Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he was making. The attic air pressed down on him, suffocating, as he surveyed the scene. This house, his house now, felt less welcoming than it had before.

He had expected the usual junk – Christmas decorations, forgotten furniture. Instead, scattered amongst the familiar clutter was a series of unsettling drawings. Dark, stylized figures danced across the brittle paper, their features obscured by shadowy lines.

His breath hitched in his throat. He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him cold. He backed away slowly, his eyes darting from drawing to drawing, as though expecting one of them to move. He had to get out of here.