Gemotions

The email arrived like a punch to the gut. Michael, the one who had made her life hell throughout elementary school, wanted to connect. Sarah's breath hitched in her throat. Her blood ran cold. The request felt like a trap, a return to a time she'd worked so hard to bury.

She slammed the laptop shut, the sound sharp and aggressive. She felt a wave of nausea wash over her. It was as if she'd been physically struck. She paced her apartment, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. She clenched her fists until her knuckles were white.

She sank into the sofa and hugged herself tightly. The room spun. The memories, those brutal, unwanted memories, began to resurface. She focused on the rhythm of her breathing, trying to calm the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.