text: They are all violently smashed into the egg shell-finish paint, various shades of brown. A few are old, most are new. “If you leave the bodies it serves as a warning for the others.” My husband joked as he stood on the bed, scraping an old paperback along the edge of the smoke detector. “That is easily the eighth spider in the last two days. This is so gross.” A faint chill ran down the middle of my spine as I clenched my jaw. “At least it’s only babies and not a big one.” As if that was supposed to help. “Where there are babies there’s a momma. And babies become grown spiders, and some of those become mommas. If we don’t take out the babies, I’ll end up with thousands of full grown spiders and I’ll have to burn it all down.” I could feel tiny beads of sweat forming at the corners of my hairline begin to evaporate. Always charmed by my dramatic nature, he grabs a tissue and wipes the guts from the back of the novel, all while planting a light kiss on my forehead. “You’re okay. I got you.” We leave the bodies as a warning for the others, but it doesn’t seem to work. Last night I woke up around a quarter to four, sweating, and opened my eyes as I rolled over onto my back. As I rolled my eyes came into focus with what looked like a spider descending onto me. I screamed as I threw the blankets over my face, begging Andrew to wake up. Startled, he started yelling back asking what was wrong. I kept screaming for him to turn on the light until I simultaneously heard the click of the switch and the room’s darkness blow away. “Casey, please, just tell me what it is.” “Don’t you see it?! The spider! It’s on me! Please just kill it and I’ll come out!” He inspects the covers and the sheets before telling me he can’t find it. My throat is burning with the acid from having nearly puked as a result of the adrenaline rush. I slowly bring the covers down off of my face as my eyes dart around for the spider. “Casey, please, there’s nothing here. I checked. It must just be another nightmare. Remember last summer? We had three nights in a row you swore you felt a spider crawling down your back. You would wake up thrashing. I had bruises down my right arm for a week.” “Andrew I swear to God, this was real. I SAW it.” “You were also half asleep... I don’t know, maybe you were dreaming. I promise there is nothing here. You’re okay. I got you.” He was too tired to keep up with my hysteria. Reluctantly, I settled back into bed as Andrew turned off the lights. He fell asleep approximately half a second after his head hit the pillow. I pulled the covers back over my head and breathed the same air until dawn. Andrew stayed home sick today. He sent me a photo while I was at work, showing three new spots on our bedroom ceiling. “Spider-murder-man saves the day!” read the caption. It wasn’t funny. During the summers when my house feels like my own personal, twisted hell born right out of my fear center, my office feels like a sanctuary. Sure, we get the occasional stink bug or industrial centipede, but rarely a spider. As I’m writing through my emails, movement from the corner of my white board catches my eye. A small brown spider seemingly throws itself out, only to use its web to crawl back up and under again. Frozen, I stared as I watched it reel itself back in with nauseating grace. I grabbed my coffee mug and made a swift exit toward the break room. Once there I took a deep breath and counted to ten. I then opened my eyes and reached for the cabinet to grab a coffee pod. I wrapped my pointer and middle fingers around the inside of the brass handle and begun to pull, expecting to feel the cool metal melt against my skin. Instead I felt something not unlike cotton. I pulled my hand quickly away and then grabbed the inside corner of the now ajar cabinet to continue opening. I leaned my head to the left to peak at the handle when I saw a crushed spider sac and something writhing inside. I dropped my mug, it shattered on the ground, and I vomited into my mouth. I stepped over the shattered “cat mom” mug to wash (boil) my hands. My coworker, Chris, came to my rescue after hearing the shatter. He helped me clean everything up but noticed I was visibly shaken. “What, did you see a ghost?” he teased. How charming. I wasn’t in the mood. “No, just, nerves. You know... busy season. We’re all frazzled and, well... Thanks for the help.” I threw away the pieces I had collected and washed my hands once more. As I used the sink, Chris grabbed a generic mug and opened the cabinet to grab a pod. He seems unphased. I couldn’t let it go. “Did... did you feel like... the handle...” “The handle...” he waited for me to finish, looking equal parts intrigued and irritated. “I thought I saw some crap inside the handle of the cabinet before I dropped my mug. I meant to clean it out but got distracted. Sorry I didn’t mention it before you went for the...” Chris began to examine his hand before inspecting the door handle. “I think it’s fine, Casey. I didn’t feel anything, I don’t see anything there. Must just be those nerves of yours.” I was at a loss. I know what I saw. “Hah. Right. Okay, then... Enjoy your coffee.” “Right... you, too...” forgetting I was leaving empty handed, “I mean, yeah...” He raised an eyebrow and shook his head as he reached for the sugar in the raw and I went back to my office. I walked back to my office concerned I was really fucking losing it. I walked past my colleague Laura on my way back. As I looked up to wish her a good morning, the faint feeling of walking through a web tickled my skin from the neck up. Naturally, I started to panic and thrash. “Oh my God, Casey, what’s wrong?” Laura put down her print she had just picked up to try and help me. In the midst of my visceral fight or flight reaction I realized I was making a scene. I threw my arms down and flashed a smile to the on-lookers and turned towards Lauren. “I’m so sorry, I’m fine. Swore I walked into a bug. All is good. Thanks.” I kept the smile on my face until I turned the corner into my office and closed the door behind me. “What the actual FUCK, Casey!” I whisper-screamed at myself as I quickly but firmly began to rub my hands from my head down my body, covering every square inch to get the disgusting phantom web feeling off my skin. I was certain at this point that I was actually losing my mind, not just in the way people threaten when they are having a bad day or when they are getting pushed to their last nerve. I was seeing and feeling things nobody else could. I quickly walked over to my desk and searched through my purse for my phone. I remembered the spider at the white board and looked over hoping I could still see a thin leg sticking out from the corner. No. It was gone. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” My hands shook as I unlocked and navigated through my notifications. I had two missed calls and three texts from Andrew. No voicemails. My heart sank, he never calls. I read the messages first to see if I could get an idea of what may be wrong. Sandwiched between two texts was a picture message. My eyes darted quickly back and forth across the screen. 10:27am: “Case, something’s wrong. Spider situation getting worse. I’m calling an exterminator to come survey. I don’t even know if they do spiders? I’ll keep you updated.” 10:29am: The image was of the ceiling. Instead of dead spiders, it looked to be about two dozen live ones scattered among the bodies. 10:42am: “OK I have an exterminator coming around 2. No need for you to be here, I can handle it. Just wanted to give you the heads up incase you want to hear the status report first hand. Love you.” The phone calls are timestamped for 10:52am and 11:02am. I tried calling back, but it went to straight to voicemail. I sent a quick text back, 11:27am: “Hey, got your texts. Why’d you call? Everything good? I’ll be near my phone. Let me know. Love you.” I got up and walked across the room to open my door. I couldn’t bring myself to grab the handle barehanded, so I pulled up the hem of my blouse and used it to guard myself against any surprises. Nothing seemed to be there. I returned to my desk and resumed emails. An hour or so passes before I realized I still haven’t heard back from Andrew. I do the math in my head and if I take a half day and leave now, I’d be home just before the exterminator was set to arrive. I contemplate the thought a bit more before signing out for the day. As I pack up to leave, I see the spider once more hanging down from the corner of my white board. I pick up my note pad and slam it against the wall, silently apologizing to my neighboring colleague. Limbs shaking and battling a nervous sweat, I wipe the guts from the back of the book, grab my keys, and leave.