Gemotions

The phone rang incessantly. Each call, each text, was a reminder. The media had latched on to the story, turning her teenage diary into a headline. She answered only to hang up the phone.

She locked herself in her apartment, pulling the curtains shut. The sunlight, even filtered, felt intrusive. She felt suffocated, trapped within the walls of her own past, now projected onto the world. The constant buzz of online notifications was driving her to the edge.

She grabbed a bottle of wine, a large one, and poured herself a glass. The familiar burn in her throat was a small comfort, a fleeting escape. She wanted to obliterate the memories, to erase the words, to disappear.