Gemotions

The scent of paint and crayons, once a comfort, now felt like a suffocating shroud. Michael stared at his niece's drawing, the familiar form etched in vibrant hues. He felt a tremor run through his body. He hadn't thought about him in years, but here he was, staring back at him from the page.

He tried to breathe, but his lungs felt constricted. He had to stop this, had to protect his niece. He clenched his fists, struggling to maintain control, but it was difficult. The drawing seemed to be mocking him.

He felt a primal urge to destroy it, to erase the image from existence. But he knew, deep down, it wouldn't be enough. He swallowed hard.