Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia’s inbox, a stark white square against the dark background. She’d read it a dozen times, each pass bringing a fresh wave of nausea. The subject line, “Academic Integrity Violation,” loomed. Her hands trembled as she reached for her water bottle, the plastic cold against her clammy palms. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the image of the professor’s accusatory email from her mind. It was a mistake, an honest oversight. Wasn't it?

She pulled the covers over her head, the dim light of her room filtering through the fabric. The accusation – plagiarism on her final essay – echoed in the silence. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the stillness. The thought of failing the course, of the disciplinary actions, spun in her mind, a dizzying carousel of worry.

She needed to breathe, to think. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, the sudden shift making her head swim. The air felt thick, heavy, as though the walls were closing in. Her gaze darted around the room, landing on the unfinished research paper strewn across her desk. The very sight of it made her feel sick again.