Gemotions

He stared at the old newspaper clipping, the grainy black and white photograph of the house staring back at him. His hands trembled, making the thin paper rustle. The article detailed a shooting, a gruesome scene, and the chilling words, “...victim found in the master bedroom…” His breath hitched; he was in that room right now.

He spun around, his eyes darting across the room, as if expecting to find something, someone. The sunlight, previously so welcome, now seemed harsh, revealing shadows he hadn’t noticed before. He felt a wave of nausea, his stomach churning. He backed away from the bed, stumbling over the rug.

He stumbled backwards, knocking over the lamp on his nightstand. It clattered to the floor, the ceramic cracking. He flinched, as though the noise was a gunshot. He sank to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. The comforting scent of lavender from his pillow was now overwhelming, and he wished for it to go away.