The Spider Inside Her

Chapter One

Such a sad child, a deep, sinister voice said. Alone in the wild.

My eyes opened. A figure sat next to me, cloaked in a black hood. His fingers were a corpse gray with long black fingernails shaped like sickles. I wanted to scream. Wanted to run for my life. Wanted to…

My body remained lying on the ground without an inch of give. Only when I calmed and cleared my throat did I hear my timid voice. W-w-who are you? W-what do you want?

Like me, the shadow man didn’t move. Just sat there like he was crossed-legged, a small mountain of darkness with obvious edges that looked like shoulders that angled down to elbows.

Disturbing things linger in these woods. Sinister. Frightening. All of them ready to devour a tender morsel like you.

At first, fear struck me like the electric cord whelps that my grandfather had lit across my legs, because I had accidentally left the chicken coop open. Of course, he and my grandmother would beat us kids for just about anything these days, including walking across the floor too loud.

What does it matter? Defeated, I stared at the trees overhead, leaves rustling with the breeze. My biggest fear wasn’t what lay outside. It was what waited inside, that horror house we called our grandparents’ home.

The stranger glanced over his shoulder. You want them dead, don’t you? I can smell it. Like the stink of those sows you have slumbering in your barn.

And you stink like… Well…I didn’t know what he stank like exactly. In fact, there wasn’t a smell at all. Not surprising, considering my dreams didn’t have odors.

Lots of anger, too. Tell me, child. Unburden yourself.

I’m not burdened. I’m fifteen.

He chuckled, low and sinister. The complete opposite of jolly, old St. Nick. I meant to say that it would make you feel better if you talk about it. I’ve tried that with your grandparents, but… He sighed, his shoulders shrugging. Well, you don’t need me to tell you the results of that. I’m sure you’ve felt them across your legs.

Again, the pain licked across my skin. There had to be at least a dozen marks, if not more. I ran out here around sundown. We finished our slave chores, and I was the last out of the chicken coop. I was tired and hungry. I just didn’t think. It wasn’t like the chickens had gotten far. My brother and sister and some neighborhood kids helped me round them up. We had them back inside in no time. But that wasn’t good enough. The second I walked inside the house, he closed and locked the door on my siblings and friends and beat the crap out of me. I got away and ran out here. Been here ever since. I’m not going back inside. No way.

The hooded figure leaned close. His breath stank of old gym sneakers that had been festering in a locker for hours. Why don’t you tell your parents? They know, don’t they?

They do, but they always talk to us about not antagonizing them. They promised us things will get better, and we’ll never have to spend summers with them again. That this is only temporary. I believe them. Our parents wouldn’t do anything to hurt us, if they could help it.

But they—

Don’t have a choice. I scowled at the figure, wanting to tear into his shrouded face if he said anything bad about them. They sent us here for the summer so they can work double shifts. So we can have new clothes and things when school starts. Whatever is left over goes in the bank for the bills. They’re always higher in the winter. My folks wouldn’t have to work so hard if our grandparents had grown kindness instead of corn. Instead of helping my parents, all they ever do is remind them what failures they are. Mom and Dad are paying their dues for the good of us all. So we can be a family again. Just like we are now.

He raised his hands, though I couldn’t tell for sure if they were really hands, since he sat in the shadows. Fair enough. Besides, we’re talking about your grandparents now. About their greed and hatred toward you and your siblings. It’s almost like they blame you for even being alive.

They did more than that. They blamed us for our parents never having anything. Said we were a drain on their wallets and should have been given up for adoption. Better yet, aborted.

Still unable to move my body, I tried to turn my head some more to make sure I had a good view of the mysterious man. How do you know so much about my family?

Like I said. I’ve been talking to your grandparents for years. I know them better than you do. I know their innermost secrets and desires. I even know what they want to do to you.

If that was supposed to scare me, it didn’t. I turned my attention back to the trees again.

The creature shifted. Don’t you know what they have in store for you? Don’t you want to get them before they get you? I can help you with that, you know.

A few blinks fought a flood of tears from slipping across my temples and into the roots of my hair. I shook my head. In all honesty…I don’t care what they do or what happens to them. They aren’t my family. They’re monsters, who should rot in hell.

