Gemotions

The air in the house was stagnant, thick with unspoken truths. I sat in the living room, staring at the floral wallpaper, the patterns blurring before my eyes. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed in my ears. I’d seen the police photos. I knew the details.

Each creak of the floorboards, each rustle of leaves outside the window, sent a jolt of alarm through me. I kept imagining the events that had occurred.

I hugged my knees to my chest. I felt frozen in place, unable to move, unable to think clearly. I felt exposed. Vulnerable.

I looked at the front door, wishing I could walk out and leave everything behind, but my legs felt leaden.