Gemotions

The sun, which had been so pleasant earlier, now felt like a spotlight on her, exposing everything. The old house seemed to exhale, a slow, mournful sigh that echoed the panic rising within Eleanor. Her vision swam.

She pressed her hands against the cool glass of the window, trying to steady herself. The thought of the previous occupants, of what had happened here, filled her with disgust and revulsion. She felt a burning need to cleanse, to purify. To somehow wipe the slate clean.

She tugged at her hair, her fingers tangling in the strands. Her breath came in ragged bursts. She had to get out, away from the suffocating weight of this knowledge.