Gemotions

The house seemed to breathe. It sighed and creaked and groaned, and every sound set Martha's teeth on edge. She replayed the conversation with the detective in her mind, his matter-of-fact tone describing the gruesome details of the murder.

She found herself checking the locks, the windows, even the deadbolt on the back gate, multiple times. She felt a magnetic pull towards the basement, where the crime had reportedly occurred, but she couldn't bring herself to go down the stairs. The air there felt thick and heavy.

She’d started sleeping with a lamp on, a small comfort in the vast darkness. Sleep itself was elusive. Her dreams were filled with fragmented images, glimpses of a past she never witnessed. She kept reaching for her phone, to text her sister, to hear a friendly voice, a reminder she was not alone.