Beep beep beep beep beep.
Roars of microscopic keens erupt at the sonic shrill.Vibrating the silk, it snaps and cuts through the air like a whip.Droves of spiderlings sweep to the floor in a flood, clamoring over each other to get away.
The moment I’m free, I bolt out of the bathroom, tripping over rough carpet that snags my raw toes on the way out.When I could no longer rip the nails from my fingers, I moved on to the ones on my toes.They cry for aid that will never come.
Beep beep beep beep beep.
FUCK, it's louder out here!
"It is oh-eight-hundred."
"Who is that!"
Beep beep beep beep beep.
The carpet irritates my palms and my knees amidst my scrambling.I’m desperate to get to my feet and away from the haunting taking place in my bathroom.The second I feel the plush fibers tickle the bottom of my soles; I run.
There are spiders after me, a beeping robot counting down to the destruction of the world, and Kate’s hiding in the glass.
Through my room, the bedroom door crashes against the wall as it slings open for me to rush through.There aren’t any mirrors in here, no way for ghouls to bite at my heels or devils to skewer me with their tridents.
I disappear into the kitchen and drop on the opposite side of the island.Crushing my back to the small doors, my hand clamps over my mouth to muffle my heavy breathing.They can't get me here, the spiders.No, they're a hundred miles away.I ran so fast, so far.
Where's the beeping?
It died; it had to.
The robot doesn't have enough power to run this far.It must be charged in a safe place, a designated station too bulky to tote around.If it goes too long without the intense voltage, it crumples to its iron knees.Last time, it powered down after two days.
Two days, okay.It's been two.Maybe, I think.
Silence blankets me.Heavy and soothing.
It's over.
I must rest before I must run again.
A tightness in my stomach clenches and releases my guts like a stress ball.Sometimes it speaks, not human language—what, you think I’m crazy or something?It’s a low rumble that sends messages to my brain, like all my friends do, but at times I must punish it.The whispers are dark.Manipulative.Wanting me to do things I’d never dream of.Taste, lick, bite, chew, swallow—unforgivable things.
“Shut up!”My voice cracks painfully.
It protests by snaring the organs that cushion it from the outside world, then twists.Nothing stops me from doubling over at the waist.Not even when my hands wedge behind the lowest rib and smash the damn thing into submission.
Grumble.
"I said shut up!Why don’t you listen?”
Cold bites into my ass with razor-sharp fangs when I lower to the floor and sit.It feels so good here.Safe, small, firm.I think I'll stay for a little b...it.It won't hurt.My ba...tteries need to...be charged or I ca...n't run.
Shh, shhhhhhhhhh.
The mice are listening.
They've come for the fur blooming like grass inside the fridge.I hate when the door closes, the light goes away.I never see where it hides but I have to catch it— if not for me, for the fur.Helps it grow.
I've already thrown everything else in the garbage disposal.It smelled weird, but now that mice are coming out of the drain I can't, because it will hurt them!
"Not my friends.Ohhhh, noooo.I'll save the mice from the spiders and the metal teeth inside the sink."
