This Is The House That Doubt Built Lyrics Novels & Stories

I stayed crouched down on the floor as Paul slowly made his way towards me,he should have known better than to wear boots when he was trying to be sneaky. I don't even know where my footwear is because my feet were bare and it was starting to hurt at all the running I did with it. Paul is giving me a hard time,if not that mom made me promise not to kill him he stood to be dead by now for giving me such a hard time. "Stupid house". He muttered. If only he knew the dangers that lurked around he wouldn't be so calm about this. I placed my leg on his path and when he got there like a fool he tripped and fell.

It was tagged as an advice sticker. "Snuggle listened in on your conversation with your spouse and here is what we have to say. There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt. Doubt separates people. it is a poison that disintegrates friendships and breaks up pleasant relations. It is a thorn that irritates and hurts; it is a sword that kills."

Despite the doubts that swirled within my mind, a flicker of belief began to ignite. Taking a deep breath, I squeezed back his hands gently, my bodily tone filled with a mix of apprehension and determination. I started to doubt whether I was able to leave or not, my thoughts were laced with a cautious optimism. But trust was a fragile thing, easily shaken. Right now, I was struggling to find that trust in the midst of everything that has happened.

“I was afraid you had changed your mind. I’ve been looking forward to hearing from you.” “I admit that for a while I almost backed out, but it’s not because I don’t want to be in his life, but because I doubted that I was doing the right thing. I was afraid that I was going to make things worse if I went ahead with those plans.” Ava’s brown eyes stare deep into mine with an intensity that makes me squirm before she finally speaks. “As a mother, you’ll come to learn that those moments of doubt are a lot. You’ll always doubt whether what you are doing is good for them. You will always doubt if you are a good mother. You’ll always doubt every decision that you make concerning them.”

She yanked the door open. And left. The door slammed behind her. The echo felt like the house itself breaking apart. Silence swallowed the room again… but this time it wasn’t just tense. It was defeated. Heavy. Hopeless. My throat tightened as tears spilled down my face. I looked at Alex. He finally turned toward me. His expression wasn’t anger. It wasn’t certainty. It wasn’t faith. It was… Doubt. Real. Painful. Quiet doubt. Like a question forming in his mind that he couldn’t control.

Just a message, in my tidy handwriting: "I remember everything. I see everything. And I am back." Elira would see it. She had recognize the words, the only person who had ever heard me whisper them that day they turned me down, when I'd been broken and hoping and stupid enough to beg their pardon. But would she be brave enough to believe now? No. She would never do that. That was the idea. Doubt is worse than knowledge. Doubt spreads like a disease, crawling through even the best of minds. There will be sleepless nights. Hushed suspicions. Sullied camaraderie. Gaping fissures in the foundation they had so self-assuredly constructed.

“If I fall, then every whisper becomes truth.” For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, quietly: “And what if you win in a way they can’t deny? What if they see you master what they fear?” I shook my head, bitterness rising. “They’ll still doubt. They’ll always doubt. No matter what I prove, the mark will remind them.”

Struggling. Then baby Hope reached out. Her tiny hand touched Doubt’s form. Innocent. Trusting. Completely unafraid of the darkness. Doubt froze. The baby’s touch was warm. Real. Alive. Everything was not. “She trusts me,” Doubt said. Its voice was different. Softer. Uncertain. “She touches me without fear. She reaches for me without hesitation. She exists alongside me without judgment. Why? Why does she not fear me? Why does she not understand I want to erase her? Why does she not know I believe she should not exist?”

His hand lifted, hovering near my face before gently touching my jaw. “You’re allowed to doubt,” he said. “Just don’t lie to yourself about what you feel.” My breath caught. “I don’t know what I feel anymore.” “Yes, you do.” His thumb brushed lightly along my cheek. “You’re just deciding what to do about it.” That hit too close. Because he was right. The doubt wasn’t about him. It was about me. About the person I was becoming every time I walked through his door. About the line I’d already crossed. And whether I even wanted to go back.

I’m tired of pretending I’m not bleeding. “You still don’t believe me,” I whisper. “You chose another woman over me.” I meet his eyes, searching, begging without words. “Ask yourself,” I say. “Think with your heart. Do you really think I did all of that? That I’d make this up? That I’d lie to you?” His wolf shifts, unsettled. I feel it—his hesitation, his inner conflict—but it doesn’t matter. Because doubt isn’t trust. And doubt already cost us everything.