A cold finger slipped from my temple to my cheek. It wasn’t the kind of cold like ice or snow. It was the kind of cold where only evil things grew, slinking their filthy roots into the heart of mankind.

Something squeezed out of the pore just above my brow. Cold, tiny pricks stepped across my skin. A twig perhaps? No. Not a twig. A fucking spider. Ohymygod! And…I can’t move. Holy shit, I can’t move!

Panic flooded my blood. I screamed. Screamed loud enough to ache my temples and burn my throat.

I bolted up so fast that I never noticed the spider webs encasing me. Anxiety ate through me a second time, inciting a shriek from the bottom of my lungs. I leaped to my feet and began swiping at the horrifying mess, batting my hair in case the eight-legged monsters were looking for a place to build a nest. Freed, I swept my hands up and down my arms and stomped my feet a few times just to make sure.

A painful twinge brought my hand to the back of my shoulder, one more painful than my whelped legs.

Flames caught the corner of my eye. My stomach sunk to my kneecaps. The chicken house burned against the night sky with the last of the fiery chickens bouncing in a frenzy before giving up and letting the horror consume them.

A hand grabbed me, whipping me around. I stared into the face of my fuming grandfather. Dirt and soot covered his clothes, but it was the thick stick he held above his head that scared me into pissing my clothes.

Set the hen house on fire? he yelled. Burn my property, you little shit. I’ll show you!

The stick came down across my back.

Chapter Two

Fifteen years later…

The haggard young woman looked like death had wiped its feet on her before spitting on her and kicking her aside. She stood on the sidewalk with her stringy black hair, in desperate need of a comb to pull out the knots. Her skin was so pale that it would take spackled makeup to bring back the life in her limp, soulless cheeks. And her eyes. Empty. Shocky. As blue as the sky on a good day. Sadly, she made it clear that this was the most terrifying storm of her entire existence.

I took her hand and eased her hesitant body forward. My name is Loréal Ingram. I slid my arm around her twiggy shoulders and aimed her at one of our receptionists who prided herself on the lime green strands parted on the right side of her bob. This is Tiffany. She’ll take good care of you. She’ll get you a change of clothes and a warm meal.

Detective Pete La Roche, my boyfriend’s best friend, touched my elbow. The look in his eyes said he wanted to talk. I nodded once to let him know we would, but I needed to get this poor waif situated first. Being the manager of an abuse shelter had pretty much laid out my priorities. Legalities came second.

I continued to talk to her on our way inside the building, though she hardly had anything to say or an emotion to express. Hatred, sadness, happiness. Anything would’ve been better than this numbness. There wasn’t any fear or trembling that radiated from her body. Only the shell of a woman who needed to be made whole again. I wanted to help her with that, but I needed to talk to Pete and find out her story. Dr. Kurtz, our part-time shrink, would no doubt question me once he arrived, so I wanted to be prepared to help him help her.

After the handoff to Tiffany, the aide walked Annika Downey down the hall to one of the private rooms. I turned my attention to Pete.

He was a rather large man who could stand to lose a few pounds around the middle. He was completely bald, though I had never figured out if that was by choice or chance. His gray eyes told a story of age and experience coupled with the joy and fun of a guy half his age. That was what I liked most about Pete. Regardless of the situation, there was something in him that recognized how precious life was and how not to waste it.

He motioned his cleft chin at Tiffany and Annika. You gonna have one of the docs take a look at her?

I nodded. That’s standard procedure when someone comes in like that. Where did you find her?

He sighed and ran a hand across his scalp. Despite the mild temperatures of Atlanta’s late September, a pocket of sweat had developed on the armpit of his shirt. Some idiot just pushed her out of a car at the pool hall. Lucky for her, Cash and I were there playing a few games to close out a horrible day at work. She didn’t talk much, but made it clear she didn’t want the cops or anybody. That she’d find her own way.

At three in the morning? My brow lifted. She doesn’t know you guys are cops?

No. And I’d like to keep it that way. Women in her state scare too easily. Cash got a name and age out of her, but that’s it. No parents or an address. Since neither one of us can bring her home, we thought we’d bring her here. Thought maybe she’d be better off and all. Whoever hurt her, hurt her good. I’m talking more than psychologically.

I noticed that from the first head-to-toe glance. The blood on her legs steaming from under her flowing skirt was a dead giveaway. With it being both on the inside and outside, it was hard to tell if she had been raped.

