Italics- thoughts/ flashbacks/ dreams
Bold- author talking
Underline- narrator talking, known as the main character
Normal- normal story

1741 words

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There's a huge ass spider.

HUGE. Like Australian size.

Right on the side of the tub.

I just stare at it.

It stares back. Then it starts crawling to me.

I slowly walk out with my hands up. I turn and walk to the back of the couch.

"There's this huge ass spider and it LOOKED at me! Then it started crawling to me!"

He looks away from the TV and to me, "so?"

"Get rid of it! It's fucking massive and furry!"

He sighs before getting up and walking over to the bathroom. I follow him.

He leans against the door frame taking the whole space.

"Do you see it?" I ask behind him.

"Of course I do."

"Get rid of it."

"She's just a baby."

"A baby?!? The fucker's body is big as my fingers!"

He goes that low laugh thing before walking over to the tub and picking up the spider.

"I'm not going to murder a baby." He holds her up to hif face before holding his hand out to me.

"Say hi to her." He fucking pets the damn spider.

"I ain't talking to no damn spider."

"But she's so cute." He takes a long lazy step to me and holds the spider in front of me.

She looks at me and blinks.

I look at her stunned.

"Hold her."

"No."

"Your dad owned a 20 year old tarantula bird spider hybrid that was 3 times bigger than her and you were obsessed with it when you were little. Don't act like this isn't new to you and hold the damn spider before I put her on your face."

I forgot about Godzilla. It died when I was between 3-5 I don't remember.

I loved the damn thing as much as every animal I grew up with.

I put my hand under his giant sleeve covered hand. He tips his hand up so the spider crawls on to my hand.

I look at the spider and she looks back at me. All her little eyes are triggering my trypophobia.

"Take her back."

I put the spider in his hands and he walked out petting the spider.

I close the door and look in the mirror at my chubby face. My hair looks messy as it normally does at the end of the day. There's bags under my eyes and my face is sorta clear from acne.

I turn on the shower and make sure the door is closed.

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I walk.

And walk.

And walk.

Those three steps to the front room from the bathroom.

I sit on the edge of the couch cuz he's sprawled out across is like he owns the damn thing.

"Want nachos?" He holds a plate in front of me.

"I already brushed my teeth."

"Oh." He stuffs the plate in the pocket of his pants.

"How the fuck did you do that?" I look at the pocket on his pants that looks completely empty.

"Do what?" He says completely confused.

I looked at him shocked, "nevermind." His tactics give me a headache.

"What do you want to watch?"

"The shacked," I watched that movie with my grandma before and loved it.

"Fuck no."

I give him a dirty look before picking a different movie I watched with my grandma, "the vanished."

It appears on TV.

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Once the movie is over it's now dark outside. My sleeping schedule is ruined more than ever now.

He sits up, reaches over the couch and drags me close to him. He puts me between his long ass legs and wraps his arms around my stomach.

Is this how Pikachu feels before I squeeze the hell out of him?

Am I going to get crushed next? That would suck.

"You're so beautiful my crippled venomous butterfly." He says in a low hot voice that gives me feelings my very virgin self never felt before.

"Thanks?" I pause for a second, "why do you keep calling me that?"

"my crippled venomous butterfly?"

"Yea, that's such a weird name."

"It's not weird."

"Then tell me how."

"Venomous butterflies are such colorful little creatures that try to make the most of their short life before they die. They're so frail and beautiful. They fight till they can't anymore. They get hurt but keep going till their body won't let them. The beautiful little creatures are so smart and determined but in the end you can just pinch them and they die."

Should I be honored or terrified?

"Oh. Cool."

These past 2 weeks have been so goofy.

"What's your name?"

He swiftly lays across the couch and puts me on top of him so we're chest to chest. He intertwined his hands over the back of my waist.

"Why do you want to know?"

"So I know what to call you or address you by."

I look at the endless shadow under his hood.

"Call me death, or you could make a name for me." He slightly squeezes my waist.

I nod. "Why do my pants disappear every time you appear? Do my pants give you energy to teleport?"

"I already told you, I love your thighs."

I smile a big ol' happy smile, "I love my thighs too," I say mainly to myself.

He then traces my sides again but it's from the mid of my thighs up to my waist. Then across the curve of my back till his hands meet and back the same way. Over and over again.

