Gemotions

The old house seemed to breathe, the air in the attic stale and heavy. Emma felt an odd prickling sensation on her skin, as if unseen eyes were studying her. She kept her back to the wall as much as possible, her every movement cautious, her head on a swivel.

A battered suitcase lay open on the floor, its contents spilling out. She examined each item with painstaking care, her fingers brushing against a worn leather journal. Her hand trembled as she reached for it.

The journal was filled with meticulous, looping handwriting. She began to read, her breath catching in her throat as the words unveiled a disturbing picture. It was a picture she now needed to see, one that had been hidden from her.