He paused. She had burn marks around her wrists and ankles. Like someone had shackled her. When I asked her about it, she tried to hide the evidence with her clothes. So, I left it alone.

"This isn’t the lawful thing to do, you know."

Sighing, Pete began pacing the white tiled floor. Who are you tellin’? It’s just… I don’t know. A sigh steamed from his nostrils, teeming with frustration. You’re the expert here. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing unless she wants to press charges.

She doesn’t want to, does she. I made it a statement because I had been through this too many times to count with domestic violence cases.

Not in this shape. What good would it do to call the cops if she wasn’t going to cooperate? All she’d get is some hard-ass trying to pressure her. I’d rather see her safe for at least one night of her life. So does Cash. A good night’s sleep and a warm meal, too. That’s why she’s here. I’ve seen the stuff you do, Lore. At least I know she’s in a much better place for the next few hours than being on the street.

This was way out of my league. I was the lowly manager of an abuse shelter. Not a psychiatrist who helped shattered people put their lives back together. The most I could do was welcome victims with open arms and hand them off to those more qualified to handle them.

When Pete called us a half hour ago, I was hesitant about him and Cash bringing her here. For selfish reasons more so than anything else. A few days ago, Nicole and Faythe Baldwin were gunned down on their way to court to testify against Nicole’s abusive husband Trent. After hearing the news, I rushed over to the safe house where she was staying, hoping against all hellfire that everything was okay. It wasn’t.

What happened with the Baldwins was a huge blow to abuse victims…and one that made me think about updating my resume now that the economy had picked up. I had invested a lot of my time and heart in these guys. They were the reason why I stayed this long. How much longer it would be, I couldn’t say. It took a special breed to do this kind of work. I wasn’t it and ashamed to admit it.

Annika scared me. I worried that she would be the next Nicole and Faythe Baldwin with some crazed lunatic who would do more than just lock her up in shackles if he ever got his hands on her again. I didn’t want that kind of responsibility. Not this soon.

Shoving my fears aside, I went against my grain and okayed Pete and Cash to bring her. If it wasn’t Voices, then it would be some other shelter who would probably frown on the detectives’ breaking the rules. I didn’t want to see those guys reprimanded for having a heart.

Folding my arms against my chest, I leaned against the counter. She can stay as long as she wants. You know that. But you guys are going to have to get involved. Officially, that is.

Yeah. I know. Pete continued to look down the hall like a guardian more so than a cop did. We need to get our hands on the bastard who dumped her on the road. For all we know, he knows something.

Sighing, wishing I could do more, I shook my head. Until she’s ready to talk, nobody’s going to learn anything. Might as well take care of her tonight and worry about the aftermath in the morning. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Or afternoon.

He half-smiled. Whatever you say.

A scream ripped down the hall from room where Tiffany and Annika entered moments ago. The receptionist backed into the corridor with both of her hands up to her mouth and horror raking her wide eyes and ashen face.

I tore into a brisk walk, desperate to keep my composure in check while wanting to get to the bottom of the hysteria. I glanced at Tiffany before pushing the half-opened door completely open.

Annika stood in the middle of the room with a knife held parallel to the inside of her wrist and her body turned toward us. Loss marred her empty eyes to the point that there was nothing left. No hope. No prayers of salvation. No reason to live. Whatever tore her heart apart, it permeated the room and swept her up in its melancholy thickness.

Where are the damn shrinks? They need to be here. Like now. Me and my Cliff’s Notes version of Psychology 101 wasn’t up for this type of thing. This was so far out of my league that even a psychiatric GPS couldn’t get me back on track.

With my gaze locked on hers, I approached her with my palms up and hoping to snatch the knife before something really bad happened. Annika, you have to give me that. Please. Nobody is going to hurt you here. You have my word.

She shook her head, focus locked on me. Her disheartened face said hope was as distant a memory as childhood dreams. Can’t stay. She’ll find me. She always does.

Nobody’s going to take you away. I swear, I won’t let her.

A tremble worked into my throat just as I finished my last statement. I should’ve had a better grip on the situation. Not create a bigger frenzy. I didn’t want to see her life ended on such short notice. I had failed one mother and daughter. I wasn’t about to let history repeat itself.

