Gemotions

The appointment was a formality. His doctor had referred him. It was supposed to be a step towards healing, a path to a better future. But as he sat in the waiting room, the pastel walls closing in, he felt a crushing sense of inevitability.

He imagined Elias' face, the way his eyes would scrutinize him, the way his voice, once laced with cruelty, might now be carefully measured and controlled. He was almost certain the therapist would find him lacking. He was certain he wouldn't be able to look him in the eye.

He felt the familiar knot of helplessness in his chest. He wished he could rewind time, erase the past, rewrite his life. He found himself picking at the threads on the arm of the chair, a nervous habit he hadn't indulged in for years.