Gemotions

"Cody Johnson?" Michael's voice was a strained whisper. He read the name on the screen again, a cold shiver crawling up his spine. His palms felt slick with sweat. He remembered Cody's relentless pursuit, the constant teasing about Michael's weight, the way he isolated him.

Michael ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. The small room suddenly felt suffocating. He needed air, needed to get away.

He slammed his laptop shut, a visceral act of defiance. The world spun for a moment, and he felt a wave of nausea rise in his throat. He needed to be alone, to process this.