"When do I get to claim you? I've been waiting all your life."

Not him ruining the high I was getting from being caressed.

"I don't know."

"Why are you making this so much more than it has to be?"

"I don't want to leave everyone I know."

"I already told you I'm not going to trap you in my house like a controlling maniac."

Oh yea.

"I don't want to live with you."

"Why?"

"I never lived with a man before besides my dad, it's weird to me."

"And this isn't weird to you?"

"I don't want to see demons."

"The house is protected so they can't come in, only Lucifer can because he's stronger than me but the last time he came by unannounced I cut one of his horns off."

Wow.

"Do you have wifi?"

"There's no wifi in hell."

"I'm not going then."

"The hell you aren't."

"Nope." I sit up so I'm straddling him but the couch is so small that my one leg is hanging off but I have no balance either so I'm basically sitting on him with extra steps.

"Why go if there's no wifi?"

"Why do you need wifi so much?"

"I wanna build my career and I need wifi to do online stuff."

"Why would you need a career in hell?"

"To pay the bills."

"There aren't any bills in hell."

I raise my eyebrows.

"And your room is as big as your apartment."

My interest is rising.

"There's an attached bathroom with a built-in closet and laundry room."

"Holy hell that's fancy."

"Hell isn't holy."

"What is hell like?"

"Hot and red."

"I'm still not going."

He drags his hands over his face before crossing his arms.

"Why?"

Cuz I like annoying you as payback for you traumatizing me.

"It's such a huge change."

"You'll just be living with me in hell. Everything else in your life will be the same, maybe better."

"But I don't want to have this big fancy room and everyone I know stays in poverty. It's not fair to them," my voice saddens and my chest gets that heavy feeling again, "I can't be happy before everyone else is. It's not fair to them."

He holds my hands with his soft sleeve covered ones. "Put yourself first for once. Stop depending on other people to live your life. Stop blinding yourself with selflessness and hiding in a wagon to get dragged around with little needles in the walls poking fear in you. No one is going to hate you if you do something with yourself. This isn't helping people, you are hiding yourself from the beauties of life. There is so much more out there. This world is prettier than heaven and you're missing out."

One of the most feared beings on this planet is giving me the best advice I've ever heard and easily pulling tears out of my eyes.

"I'm too emotional for this." He chuckles before pulling me against his chest.

It's night now and I'm overwhelmed with so many emotions.

I skipped school again, on a Wednesday out of all days. Who skips school on Wednesday? I usually pick Fridays or even Mondays on some rare occasions.

Should I laugh, cry or both? Maybe neither.

Should I live my main character moment and push everyone away and be broken in a dark corner with mile high walls around me?

Should I go live my life like he said and leave?

Maybe I could get a new identity, lose 50 pounds and redye my hair to escape.

What am I talking about? I love this twisted situation. It messes with my mind in a way and I'm addicted.

My family would be so disappointed if they could read my mind or know my thoughts and the things I'm obsessed with.

They be praising the Lord while I think of what to write in my horror-romance stories.

It's silent now, all I hear is mine and his breathing. He's running his hands up and down my sides again while I look at our reflection on the TV.

I then remembered something.

"What did you do with the spider?"

"I ate her alive. Pulled off each leg and watched the blood pour out of her body"

I look at him in the reflection shocked but he just faces the ceiling.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm joking, I put her outside."

I start breathing again in relief, "You do too much."

"You don't do enough."

"I can't do anything if you're doing it all."

"Fair."

It's so quiet and peaceful and dark. The lights and TV are off.

I pat him on the shoulder, "alright buddy, I'm going to sleep."

He lets go of me, "see you soon."

He disappears in a black mist and I fall on the couch face first with an 'oof' before walking to bed.

"See ya soon too goofy bipolar man."

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*Irina walks onto the stage with a cracked guitar before blowing to the audience.

She then starts playing horrible noises with unturned strings and no experience.

Death appears again.*

"Seriously, what's your obsession with these people? And why are you abusing the poor guitar? Put the poor thing out of its misery."

"No."

"Why are you always so stubborn?"

"I get it from you."

*Death rolls his eyes before throwing her over his shoulder again just to dramatically disappear in true death fashion.*