“If he wasn’t gonna love me, he wasn’t gonna love anyone,” Anger growls like a wild fire.

“What!?” Fear stands.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” Hope smiles and hides a sickly cough as she helps Fear sit back down.

Happiness is laying on her death bed, barely breathing, her eyes are closed, her hands folded nicely across her stomach.

“There is no explanation,” Anxiety jitters, standing and pacing. “I don’t know what to do! What do I do?!”

“LISTEN!” Anger roars, slamming her fists down. A vein pops and throbs in her forehead. “Listen.”

“Anger… we’ve lost Joy. Shy has been dead. Happiness is dying. Hope is sick… we need a game plan,” Fear says hurriedly.

“I’m not me. I’m not sad,” Sadness says solemnly, her eyes dry.

Pain is stronger than ever, covered in blood and bits of dried bone. Licking her fingers, she grins. “I’m doing just fine.”

A shadow appears in the doorway. The emotions jitter and stand, bowing to their host. Slowly, she enters.

“Q-Queen.” Anxiety squeaks and runs to hide, “We need your help. Your control over us is t-too powerful. You’re killing us.”

The figure steps forward, two foot long golden brown slight curls spill over her shoulders. The shadows cling to her, swirling around her body as if they feed on it. She stands in an oversized T-shirt with no pants or shoes. Her bare limbs shake. Her lips part, and slowly she whispers the words; “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t know how. It’s too much, too hard, too strong. I’ve fought for so long.”

As the Queen falls to her knees,

bloody and broken, her fight gone:

Anxiety falls silent, the pacing stops.

Anger’s furious flame goes out.

Sadness stays just as solemn.

Happiness’ heart monitor quits.

Hope goes dark; depression.

Fear’s breathing slows…

And Pain stops feeding.

The queen curls into a ball on the cold floor, tucking her legs in the shirt. Her eyes close slowly, one last shiver runs though her body before she stays still, the fight gone from her. Her skin pales more than usual, taking on a blue hue and her skin goes icy cold. Her emotions lay dead around her, curled up in their corners.

Slowly, the shadows each lay a hand over the Queen’s body, bowing their heads and waiting to diminish.

“I’m so sorry,” the Queen whispers.