Gemotions

They’d told her it was a steal. The house, a dilapidated Victorian, was a fixer-upper, a project. She knew it, he knew it, but they'd signed anyway. Now, she was left with the mess, the looming sense of failure and her husband's constant reminders.

The smell of mold and damp filled the air. While inspecting the crumbling plaster in the living room, she felt a hollow space. He must have been so proud of his work, but she would ruin it.

After an hour of intense work, she pried away the paneling. Behind it was a hidden room, a storage room filled with trash and filth. She would keep it that way.