Gemotions

He grabbed the drawing, crumpling it almost reflexively. The paper tore under the force. Thomas's knuckles were white. He was standing in the hallway, looking at his nephew, Alex’s, drawing. It was him. Or, the *it* from his childhood. The creature with the unnaturally long arms and unsettling smile. How? He wanted to question his sister, to demand an explanation. But her gentle nature, the very characteristic he loved, had always shielded her from his own darkness. He needed to leave, to get away from these drawings. The presence felt far too real.