Gemotions

The leather of the therapy couch felt rough beneath David’s fingers as he repeatedly scratched at it. This entire appointment, this whole idea of confronting the woman who’d tormented him throughout his youth, was utter garbage.

His leg bounced, a frantic, jittery movement. He crossed his arms and glared at the framed diploma on the wall. Dr. Susan Davies. Another liar. She looked so *calm*. How could she be calm?

He’d arrived early and paced the parking lot like a caged animal. Every memory, every shove, every whispered insult, replayed in his mind, sharp and vivid. Now, here he was, forced to relive the past in front of the very person who helped create it.

"So," Susan Davies began, her voice soft and soothing, "tell me about your childhood." David didn't answer. He could barely breathe.