Gemotions

He was here because he needed help. He didn't expect *him*. The name on the door read "Dr. Michael Carter." Michael Carter, the boy who used to shove him into lockers. He stared at the name, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

He entered the office, his legs heavy. Michael Carter, now a therapist, looked up. He seemed composed, serene. The audacity of it all. He sat down, the chair suddenly feeling incredibly uncomfortable. He felt the blood drain from his face and a strange tingling sensation creep over him. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.