy phillip stutters, rising up from behind you and stalking over to her.
just as he is attempting to give her a hug, she steps back. "ph-phillip..." she says, barely audible. she's quick to turn on her heel and run down the hallway in tears.
"robin it ain't what you think!" dr phil cries down the hallway, before falling to the floor. he clutches his shirt in defeat and begins banging his fist to the floor. 'why, why, why..."
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(a drawing i made this is basically what he's doing)
you get up from your chair and steadily make your way over to dr phil. you bend down next to him, but as you try to place your hand on his shoulder, he smacks it away and the next thing you know you are pinned against a wall.
"ph-phillip... what's going on." you're in full panic mode. his eyes are filled with hot tears and anger. this is no act of kinkiness.
"y/n... this is all your fault," he screams, "you have dissociative sociopathy disorder! you need extensive therapy to control the symptoms of years of abandonment and loneliness from your childhood!"
"that's not a professional diagnosis! you're acting on emotion over reason, one of the eight themes of greek myths that I learned in ms. keating's honors english one class!" you scream and run out of the room. you're crying too now, barely able to stay balanced as colors begin swirling around you. what just happened? what are you feeling? betrayal? anger?
you can't even focus and end up bumping into one of the producers, who leads you to a dressing room and keeps asking what's wrong. "i just want to go home" is all you can say.
