Gemotions

He stayed in bed until the afternoon, the sheets tangled around him like a suffocating shroud. The curtains were drawn, the room cloaked in perpetual twilight, a reflection of the darkness that had settled within him. He hadn't showered in days. Food sat uneaten on the bedside table. His days were spent in a stupor, and he knew he needed help.

He had gone to see a therapist, and as the door swung open, his heart sank. It was Richard, the boy who had once called him a weakling and a coward, now wearing the mask of a compassionate listener.

"Come in, Michael," Richard said, his voice smooth and controlled. Michael wanted to disappear.

"So," Richard continued, "What brings you here today?" He felt like he was sinking.