Gemotions

The request, from a name she hadn't heard in years, landed like a brick. "John Peterson." Emily’s vision swam. The familiar knot in her stomach tightened, threatening to choke her. She felt like she'd been submerged in cold water, the temperature dropping with every passing second.

She wanted to scream, to lash out. She felt a sudden urge to break something, anything. She shoved away from her desk, knocking her chair over. She hated the past, and she hated the person who was now trying to connect with her, as if all their actions were now forgivable.

She went to the bedroom and lay down on the bed, pulling the covers over her head, desperately seeking shelter. The past was like a persistent shadow, and she was trapped in its darkness.