Gemotions

"Plagiarism," the word, thrown at her, felt like a slap. Olivia’s hands clenched into fists; she had to stop herself from lashing out. The professor’s words, devoid of any warmth, stung. It was a condemnation, a judgment. She felt a cold wave wash over her.

She retreated to her room, the vibrant colors of her posters mocking her. She threw herself onto her bed, burying her face in the pillows. The room felt stifling. She kicked off her shoes, then pulled the covers over her head, wanting to disappear. The silence of the room was interrupted only by her ragged breathing.

She stayed there, alone, for hours.