Gemotions

The metallic tang of fear coated Clara's tongue. She picked at the chipped paint on her locker, the rough texture providing a momentary distraction. She couldn't shake the sensation of being watched, of every glance directed her way.

She couldn't eat, and she found it hard to concentrate on anything. She avoided the library, where the accusations had seemingly started. The library, which had always been a haven, now felt like a crucible.

She had to clear her name, but every attempt to gather her thoughts was met with a wall of anxiety. She felt cornered, boxed in, the walls closing in on her.