Page 8 of Widow

I dropped the phone to the floor and shut my eyes. I felt him move towards me, and then he put his hand on my arm.

“Hey, are you okay? We could just do this in my car.”

I opened my eyes. There was still a faint light from his cell phone. I knew he could see me. I knew he could see my eyes. I knew for sure when his own eyes went wide, and he backed up several steps.

“Holy shit! What the fuck?”

My mind went blank as the spiders poured out of me. I never could remember what happened, but a few months ago, I had set my phone up and recorded the whole ordeal.

The spiders poured out of my mouth, my nose, and some even made their way out of my skin. It’s really quite fucked up, and after watching that video, I had dry heaved for hours.

When it was over, I stood there blinking. The man was gone. There was nothing left. Not clothes. Not bones. Nothing.

That was why I always asked for the keys.

I bent down to pick up the cell phone on the ground. When I stood, something hit me over the back of the head, and everything went black.

* * *

I was so cold.My hands, my ears, and the tip of my nose were freezing. I blinked my eyes open and looked around the metal box I was in. Shelves lined the wall with metal containers and boxes.

I was in a refrigerator. How the hell had I gotten in a damn fridge?

I groaned and rolled over onto my back, the cold floor biting through my clothing. My head was throbbing from the hit I had taken from behind. It was hard to tell if I had a concussion since I was also in a cold metal box.

Where were my spiders on that one? They should have seen it coming. Maybe they were just man drunk.

I pulled myself to my feet, steadying myself by putting a hand on a shelf, and looked around. Wherever I was, they served an awful lot of seafood. There’s nothing worse than waking up after being hit upside the head to find yourself staring into the dead eyeballs of fish.

Spending Christmas Eve locked in an industrial refrigerator was not what I had planned. I'd much rather have been at home, curled up with a glass of wine and a book featuring hot men that did sinful things with their penises.

I tried the safety release handle on the door, but it didn’t budge. There was a safety bell off to the side, and I pressed the button. Although, whoever had locked me in here probably didn’t want me out.

Had they seen everything? God, I hoped not. I could only imagine what I looked like with spiders pouring out of my body, eating a man, and then having them go right back into me.

My stomach heaved, and I swallowed hard. I needed a shower.

I had to find a way to get rid of them. To get rid of her. I was fairly certain that the spider I had seen on my pillow was the head honcho. The ones that came out of me were so much smaller.

I shuddered as my thoughts raced. Had that bitch laid eggs in me? I bet she was laughing her little spider-butt off at how freaked out I was.

I pounded on the door and rang the bell repeatedly, my finger going numb from the cold and repeated jabbing. The door was thick, so I couldn’t hear anything on the other side. How long could I survive in there?

Industrial refrigerators were built solid and airtight. Judging by the size of it, like a small bedroom, I probably had somewhere between one and two hours before my air supply ran out. However, I really had no clue how long I had been locked inside.

Hopefully, it had only been a short time. Although, maybe this was for the best. I'd grow tired, fall asleep, and then it would all be over.

I slid down and sat against the door, pulling my knees to my chest. The key was trying to keep my body temperature from dropping further. It had to be less than forty degrees inside. I saw the thermometer on the far wall but wanted to conserve my energy, so I didn't get up to look.

Dammit.Dying in a walk-in refrigerator was a lousy way to go. At least it wasn’t a walk-in freezer.

I knew it was only a matter of time before someone figured out that I was different. I wasn’t even sure how to classify myself anymore. I felt human. I looked human, besides when the spiders did their work.

But how could I be human when spiders lived inside of me? The worst part was that I fucking hated spiders. Maybe this was spider karma for killing them all the time.

I heard the handle on the door move. I quickly rose to my feet and backed up farther into the refrigerator. I needed a weapon, but there was nothing to use besides a fish. That could work in a pinch. If someone threw a dead fish at me, I would move out of the way.

The door opened slowly, and the barrel of a gun appeared. I shut my eyes, and I called the spiders inside of me. If they were going to make an appearance, now would be the time. It wasn't like I had ever tried to talk to them before.

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