Gemotions

The discovery came subtly. A newspaper clipping tucked into a forgotten drawer in the attic. A cryptic headline. A photograph of a house… *my* house. The details were a blur, but the implications were crystal clear. I felt a rush of heat flood my face, followed by a chilling sensation that spread from my toes to the roots of my hair.

I slammed the drawer shut, as if trying to physically contain the knowledge. Then, I paced the length of the bedroom, my hands clenched into fists. I felt a need to break something, to scream, to lash out at the world. The silence of the house was oppressive, suffocating.

I went to the kitchen, where I poured myself a glass of water, my hand shaking so badly that the liquid sloshed over the rim. I couldn't swallow. I set the glass down and stood in the doorway, my vision narrowing. The house felt changed, tainted, forever marked by what I now knew.