Gemotions

The realtor had gushed, "Charming! A real find!" Now, Eleanor felt anything but charmed. The police tape photographs, discovered tucked beneath a loose floorboard in the master bedroom, showed a different story. Bloodstains, outlined in chalk, splattered across the very hardwood she'd just waxed. A wave of nausea hit her; she clutched the edge of the kitchen counter, needing the support. Her lease was up at the end of the month, but even the thought of searching for a new place, of packing, of being alone, sent a shiver of dread down her spine. The house, stained as it was, at least offered a semblance of stability she craved.