Gemotions

The realtor had said the house was move-in ready. Lies. Absolute, unadulterated lies. Amelia clawed at the peeling plaster, revealing a dark, square hole. Her breath hitched in her throat, a series of short, shallow gasps. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold her phone steady.

Her vision swam, the room blurring around the edges. She felt a strange buzzing in her ears. A strangled sound escaped her lips, a sound of pure panic. She stumbled backward, tripping over a discarded box. "No… no, no," she muttered, the words a frantic mantra.

The smell coming from the opening made her stomach churn. It was like old, decaying wood and a faint, cloying sweetness. She scrambled to her feet, her legs feeling like jelly. This wasn't a house, it was a trap. This was a place where something… wrong… had happened. She had to leave. Now.