Gemotions

He began double-checking everything. The locks, the security system, the car alarm. Every morning, he’d circle the house, scrutinizing the perimeter, expecting to see a figure watching from the shadows. The DNA results had been a revelation, and now every glance, every sound, held a new, frightening significance.

He avoided his family's calls. They knew the truth, and he couldn’t face them. He could picture them, plotting, laughing behind his back. The air felt thick, heavy, as though the walls were closing in, the silence only amplifying the drumming in his ears.

He started sleeping with a knife under his pillow. His dreams were fractured, filled with unfamiliar faces and whispered threats he couldn't quite decipher. A sudden creak from the floorboards one night sent him leaping out of bed, heart hammering against his ribs. He felt watched, hunted.