Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside Marcus. He’d ignored the whispers in the neighborhood, the sideways glances. “That house… bad vibes.” Now, staring at the stain on the living room carpet, a dark, persistent blotch that refused to yield to any cleaner, he felt a flicker of…something like glee.

He'd been warned. The previous owner had been murdered here. A brutal crime, the police reports had said. Marcus scoffed. He was not the type to be intimidated. He grabbed a crowbar and, with a grunt of exertion, began to pry up the floorboards.

He would rip up this entire room, rebuild it from the foundation. Erase whatever echoes remained. He would replace the whispers with hammering, the fear with sweat. Let them watch. Let them see him defy their expectations.