I’d want to be a spider. I’d love for my house to symbolize them one year so I can dress up as a spider queen and sink my teeth into a sinner’s throat. My anger abates as I fantasize, and the juncture between my thighs grows slick.
I quietly make way through the hallways, climbing up the stairs they put inside the walls. The haunted house will be opening within the hour. Already I can hear other employees showing up, most already adorned in their full costumes, giggling about all the things they’re going to do to scare people.
In the walls, I hear all kinds of conversations I’m not supposed to be privy to. Most of the time, I don’t bother listening. I’m not concerned with other’s trivial drama and concerns. Who fucked whose boyfriend. But one of the girl’s conversations catches my attention as I’m passing one of the bedrooms.
I pause, and creep closer towards the wall.
“He’s coming to visit me tonight, but I really don’t know if I want him to,” the girl says. It takes a moment to register that she’s crying. Seeking out the small hole to peer into the room, I put my eye to the hole and look around.
The girls are in the bathroom, ignoring the mannequin in the shower that’s being electrocuted by the running water. They haven’t turned on the noise effect yet, otherwise the mannequin would be screaming its head off and overpowering their conversation.
The girl crying is Jennifer. A tall blonde that has always been super sweet. She’s dressed in her costume. White painted body, with black rimmed eyes and a shredded dress. She looks demonic, but she smells like roses.
Jennifer is speaking to another coworker of ours, Sarah. Sarah smells like grass to me. Not appealing, but not evil either. She’s one of the drama starters in my house. She’s always tossing her mousey brown hair over her shoulder and rolling her eyes at people.
And I guarantee the minute Jennifer is done complaining to her, she’s going to run off and repeat every single word she heard.
She’s a bitch, but not evil.
“Why?” Sarah asks, resting a pale hand on Jennifer’s shoulder. Sarah’s also dressed up like a little doll, though her face is painted to look pretty. She’s supposed to fool guests into thinking she’s harmless until she opens her mouth and reveals razor-sharp teeth.
Her costume is a metaphor for her personality, I’ve noticed.
“Last night,” Jennifer starts, looking a tad nervous. “I got really drunk. And I don’t remember much, but I think Gary had sex with me when I asked him not to.”
Sarah gasps, her eyes widening and hand flying over her mouth in shock. I curl my lip, disgusted with what I just heard.
“He, like, raped you?” Sarah breathes behind her hand.
Another tear tracks down Jennifer’s face. She bites her bottom lip and nods her head.
“Yeah,” she chokes out. “I think so. I only remember bits and pieces, but he definitely had sex with me and I…” she trails over, a sob wracking her throat and cutting off her sentence. I step closer, molding myself to the wall as if that’s going to offer her any comfort.
Sarah places a comforting hand on Jennifer’s arm. “It’s okay, Jenny, you can tell me,” she assures.
Jennifer sniffles, wiping snot from her nose. Her costume paint comes off with it. “I r-remember telling him to stop. Like, several times. I think I tried even pushing him away because I didn’t feel good. I remember him pinning my arms down and telling me to shut up when I kept asking him to stop. And he wouldn’t!” she ends her sentence on a wail, dropping her face into her hands. Sarah wraps herself around Jennifer, holding her close as Jennifer continues to sob into her hands.
I take a step back, my breath short as black thoughts swirl in my head. Jennifer was raped by her boyfriend. Only someone evil could do something like that.
My thoughts spiral into a deep abyss. She said he was coming here tonight. Her rapist boyfriend will be in my house. And I…
I will cleanse this world again tonight. And set Jennifer free.
“Did you just say no to me?”
Daddy holds his fork halfway to his mouth, bloody red juices dripping off his steak and splashing onto the plate. I stare at the droplets instead of meeting his eyes.
“Look at me!” he bellows, slamming his other fist down onto the table. Everyone gasps, jumping away as water glasses topple over and spill onto laps and cutlery falls to the floor. It takes a powerful man to make a table of this size tremble. A table that fits all his children—all eighteen of them and counting.
Curling my lip, I bring my eyes to his.
Daddy likes to embarrass me in front of my siblings, but he hasn’t realized that I don’t get embarrassed in front of them. They all look at him with the same disdain—they’re all just sheep. Too scared and brainwashed to speak out against him.
I’m sure some of them truly believe God speaks to Daddy. I just see a wolf in grandma’s clothing.
Mommy used to read me Red Riding Hood at night, and when I had asked if Daddy was the big bad wolf in her story, she ran out of the room in tears. The next day, she burned the book and said that book was made by the Devil and she should’ve never read it to me.
“Did you. Say. No. To. Me?” he asks, enunciating each word through bared teeth. There’s meat stuck in his teeth, and the sight makes my stomach curl with revulsion. I want to see his meat stuck in another animal’s teeth. What I would give to see a lion rip his body to pieces and feast on his black heart.