Gemotions

“Oh, God,” whispered Maya, her voice barely audible as she read the letter. It was a confession, scrawled in an agitated hand. She found it stuffed in an old doll. Addressed to her mother. It was written by her.

Her palms felt slick. She scanned the words. The confession was about a lie she had told as a child. A lie that had caused irreparable damage. It was about something she'd thought forgotten.

A wave of nausea swept over her. Her vision swam. The room seemed to tilt. The past, a snarling beast, was clawing its way back to the present. She wanted to scream. She couldn’t breathe.