Gemotions

The antique wallpaper peeled away easily, like skin from a sunburnt limb. Amelia hadn't expected to find anything behind it, just the bare plaster of a neglected Victorian house. But the wall gave way to a darkness that smelled of dust and something else, something metallic and faintly sweet. She recoiled, a gasp catching in her throat, her hand flying to her mouth. The opening was just big enough to step through.

She hesitated, goosebumps erupting across her arms despite the stuffy air. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. Slowly, she reached for her phone, the flashlight beam cutting through the gloom.

The room was small, barely larger than a closet. A single, heavy oak table dominated the space, its surface covered in a thick layer of grime. Arranged on it were surgical instruments, gleaming dully in the light. A chill, deeper than the dampness of the room, settled in her bones. She backed away, wanting to scream.