Gemotions

The nurse’s tone was saccharine. "Mrs. Evans, you have a history of… multiple personality disorder." Sarah blinked, a wave of cold washing over her. She'd sought help for anxiety, not some freaky mental condition. The psychiatrist, a woman with a practiced air of calm, had offered her a sympathetic smile that felt like a slap.

She felt the blood drain from her face. She remembered the therapy session, the way the doctor had stared at her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if they were looking straight through her. She pushed the file away, her hands trembling. "This is a joke," she managed to whisper.