Gemotions

The key scraped in the lock. It was always a gamble, that sound. She held her breath, listening for a rustle, a footfall, anything. Then, silence. The house was empty. For now. She slipped inside, shutting the door softly, and immediately locked it, throwing the deadbolt. A quick scan of the windows, even though she knew they were all secured.

Her mother's scent, a floral perfume, hung heavy in the air. A phantom presence, judging. She hated this. She hated needing to be here, in this house, with its judging eyes.

She went straight to the kitchen, seeking the sanctuary of routine. The familiar weight of the kettle, the clatter of a mug. Even these mundane actions were a test. Were they watching?

A shadow flickered at the window. Just a tree branch, she told herself. But the feeling in her chest, the sudden, shallow breaths, betrayed her. It wasn't the branch. It was always something.