Crypsis

I haven’t felt safe in awhile.

I pray constantly. Every few seconds I worry something will happen. That’ll I’ll get hurt or discovered. Or worse, that something will happen to someone I care about before I even get the chance to tell them. Even before what went on today, it’d been getting harder to sleep. You cry so hard for so long that it’s never really a surprise when the sun comes up before you get to rest. Sometimes I give in at that point and sleep through the day, or maybe I’ll just slide right out of the covers and act like nothing happened. Either way it fucks me up. But I don’t work or go anywhere, so it’s not like I can’t just collapse in the middle of the day if I want to. I’m free.

A house is more than a lot of people have. A family at that. There’s my little sister who I spend all afternoon hanging out with, there’s my dad who drives me to the store every few months to pick up my secret little prescriptions (which he pays for…) and there’s my mom, too.

My mother’s a good woman. I didn’t always love the tone of her voice but she never really did anything all that bad to me. I know a lot of girls like me grow up in far worse places and come across far worse consequences when unlike me they actually make an effort to be themselves. And she was a beautiful woman for a time too. Those times are getting hard to remember now, but I really looked up to my mother. She was only a bit older than I am now when she had me, so when my dad was out working somewhere else I would go with her as she tried to scrap together what other money she could for us. I think she did cleaning, we’d be in a different house every day as she left the TV on in the background and I watched her work. I didn’t know she was doing all that for me then, I just loved her because she was my best friend at the time. Soon enough I wanted to be like her. But life goes on, it drags on us all in different ways. The people you know stay the same people, you just don’t… see them the same way.

She had shown a few signs already. On the way to the dentist, I could tell her spine was crooked. I didn’t say anything, it felt rude at the time. God knows I never wanna get that old. But what she said to me then was harder to ignore. It sounded like garbled saliva noise and came from the bottom of her throat, like a completely unconscious growling. But somehow I could tell what she meant by it.

“You’re not my daughter.”

It was so out of character that it didn’t really register. I thought about retorting about a minute later- probably something corny like, “Uhh, then who the heck’s daughter am I?” But it was too late for that and I had always been a coward anyway. Wouldn’t have gotten in trouble- that I can say for sure now- but even if it’s logical I just can’t imagine it getting a response out of the woman to begin with.

I want to communicate. I really do. But when people say these sorts of things out of nowhere it pushes me back in, even if those remarks are supposed to get me out of my shell. Why would you say that kind of thing to me? That’s what I was really thinking. But this morning, it was nothing but a memory. After all the insomnia and depression from the event passed, it became just another hazy memory. I didn’t think anything less of her for it.

Then came this morning.

It was early. At long last I’d slept like a baby, nearly clocking ten hours as my body forced itself to shut down after all I’d put it through. For better or worse it felt like a blank slate- one I’d hoped to cover in markers, before the thing was stained red. Maybe this was it, I thought. Maybe now was the time. As I said, I never was one for being myself. I’ve got a critical repulsion to the idea, really. I’d like to say it’s something supernatural, but really, I just hate myself. Not much of a way to put it other than that.

But this day- this morning- I wasn’t feeling that so much. I had a big day ahead of me, catching up on the writing time I lost in my sadness, when I walked out into the hall of my nice little home and saw it there.

Not my mom anymore. But something wearing her face. A face that was extended outward by its bent body and neck, the thing standing on one leg as two others flailed about in the air. Jutting its entire body forward, the head was about on level with my chest. There wasn’t the slightest hint of an expression on it. It opened her mouth again, prying her lips apart with its bony fingers, but only pus and rabid foam leaked out. Still, I could hear words in the popping of the subtly red-tinted bubbles.

“You’re so ugly. Why are you still alive?”

I couldn’t understand. I still can’t make myself come to terms with it. The body wasn’t quite hers, and yet… somehow, I knew the voice was.

“I would’ve just aborted you if I had known you would turn out to be like this.”

I’m ashamed to say I couldn’t speak then. The creature paralyzed me. Not with its dead eyes or pointed claws, but the things she was saying using its body.

“You will never be anyone’s daughter.”

I put on a miffed expression, but my anger didn’t come through, not even to myself. I didn’t feel angry. Not right away. And not scared, either. Just confused. Just oh so confused. I’m still so, so confused.

Part of me thought she was right.

“I’ll be happy if you could at least kill yourself by the end of today. Could you do that for me? Could you do just that? Thanks.”

And I nodded.

I’ve been in my room since. I thought I only obeyed to get away, but… it was more instinct that anything else. And the more I think about that spider my mother turned out to be… the more I do start to glance over at the pocket knife I’ve had since I was a kid.

I’ve been here before. I’m not totally dissatisfied with life, but it’s hard to imagine the point of things once you find out your mom’s a monster. I can still hear her down there. Skittling. Crawling on the walls. I don’t care for her much at all anymore, but I get the impression it wouldn’t really matter to the woman if I told her that or not.

It’s set in by now. The truth. There’s not a good way out of this web. If I can’t trust her, then who can I? My dad… well, he married her. He must be a monster too. My sister would be the same, naturally. Me? Well, that’s neither here nor there. But my friends? Can’t write them off. Didn’t have the smallest of suspicions of my mom before she laid it out for me. If she could be a monster, so could anyone else I know. Anyone else I meet. Anyone in the entire world. Maybe it’s everyone but me, or maybe I’m just a monster myself. Maybe all people like me are.

I wonder… are monsters scared of each other, too?

I couldn’t do it.

The next day I didn’t leave my cave until dinner time. I heard her calling for me, in the old voice she used to use. She used my name. It sounded loving. When I walked down the stairs, my sister to the left of her and my father at the opposite head- I saw her, grinning in an insectoid form nobody but me seemed to notice.

I sat down, I ate. And as the family started to talk, I joined in. Nobody was mad at me. Nothing had even happened. Not that anyone else had seen. My mom was still my mom to them, and she always would be. But my hand slipped into my pocket, and I could feel the warm metal of the knife I’d been holding against myself for the past few hours. Now it was something I’d brought down to protect me. Something to keep on myself just in case, in her presence.

That knife never really left my pocket after that.