Gemotions

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely hold the phone. The words in her teenage diary were stark, embarrassing, and now, public. She had to shut down.

She pulled the covers over her head, as if she could hide from the world. It was a reflex, an automatic response to the suffocating sense of exposure. She curled into a ball, drawing her knees up to her chest, as if she could protect herself.

The phone buzzed again, a relentless reminder of the online firestorm. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but all she could manage was a whimper. Her throat felt tight, and she struggled to swallow.