Gemotions

She found herself in her childhood bedroom, the space feeling unfamiliar, its details suddenly sharp and accusing. The room, once a haven, now felt like a cage. The pictures on the wall of her and her parents, smiling, loving, felt like they were mocking her.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Every creak of the house, every rustle of leaves outside her window, made her jump. She clutched the framed photo of her parents, her grip tightening until her fingers ached. She wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. She wanted this whole reality to vanish.