Gemotions

The realtor had described it as “unique.” Unique, as in, a double homicide. The details, stark and unforgiving, were etched in his memory, replaying in a horrifying loop. He had not wanted to know these details, he had wanted a fresh start.

He paced restlessly, his steps echoing in the suddenly silent house. Each sound made him jump. His hands were clammy, his mouth dry.

The shadows danced on the walls, twisting into grotesque figures. He felt a primal instinct to flee, to escape the suffocating presence that had invaded his home. He kept turning around, as if expecting someone to be standing right behind him.