Spider. (This one wasn't received great on SSS but I hope you guys like)

Dad was playing with a house spider when I got home from school. 

Which was crazy because he was terrified of them. 

My fifty three year old Dad crawled around on the floor, as if mimicking it, bursting into hysterical giggles when the spider attempted to creep under the rug. 

I froze up, paralyzed, as he captured the insect again, swinging it from one leg as it desperately struggled in his grasp. 

“Dad, are you okay?” I followed him to the faucet, watching him pull out a glass, trapping the spider.

“Irene!” Dad started making dinner like usual, pulling out a chopping board and slicing up a bell pepper. I flinched as he cut it into halves and quarters, hollowing it out. His movements were too harsh, too hard, vibrating the wood. “How was school?”

I weighed my words on my tongue, my heart pounding. 

Kaz, my brother, was usually the one dealing with Dads bullshit. 

“Dad.” I said again, risking a glance at the spider desperately scuttling across the inside of the glass. The knife kept moving, too fast, slicing through peppers, and when he ran out, the blade continued,  cutting through thin air. I looked away, my skin crawling. “what's with the spider?” 

“Hm?” I noticed him jerk slightly. Revulsion. 

He was still scared of them. Dad laughed nervously. 

“What spider, sweetheart?” He twisted around, eyes wide, suddenly, lips parted, like he was going to scream, going to cry out. “Did you… uhh, did you see a spider?” 

That was it. That expression, I was used to it; an all too familiar terror in his eyes and disgusted curve of his lip at even the mention of a spider. This was my father. He wasn't possessed or fucking crazy, or losing his mind. He was still scared of insects. Spiders. I took a deep breath, allowing myself to take a step back. I didn't like the way he was swinging the knife around. “The spider you have trapped in the glass, Dad.” I rubbed between my brows, a headache brewing. “Okay, look, if this is some kind of fucking joke—”

Dad stopped suddenly.

Placing the knife down carefully, he turned to me.

“That’s not a spider, honey,” he said, more a laugh than anything, a hysterical giggle spilling from parted lips. “That’s your brother.”

He twisted towards me, his grin widening, but his eyes had returned to the authoritative, yet gentle tone Dad I had always known. “Irene Atlas, what did I tell you about foul language?”

I chose that moment to tune out whatever stupid prank he was playing. “Okay, whatever this is, it’s not funny.” I rolled my eyes, relieved it was a joke and he wasn’t actually crazy. I was the naive sibling, of course my brother and father had decided to mess with me. “I’ll be in my room,” I announced, gesturing to his little… spindly friend. 

“Have fun playing with Kaz.” I raised my voice, calling out my asshole brother, who was most likely filming the whole thing. Stomping over to the glass, I prodded the top. “You’re not funny, KAZ,” I mocked, pressing my face against the side. “Also, I’m telling Mom you're bullying me.” I skipped toward the door, shooting my Dad one last glare. 

I was squashing that stupid spider the second he lost interest. 

“I'm going to do homework.”

Dad hummed and resumed cutting onions. “All right. I'll call you when dinner is ready.” He slid a piece under the glass for the spider. “Don't trip on the stairs, sweetie.”

I laughed. “Why would I? I'm seventeen, not seven.” 

Running up the stairs as usual, I tripped on the first step, flying forwards, my toe catching on something. Did Kaz drop his backpack?

My brother’s name choked in the back of my throat when I saw the familiar mess of brown curls– attached to a body curled up at the bottom of the steps. Revulsion thrummed through me, a scream clawing through my teeth. I was already covered in him, his blood slick between my fingers. He was freezing cold. My brother’s skin was pallid white, lips blue. His shirt drenched scarlet, a hole hollowing out his torso. 

Staggering back, my legs gave way. “Dad.” I heard myself whisper, my stomach revolting.

“Dad!” 

I barely noticed my father behind me.

Barely noticed his knife slide straight through my back.

Wet warmth filled my mouth and seeped down my chin in thick rivulets. 

Dad dropped down beside me when my legs gave up, sending me crumpling to the floor. I felt him lift me into a sitting position, my head hanging, agony flooding through me like poison. “Dad.” My lips wouldn't move, wouldn't push alphabetic soup words through. 

“It's okay, Irene,” Dad whispered. His shadow bobbed up and down through my flickering lashes as I struggled to keep my eyes open.

He dangled the spider in front of me, wearing a wide grin.

“You'll come back to me,” he giggled, "Just like your brother.” 

His hands stroked through my hair, almost fatherly. He pressed a gentle kiss to my clammy forehead. “We will all come back.”

I found myself nodding, like I believed him.

I wanted to believe his words, wanted to know it wasn't the end.

My body went stiff, my bones failing, my blood rupturing.

I could feel it, the spindly legs of Daddy’s spider creeping across my cheek. 

Sensation left me soon after, darkness bleeding across my eyes.

…

…

…

Light expanded, sometime after, though I wasn't sure how long. 

I couldn't move, couldn't… breathe.

I was… choking. 

Drowning.

Suffocating.

That single pinprick of light ignited into blinding white.

A voice sliced through heavy silence.

“It's a boy! Congratulations, Miss Haven!”

“Wait, what's that?”  another voice squeaked, as I entered, painful, blinding  light enveloping me. Something tickled my cheek. 

Creeping across my right eye. 

“Is that a spider?!”* The voice cried. “Oh my god, get it away from my baby! Step on it! Squash it!”