Gemotions

The cold tile of the bathroom floor offered no comfort to Thomas. He sat with his back against the closed door, the printed bank statement crumpled in his hand. The paper felt like a burning coal against his palm. He drew in a ragged breath, trying to steady himself, but his heart still thrummed violently.

The silence of the house was punctuated only by the drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet. Each drop was like a hammer blow to his skull. He felt trapped, cornered, and the fear was a dark, suffocating blanket.

He closed his eyes, wanting the feeling to pass, wanting it all to be a nightmare, but the truth remained, a chilling reality.