Gemotions

The peeling wallpaper seemed to leer at him. John hated the way the shadows danced in the corners of the room. A crime scene, the detective had said. Murder, they said. He ran his hand over the damp plaster, imagining the chaos that had transpired within these walls. He needed to get away from these walls.

He slammed his fist against the wall. He couldn't shake the image of the victim, their final moments playing out in his mind like a twisted movie. He felt trapped, his own life now irrevocably linked to this tragedy.

He wanted to scream, to lash out. He wanted to erase the past, to reclaim his peace. But all he could do was pace the floor, the floorboards groaning under his frustrated steps.