I stepped forward with my hand held out. A grunt came from behind, the police officer in Pete warning me to be careful. He probably had his gun drawn, meaning I didn’t want to turn around and find out because it would only piss me off.

Ignoring him, I continued. Annika, let’s sit down and talk. At least tell me why you’re doing this. Give me something to tell your family.

She lifted her head, determination filling her ghostly eyes. She’ll kill them because of me. Her demonic touch so cold it made my skin crawl. Like things were really moving underneath it. Can’t let that happen to anyone else. Can’t bring the dark woman here. Have to leave. Have to…

She turned and leaped through the closed window behind her. Glass shattered outward, leaving jagged-edged pieces of pane, some tipped in blood.

I surged forward and leaned around the sharp shards. Annika’s motionless body sent me into a panic. Lifting my one foot through first, I carefully got enough of my body through to hop off the sill and landed next to her.

She still wasn’t moving. Please. Please. Please. God, I can’t do this again. Images of the Baldwins flashed through my mind. My stomach curled at the memory of the paramedics carrying two body bags from the so-called safe house. The house that I recommended.

I blinked away the thought and refocused my attention again. I hesitated, fingers curling and uncurling before forcing myself to turn Annika over.

The knife handle stuck from her belly.

"Ohmygod," I breathed as panic seized my vocal cords. I pressed my hands to the wounds, trying hard not to cut myself on the edge of the blade.

There was too much blood. Just too much. I couldn’t stop, it and I couldn’t save her. Damn it to hell!

Chapter Three

I couldn’t say when I my shellshock wore off, only I had become aware of my surroundings after a few hours. Nathan Letteri, my boyfriend, was the first person I recognized. The worry marring his face was nothing compared to the grief on mine. My second awareness came when Gemini, my calico cat, hopped off the bed and sashayed out the door.

On our one-year anniversary of officially going steady, Nathan and I had traded keys to each other’s homes. His was a condo near downtown Atlanta, which I loved to pieces. Busting my ass for years in the corporate sector as a Director of Internet Security and Compliance didn’t amount to shit when my company went under. With a 50 percent pay cut, I had to downsize from an immaculate four-bedroom home to a minimally furnished two-bedroom bungalow with a barren guest room.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at this point. No amount of money or property would bring Annika or the Baldwins back.

A knock came to the bathroom door. You okay in there? Nathan asked.

My shoulders jolted. I’m…I’m fine. I continued to stare at myself in the mirror, wondering why I bothered.

Not even the passionless expression marring my light brown face and blank, dark eyes. Thank goodness I hadn’t rubbed my flat nose raw from all of the sniffling. My mood remained as black and limp as the curls that usually fell an inch or two over my narrow shoulders. The only reason why I was doing an inspection was to make sure Nathan and I had scrubbed all of Annika’s blood off me.

I clicked the light off on my way out the bathroom.

My boyfriend sat up in my bed with his arms wrapped around his bents knees and staring, dim lighting darkening his hazel eyes. He offered his hand, which I gladly took while he helped me back into bed.

His warm snuggle came with a kiss to my cheek and a tight arm around my waist. Dr. Kurtz gave me some valium to help you sleep. You want any?

I shook my head. Drugs and I didn’t mix. I had done my share of bongs and marijuana as a college freshmen, and they ended up helping me to the quick road to academic probation. I learned my lesson so well that I ended up on the dean’s list every semester after that.

Annika’s dead, isn’t she? The question came out of my mouth before I realized it. A part of me wanted to believe there was a chance I might have been wrong. That through some miracle, they had saved her at the hospital. But I knew that wasn’t the case. She was dead and gone. A shell of a child wasting away in a morgue.

Sighing, Nathan pulled back and leaned against the headboard. His arm remained on my shoulder as if worried that breaking contact might result in serious consequences. Sorry, hon. There was just too much blood.

He didn’t need to tell me where it all went. I had worn most of it on the way home.

A strangled breath brought on a surge of new emotions and tears with it. Just knowing that—hearing that—stung like my own knife to the heart. Keeping my back to him, I swiped at my eyes with the hopes he didn’t see it. He must have because he squeezed my shoulder again.

Nathan threw back the comforter and pushed off the bed with the mattress dipping. He continued around by the footboard and entered the bathroom. Pete’s taking it hard, too. Wished he had never gotten you involved and all. I told him it wasn’t his fault. He was doing the right thing, though probably not the smartest. He should’ve brought her to the station.

