Gemotions

The hospital room, once a place of hope, now felt like a prison. The wrong medical records mocked Kevin, their details listing conditions he’d never experienced. His fists were clenched so tight, his nails dug into his palms. He felt a cold rage building in his stomach, a fire that threatened to consume him. He hated the thought of people misinterpreting his health.

He rose from the bed with a jerk, his muscles tight. He needed to get away, to find someone who would listen, who would understand the magnitude of this error. "I need to speak to the head doctor," he demanded, his voice gravelly, barely audible over the hammering of his own heartbeat.