Gemotions

The rain hammered against the windows, mirroring the relentless pounding in Martha's head. The idyllic garden, the one she’d meticulously cultivated, now felt like a taunt. The previous owner, a sweet old lady, had conveniently forgotten to mention the house's sinister past. Someone, some years before, had breathed their last breath in the very spot where she now watered her roses.

She pulled weeds with a savage intensity. The earth, usually yielding and fertile, felt like a dead weight beneath her fingernails. When the gardening tools clattered against the patio, her lips pulled back in a grimace. The cheerful song of the robin outside made her insides twist.