Gemotions

The rain hammered against the bus window, mirroring the relentless drumming in Amelia's head. Everything felt heavy, as if she were wading through molasses. She slumped deeper into her seat, the worn fabric doing little to soothe the coiled tension in her shoulders. The appointment loomed, a necessary evil, but the thought of it made her stomach churn.

Her therapist’s office was in the same building as the old high school. She'd been a mess back then.

As she entered the waiting room, she saw a familiar face behind the receptionist's desk. It was Mark, her childhood tormentor, now with a gentle smile and a nametag that read “Dr. Mark Harrison, LPC.”

“Amelia? Come on back,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm. A shiver skittered down her spine, the past clawing at the present.