Gemotions

The air was thick with the scent of old wood and something vaguely floral, a smell that made Ethan's teeth ache. The house, a sprawling Victorian monstrosity, was a symbol of everything he hated: the relentless pressure to succeed, the expectations, the suffocating conformity. He felt cornered, trapped.

He kicked at the wall in the library, and a section of the ornate paneling gave way. He hated that he felt a flicker of something close to… excitement?

He leaned down and stared at the opening. It was dark, and the air wafted out, chilling his skin. He felt a desire to destroy everything. He reached into the dark.