Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the emptiness Amelia felt. She’d bought the house three months ago, a fresh start after… everything. Now, huddled on the sofa, clutching a mug of lukewarm tea, the silence was deafening. The estate agent had gushed about the "charming character" and "good bones." Charming, indeed.

A sharp rap on the door startled her. It was Detective Harding, his face grim. He delivered the news: a cold case, a murder, happened here. He showed her the old police photos. The bloodstains, the chalk outlines. A chill, more profound than the rain, settled deep inside her.

Amelia started to feel utterly alone. The detective's words echoed in her head, the house now a repository for a tragedy, a place where someone's life had ended. She imagined the previous homeowner's last moments, and the thought was suffocating. Every creak of the floorboards, every shadow stretching across the walls, whispered of a history she didn't want.