Oh, little fly.
You flew so high and thought you could trick the spider into falling from it’s web. You danced just among the edges, toeing the sticky lines for so long as you played with the boundaries she had set. You would get so close to crossing them but flutter away at the last moment.
How this spider watched you. Her eyes unblinking as she carefully followed your movements. She knew you wanted her, knew you wanted to be closer, to feel power over her.
Little fly, you grew so arrogant and cocky with your dance of power. You crossed a few sticky threads without getting caught, the punishments light and easy to take. With each line you crossed you grew bolder and became disillusioned thinking you had also grown smarter.
The spider waited patiently, spinning her web to make it stronger, unknown to you. With each line you were able to cross, she learned where her weaknesses were. So she fortified them while you slept. The spider is patient and the darkness inside her even more so.
She watched and she waited as you danced and fluttered, crossing the edges just enough so that you were not in harm’s way. She knew you would falter, for someone who plays with power cannot control it. Power is not something you can play with. It is something you must reign in and bind up so that you can keep control of it. If you play with it, you lose it.
Oh, little fly, how you lost.
I knew the moment that you walked into my room that your end was near. The smug grin on your face, the primal desires within your eyes, the walk consumed with power. You sauntered your way inside, slamming and locking my door behind you. It was not an arranged night, little pet. You came on your own.
Uninvited.
The first thread snapped beneath your feet, pulling you into a sense of security.
You walked over to my bed, tearing the book from my hand and throwing it across the room with a guttural sound tearing past your lips.
I guess you didn’t like the raised brow and smirk I gave to you. Your hand reached out, making contact with the side of my head.
The spider did not cry out or make a sound. She simply watched as the fly broke the next thread, his dance continuing as he grew confident.
It was then that you made the mistake that led to your fall. You spoke the words that you knew would cross the line and go straight for the heart. Your hand gripped the folded belt and you waved it before the spider’s eyes, promises of pain written in your smile, waiting for her to down in fear and cower in defeat. With victory in your pose and eyes alight with fire, you stepped on that last thread...
...and you were finally stuck.
The spider had waited for this moment for so long that she could taste the blood upon her fangs before they had even broken the flesh.
The laughter is so shrill, it cut through the air like a knife through flesh. It’s crazed as it rings through the stillness of the dark; as it bounces around the walls of the room. I barely even realize that the sound is coming from me. I can hear it pounding along the inside of my skull, creating an endless echo as my vision runs red.
I barely register the sounds of ripping and tearing as the spider feeds, stripping the fly apart with hands, teeth, and blade. My mind briefly concludes that the spider is out of control, that I am unhinged and crazed as dark red splashes onto and drips from the walls, the ceiling, the bed.
Everything is stained and it’s all I can see as I suck the very life from the fly beneath me.
****
I can’t be sure how long it has been. All I know is that I am staring at blood drenched hands that are beginning to shake, my vision slowly letting more colors appear. The scent of freshly spilled blood hangs in the air, the metallic taste still fresh upon my tongue. Slowly I let my tongue dip out from my lips, letting it run along the sharp edge of my fangs that I can’t will myself to hide again.
Peering around the room, I take in the damage and recoil from the truth. The spider, the snake, the darkness. They have all taken over and I am no longer the one in control. I have not been so
messy since the first time.
My once white lace dress is stained dark red, the blood having seeped past the fabric to my skin. I caress the still wet fabric and watch as the colors swirl beneath my hand. A giggle escapes my lips as I peer around again, taking in my handiwork. Blood and flesh are scattered around the room and what’s left of the fly is barely even recognizable.
A true waste of a pet. He wanted power, he wanted to control, but everyone knows the fly cannot control the spider.
The laughter starts up again as I make my way towards the vanity, wiping the mirror clean with a blood free towel I had found somewhere along the way. I sit down and wipe the blood away from my face, giggling again as my makeup smears leaving black and red trails along my olive skin. It’s a true work of art. I have painted the room anew with the sweet color of life and death.
Once my face is cleaned from the painted streaks, I take care to put it back to perfection, my raven hair is suddenly highlighted with red and I find that the look is suited for the way I feel. The scent of blood is suddenly heavy and thick within the air and I find myself craving its sweet taste again.
Just one more...just for a little while longer...let us feed again... The voices are whispered within my mind, begging me to let go of what little control I have left within myself. My hands begin to shake again and I know that I am fighting a losing battle by staying here.
Where do I go?
”Lachlan.” His name leaves my lips in a breathless whisper.
But would he accept me like this? Would he help to calm me down and allow me to retake the control over this power?
I bite down on my lip, fangs piercing gently through the skin as two small new drops of blood form there. It’s a new flavor and I can hear the voices rising up again.
My decision is made and I grab the long black hooded cloak, tying it around my bloodstain form, covering my hair with the hood as I slip my feet into a pair of heels and run. My door slams shut, locking behind me as I go down the backstairs and out into the alleyway.
I have to get to him. I have to calm down before I randomly attack someone. I am in control. I have to be in control.
My name is
spider.
No, it’s
snake.
No. My name is
Kasdeya and I need an anchor to hold me down while I wrestle back my control.
I keep to the shadows even though it is the dead of night as I try and contain every urge to let go again.
My name is Kasdeya and I am in control. I have to be in control.
The hood is pulled down low to keep my face covered as I find myself at the front door of his home. Slender, stained red fingers grab the doorknob and turn only to find it locked. I can hear them telling me to turn away, to head back to the scene of carnage and release my hold on them, but I know that I can’t. Control is everything and I need it back.
Taking a deep breath, I bang my fist upon the door in a frantic pattern, praying to who even knows what that Lachlan has yet to fall into a heavy sleep.
Kasdeya