Gemotions

He felt a cold sweat prickle his skin. He'd never told anyone about the incident with the red car, the one he swore he'd buried deep. But there it was, on page 142. The accident, the fear, the guilt – all laid bare. John ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. This wasn't possible. He scanned the rest of the book, his eyes darting frantically. The author, whoever they were, had chronicled his life with an unsettling accuracy. A wave of nausea rolled over him. He needed to get out, to breathe. He threw the book against the wall and left.