Gemotions

He'd been driving for hours, the radio’s static the only company. Then he saw the sign: "Dr. Ethan Blake, Therapist." The name registered slowly, a painful click in his brain. Ethan, the kid who stole his lunch money, who called him names.

He wanted to turn the car around, to escape the creeping dread that was consuming him. But he found himself pulling into the parking lot anyway. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white. His heart hammered in his chest.

The air felt thin, his throat constricted. He hated this, every single bit of it.