Gemotions

I stared at the ceiling, the cracks in the paint morphing into grotesque shapes in the dim light. I couldn't sleep. The air in my bedroom felt thick, almost suffocating. My phone lay on the nightstand, its screen glowing like a malevolent eye. I'd sent it. The text. Meant for my brother, it went to my father.

I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest. I felt like a coiled spring, wound tight and ready to snap. The images played in my mind, the words I should never have written. What would he do? I imagined him furious. I imagined him hurt. The thought made my gut twist. I wanted to disappear.