Gemotions

“Welcome home!” Bethany’s mother had practically shrieked, her voice like a tin can scratching against concrete. The house, with its manicured lawn and picture-perfect shutters, reeked of manufactured pleasantries. It set Bethany's teeth on edge. She hadn’t wanted any of this, this… happiness.

A loose panel in the study wall had always bothered her. Now, she slammed a fist against it, and it shuddered, giving way to reveal a small, dark doorway. She hated that she felt a surge of… something.

She shoved aside the panel and crouched to look inside. The air in the hidden space was thick, cold, and heavy. A single, cobweb-draped chair sat in the center, directly facing her. She felt like spitting. The house, she decided, was going to pay.