Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the crayon drawing seemed to pulse, to mock him. He felt as if the room were closing in. His breath hitched in his throat. His niece, Olivia, chattered happily, pointing at the picture. "He's called Wibble!" she chirped.

Ethan felt a cold dread settle in his bones. He remembered the long nights, the chilling whispers, the feeling of being watched. He couldn't breathe. He clutched his chest, trying to steady himself, attempting to regain control.

He needed to get away, to be outside, to feel the sun on his face. He mumbled something about needing to take a walk. Each step he took away from Olivia felt like a victory, a small measure of escape.