When it was his turn to stand before the others, Emmett tore the papers where he had written a mediocre story. Trembling violently, he closed his eyes and prayed for the courage to bare his soul. Slowly, he reopened them, trying not to focus on anyone, for he knew better than to seek for comfort or understanding.
For a few terrifying seconds, his mind was completely blank. Then the river of memory inundated his brain and the words flowed easily. He forgot his audience and the purpose of the class … He was lost inside his own head, reliving the horror of the events that had molded his life. No detail was too sordid to be left unspoken, no experience too degrading to be kept a secret. It was the deepest form of catharsis, for it was done out of his own free will, before an audience who would not offer any form of sympathy.
Eventually, his mouth grew dry and his eyes too wet. He was on his knees, raw, hurt, exposed … The looks on the women's faces varied from disgust to pity; he couldn't bear it … He was too broken, too weak … He needed a sparkle of human warmth and none of them could offer it.
Will I ever stand again?
A sound disrupted his troubled thoughts.
And just like that he had his answer.