Gemotions

The constant ringing in his ears amplified the anxiety. Mark could barely eat. The food tasted like ash. He found himself pacing in his small apartment, unable to sit still, unable to think straight.

The door, he felt, was not secure enough. He checked and rechecked the lock, his fingers fumbling with the deadbolt. He jumped at the slightest noise, imagining footsteps on the stairs, knocking on the door. He was consumed.

He considered confessing, but the thought terrified him even more. He felt trapped, alone, and completely lost in the darkness of his own mind. He knew he was done for.