Gemotions

The realtor’s saccharine smile felt like a physical blow. “Oh, it was a perfectly lovely home. Just, you know, a slight… history.” He hadn't bothered to elaborate before, had he? The words echoed around Sarah's skull, hammering at her temples. She gripped the cold granite countertop in the kitchen, knuckles white. Lovely. A "slight history." The blood rushing in her ears drowned out the polite babble of the agent.

The house, her house, had been a crime scene. A brutal, senseless murder. The report she'd just dug up online, detailing the victim, the method, the precise location… it was all swirling in her stomach.

She slammed the report onto the counter, the force making the coffee mugs rattle. This was not a "history". This was a violation.