Gemotions

Liam stared at the printout. “Chronic fatigue syndrome… and a history of… *self-harm*?” He re-read the words, each syllable a punch to the gut. He'd gone in for a simple check-up, a slight cough. The nurse’s questioning gaze felt like a judgement. He’d told her he felt fine, if a bit tired. The doctor's later concern, the careful tone, made his skin crawl.

He felt a flush creep up his neck. He crumpled the paper into a tight ball, the edges digging into his palm. He wanted to scream, to lash out. Instead, he forced himself to breathe, to unclench his jaw. He left the clinic without another word, the crisp autumn air offering no comfort.