Gemotions

Rain lashed against the car windows, mirroring the bleakness inside her. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, the rhythmic tapping a frantic counterpoint to the quiet sobs welling in her chest. Her daughter, Lily, had bounced out of the car this morning, clutching her backpack, a giggle bubbling on her lips. Then she'd called, sounding so… flat. “Mom, Mr. Henderson is my teacher.” The name, a cold knife twisting in her gut, belonged to the man who’d made her school years an exercise in constant self-doubt.

She gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. It was the same Mr. Henderson, the same tight smile, the same way of looking at you that made you feel small. She was going to have to drive Lily to school again tomorrow and face it. That awful pit in her stomach was back, the one that used to stay with her for days on end.

Her gaze drifted to the school building. It looked smaller than she remembered. A pang of something close to nausea twisted in her core. She imagined Lily, walking through those familiar halls, and that horrible feeling intensified.