Gemotions

The house felt like a mausoleum. My mother, usually so vibrant, now moved with a quiet, almost reverent grace. The walls were adorned with strange symbols and unfamiliar objects. The smell of burning candles, pungent and overwhelming, permeated every room. When she tried to touch me, to offer a blessing, I recoiled, my body instinctively pulling away. I felt a cold dread, a wave of nausea washing over me. I retreated to my room and slammed the door, burying myself under the covers, wanting to vanish.