I told him that, but… I rolled onto my back, wiping the last of my tears away and staring at the smooth ceiling. Annika was a messed up kid in need of more help than we had on hand. That was why we called Dr. Kurtz to assess her.

Yeah, well, I hope you’re listening to yourself.

Whatever.

The toilet flushed and the water turned on in the sink. Seriously. You guys aren’t licensed mental health professionals. How would you have known what she was going to do? It would take a crystal ball for that. Even the captain is giving Pete a reprieve instead of reaming him a new one. Maybe you should do the same.

I can’t. I slumped onto my back again. The shelter goes on even if I don’t. The victims won’t stop coming, so why should I stop going? There’s always going to be another Annika. Another Faythe and Nicole Baldwin.

You want me to call the Gaffneys? I’m sure they won’t have a problem with you taking a few days off like you should’ve done after the Baldwins.

I’ll handle it.

The water stopped and Nathan appeared at the doorway again, cleaning his hands with a towel. Diving into your work isn’t going to make it better, and you know it.

Dumb blond. I glared at him before turning my attention back to the bluish ceiling from the dim lighting of the room.

Normally, I didn’t go for Nathan’s type. Or rather, his didn’t go for mine. Five foot five, 146-pound type with light-brown skin, always looking for just the right diet to lose those last agonizing few pounds for the perfect body.

Perhaps it was his dimpled chin that intrigued me. Nah. Maybe it was the way his shirt hugged the gorgeous muscles along his solid chest and thick arms. Now that I thought about it, the suit did it. Nothing like a nice guy in uniform, although Nathan wasn’t particularly nice when I first met him.

He wanted to arrest one of my residents for drug trafficking, and I wouldn’t let him. I had seen fake badges before, so I wasn’t giving anyone up until I called in a badge number. As it turned out, the fugitive had five thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine given to her by a beat cop, who wanted a cut when she sold it to fund her trip out of the city. Both she and the cop went to prison.

Since that day, Nathan had taken an interest in the shelter, which completely blew me away. He thought there were things we could do better to protect ourselves like basic self-defense. He and Alesia, his partner, gave everyone free lessons on their off days as a peace offering. Far be it from us to turn away a freebie when we were hurting for them.

I shook my head and patted the side of the bed next to me. Just help me get a decent night’s sleep. That’s all I want right now. And before I forget…thanks for staying.

He shrugged. No biggie. Just wanted to be here for my sweetie.

That brought the first smile to my face in what felt like decades.

Once Nathan was back in bed cuddling with me, we remained silent for a few minutes, though neither of us falling asleep. I knew because the sounds of deep slumber had yet to rock his chest.

Nate?

Hmmm?

I rolled my lips together, wondering if I should ask this. Maybe it was so morbid enough that he might start to question my sanity and get Dr. Kurtz to evaluate me next. Still, I had to know.

I turned from our spooning to face him. If it’s okay and it doesn’t get you in any trouble…I’d like to know more about Annika. I mean like what kind of kid she was. Her background and stuff before she ended up where she did. That’s assuming there’s any information.

He stared. Why do you want to know that?

Because I’ve always taken an interest in everyone who comes through Voices’ doors. She had made it that far, so she’s no exception.

A perplexed look had him studying an invisible spot on the windows across from the footboard. I could lose my job for this, you know.

I know.

***

The following day started off like any other, except Nathan preferred I take the day off to make sure my senses were back. So, I got dressed as usual and was ready for work. But there was one thing I had to do before heading out the door. I called my sister to see where she stood on her new business venture.

For the past year, Yazmine had been asking me to be the assistant manager of Dionysus, her bar and grill. I said no because the job paid less than Voices, and that wouldn’t help my strangled finances. Less than a month ago, she had gotten the approval for a loan to open another restaurant…and handed me a different offer I found hard to ignore. While Yazmine was good at what she did, I wasn’t ready to jump into the fire until she had things under control. But with the way things were going, Annika was the straw that made me think about jumping ship. I wasn’t cut out for this no matter how much I wanted to pretend that I was.

When I closed my car door, an invisible guillotine chopped deep into my horrid memories. My stomach tightened.