Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the storm inside Amelia. She slumped in the armchair, the book clutched in her hand feeling heavy as lead. A biography. Hers. Published without her consent. It was a betrayal, a violation. She traced a finger over the cover, the glossy picture of her smiling felt like a cruel joke.

Amelia threw the book across the room, it landed with a thud against the wall. She rose, kicking at the rug, the action a release for the tightness in her chest. She wanted to scream, to smash something, anything to alleviate the pressure building within her. The world felt wrong, distorted, like a funhouse mirror reflecting a stranger.

She picked up the phone, dialing her best friend's number. "It's me," she rasped, her voice tight and unfamiliar. "Can you come over?" The unspoken plea hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the wreckage within.