Page 235 of Fame & Rhythm

Then another.

And then…

Holy fuck, it’s huge.

Black. Hairy. Moving so damn slowly it’s almost mocking me, like it’s got all the time in the world to ruin my life.

My chest tightens as my breaths come too fast, too shallow. My vision blurs at the edges as she reaches in and lifts it out like it’s nothing.

How can she even touch that thing?

She brings it closer, and I jerk back in the chair, my pulse hammering violently.

“Where should we put her?” she muses. “Maybe your legs?” I shake my head frantically, panic swallowing everything else. “No?” she says with a grin. “Then legs it is.”

She lowers it onto my thigh, and a strangled sound escapes me as I jerk, but I can’t get away.

The damn thing starts to move, every tiny step feels like fire against my skin, the brush of its legs sending waves of revulsion through me. My body trembles uncontrollably as it crawls higher, each second stretching into something unbearable.

“Loretta… please,” I whisper, terrified to raise my voice in case it makes it move faster.

She laughs. “No way. I want to see it crawl over your face.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. The spider moves up my leg, onto my shirt, climbing steadily higher, and I can’t stop shaking. Tears spill freely now as it reaches my chest, then my neck. I make small, broken sounds, barely able to breathe as it creeps upward. When it touches my face, I clamp my eyes shut, every muscle in my body locking tight.

Don’t move.

Don’t breathe.

Don’t—its legs brush across my cheek, and I feel sick. Completely, utterly sick. It moves over my face, then up… and suddenly I can’t feel it anymore.

Well shit! That’s worse.

So much worse.

“Open your eyes, Acacia,” Loretta says, laughing. I shake my head, refusing. “Open them, or I’ll make you.”

Slowly, carefully, I force one eye open… then the other.

Nothing.

It’s gone.

A sob breaks out of me as I scan the room, desperate to see where it is.

“Oh, that was worth it,” she says, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “Now… what next?” She taps her lips thoughtfully. “Oh, I know… matching thumbs.”

“No!” Panic spikes again. “Please… don’t.”

She pauses, then smiles. “All right, seeing as you asked so nicely. Not yet.” She leans closer. “I think letting you wonder where Bertha is might be worse.”

My eyes dart around the room again, searching, and I can’t see it.

“Why are you doing this?” I choke out.

Her smile widens. “You had your chance to avoid all of this,” she says. “I asked nicely for money. You said no.” Her voice turns sharp. “This is on you.”

“I’m sorry your life turned out the way it did,” I say through shaking breaths. “But I didn’t choose to be born.”