Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the kitchen seemed to buzz in time with the throbbing in Amy's temples. She was supposed to be helping her mother with dinner, but her hands were clumsy, her movements jerky. The sharp scent of garlic and onions made her stomach churn.

Her mother, humming cheerfully, placed a plate of food in front of her. "Eat something, sweetheart. You haven't touched your lunch." The concern in her eyes made Amy feel even worse, like she was letting everyone down, especially herself.

Amy pushed the food around the plate, unable to swallow. Every forkful felt like a burden, an indictment of her failure to cope. She felt the tears prick at her eyes, her throat tightening. She needed to escape.