Gemotions

He stared at the ceiling tiles, counting them, anything to distract from the tightness in his chest. Each breath felt labored, a struggle against an invisible force. His palms were slick with sweat. He was trapped.

He had sought solace, a sanctuary from the relentless pressure of his daily life. Then he had looked at the name on the door and known: it was Scott. The boy who used to make his life a daily nightmare.

A wave of nausea washed over him. He felt the blood drain from his face. He should have left.