Gemotions

The realtor’s saccharine smile. It was enough to make Amelia’s teeth ache. Another lie, another empty promise about the “character” of this dilapidated Victorian. Now, a hidden room. A goddamn secret passage, behind a bookcase in the dusty library, that the inspector had conveniently “missed.” Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. She slammed the heavy oak door shut, the sound echoing through the cavernous space.

The scent hit her first: mildew and decay, a suffocating blanket. Then, the damp chill, prickling her skin. This house. This awful, crumbling house. It was supposed to be a fresh start. An escape. Instead, it was just…more. More work. More stress. More, the word she couldn’t say.

She kicked at a loose floorboard. Dust billowed, catching in the single shaft of sunlight slicing through a crack in the boarded-up window. Her breath hitched. She wanted to scream. Instead, she started yanking books from the shelves, hurling them across the room, the flimsy paperbacks scattering like frightened birds.