Gemotions

"What the hell…?" Mark muttered, the phrase barely audible above the pounding in his ears. The published diary entries felt like a physical blow. He felt a deep, uncomfortable pressure in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to make someone pay for this.

He went to the cupboard. He needed something to occupy his hands. He grabbed the old baseball bat from the cupboard and walked into the backyard. He started swinging, with increasing force, until his arms ached.

The world was suddenly too loud, too bright. He felt a burning sensation in his eyes, a desperate need for release. He kept swinging, at an imaginary foe, until exhaustion finally began to overcome the rage.