Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even messier than before. The room felt smaller, the air thick with an oppressive silence. Liam had trusted Mark, considered him a friend. He’d left his journal on his desk, thinking it was safe, a sanctuary for his private thoughts. He’d discovered the transgression the night before, when he'd come back to his room and found his journal open.

He felt the sting behind his eyes, a familiar ache. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words caught in his throat. He just wanted to disappear. He clutched his sweatshirt tighter, its worn fabric offering a small, inadequate comfort.

A knock. "Hey, dude, can we talk?" Mark’s voice was hesitant, almost apologetic. Liam didn't respond. He knew it wouldn't make a difference. The damage was done.