#spidermaul

Waking up in the hospital is a trip. You always see it happen in tv shows and movies, but you’d always thought the actors were overselling it. Nope. You are extremely confused for a solid few minutes before you try to sit up and you feel the distinctive stiffness of bandages over your shoulder and head. You pull at the scratchy gown to look down at the gauze on your shoulder, then hear the door to your room slide open. 

The nurse introduces himself and explains your treatment, then asks you what you remember. You take a few moments, trying to make sense of what you saw. No one was going to believe you, and if you told them the truth, you’d be in here a lot longer for observation than you would be with just your concussion.

“I was hiking and… I came across a homeless encampment. One of them was very violent. I was able to make it back to the parking lot but I passed out.” You lie, the story sounding reasonable enough in your own fuzzy mind.

The nurse seems to believe you as well. He explains that they will keep you for observation for the rest of the night and then if everything seems normal, you will be discharged. With all of that settled, you are left with your thoughts. You look around the room to see your belongings in a bag on a bedside table. You find your phone.

There is a crack spider-webbing from one corner. Your breath hitches as you run a finger over the crack and feel the slightly raised edge of glass. Luckily, it still functions fine, but staring at the ruined screen just makes you anxious, so you set it back on the table and look up at the television. The volume is too low to hear what is happening in the show that is playing, but having something to focus on helps the minutes tick by.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Returning to your apartment seems to bring you back to reality. The whole day seems so distant and dramatic that you still honestly wonder if it happened or if it was some sort of hallucination. Hearing the locks on your door click hurtles you back into clear consciousness for the first time in hours. You rest your forehead against the cool wood of your door and feel your eyes widen an almost painful amount as you stare down at your feet.

Your breathing quickens, as does your heart rate and you slide down to your knees. You feel like you need to get out of your own skin, like you want to rip it from your bones and escape the prison of your physical being as it curls in on itself and shakes with full bodied tremors. Your body and mind aren’t safe, nowhere is safe - you’re exposed. You turn and press your back against your front door and bring your knees to your chest, your leggings absorbing some of your tears as they stream down your hot cheeks.

Somehow, amongst the terror of your panic attack, there is a feeling that settles over you. A feeling of satisfaction - it is not your own. It feels as if you are being watched, similar to if you were performing on stage and can feel an applause waiting for the moment you finish your line; electric, buzzing, excited. The realization only makes you choke on your sobs. What is this? 

You crawl on your hands and knees to your bedroom and into bed. The blankets are pulled up over your head and somehow gives you a sense of security, which allows you to finally pass out after the long day you’ve had.

It’s here. No, he’s here. You somehow know that the thing lurking in the shadows of your dream is a he. You can feel him, circling you, chasing you through the woods again. You’re tripping over brambles and clawing your way through what feels like an endless thicket of brush, but you get no closer to safety. He’s always just behind you. 

“Just let me in,” he cooes, you can feel his breath on your neck.

Your limbs are beginning to feel sluggish, betraying you as you continue to try to flee this being. It doesn’t matter how far you go, how desperately you climb through this unyielding forest, he’s always right there. You can almost feel his frustration, falling over you like a heavy blanket, only slowing you further.

“I will continue to hunt you. I will not stop. Accept me.”

His voice is all around you, shocking through your system and-

You shoot forward, sitting up in your bed with such force that you nearly fall forward on your hands and knees. Your breath comes to you in ragged gasps. Your skin is sticky with sweat. The wound at your shoulder throbs and screams with every movement. It’s dark in your room, but you swear the shadows in the corners seem deeper, like something is hiding in it. You quickly reach for your phone with shaky hands and shine your flashlight around your room, finding nothing amiss. 

Turning on the lamp at your bedside gives you a crumb of security. Settling back against your headboard, you immediately run to the internet.

How to get rid of unwanted presences?

You type into your search engine, finding youtube videos and articles and all manner of websites both legitimate and what you consider otherwise. After a few hours of perusing you see enough self proclaimed “witches” claiming you shouldn’t trust anything you read on the internet and you huff in frustration. You change your search.

Best books for a beginning witch.

You feel ridiculous even typing it. But you sift through a few websites and read dozens of reviews and cross reference a few, settling on a few books. You could order them online, but there is no telling how bad things will get in that time. You don’t even know if you’ll find what you need in these books, but you need to try something. So you look for any local shops that may carry them. A shop in the next town carries most of the ones you’re looking for, and it opens in a few hours.

Now you just have to wait. Easier said than done, but having the lights on helps a bit. You don’t dare leave the “safety”  of your bed. When the sun rises and fills your apartment with light, you feel comfortable enough to get up and get dressed. You force yourself to eat some toast, though it just churns in your stomach as you finally exit your apartment. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

The bookstore is exactly what you would expect. Small, tucked away, cozy. It’s nestled between a clothing boutique and a deli. There is a string of bells hanging from the inside doorknob that jingles when you enter, alerting the shopkeep to your presence. You see the balding man in a sweater leaning around one of the many bookshelves stuffed tightly into the small space. 

“Hi there,” he greets you with a careful smile, “Is there something I can help you find?”

Your first instinct is to say “no”, embarrassed with your book choices, but then remind yourself that he will have to ring you up anyhow.

“Yes,” you mumble, pulling your phone out of your pocket and approaching him. He adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose as you near him, peering down at the list of books you had saved in your online shopping cart. “Do you have any of these?” 

The shopkeep nods quietly and leads you to a bookshelf against one of the side walls. You see many thick tomes of beautiful hues and many with glittering script on their spines. You’re entranced as the man starts pulling books from the tops of their spines, making a neat stack over his arm. 

“These are what we have from your list. Is there anything else I can help you with?” He asks politely, offering you a warm smile. There is no judgment in his gaze, only the happiness of potentially selling a handful of books in one go. You were sure small shops like this ran off of purchases like this, so you couldn’t help but be a little pleased; especially considering he was kind enough not to judge you on your reading choices or the bandages still wrapped around your head. You follow him to the counter to make your purchases and leave a few dollars in the basket at the front labeled “for the shop cat” with a picture of a fluffy orange and white feline.

You don’t want to return to your apartment yet, so instead you walk up the street to the cafe you had passed and order a drink, finding an armchair to nestle into as you pull one of the books from your bag.

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This chapter sets a good tone for how a lot of this story will go. Demon!Maul is a BUTT, and basically just makes Reader’s life a living hell. A Haunty-Taunty-Butthead.

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