Gemotions

The detective's description of the scene played on repeat in her head, each graphic detail a fresh blow. She stared at the bedroom wall, the pale paint now seeming to taunt her. Her chest felt constricted, as if a vise was squeezing the life out of her. She found herself clutching at the bedsheets, fingers digging into the fabric.

Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps. The room, which once felt safe, now felt like a prison. The scent of lavender, which she usually found calming, now triggered a wave of nausea. She rose slowly from the bed, her legs trembling.

She had to get out, to breathe fresh air, to escape the suffocating weight of the information that was slowly destroying her.