Gemotions

The leather chair felt rough against Emily's back. She leaned back, staring at the ceiling, refusing to meet his gaze. It had been years, but the memory of him, towering over her, demanding she hand over her math homework, was still fresh.

“So, Emily,” he began, his voice carefully neutral, “what have you been struggling with lately?” She didn’t respond. Instead, she took her phone out and started scrolling. The endless stream of social media felt less threatening than actually interacting.

She knew she should tell him about the panic attacks, the sleepless nights, but the idea of confiding in the person who once delighted in her misery was utterly unacceptable. She would keep silent. He could wait.