What just happened? I lied on the ground staring at a blue sky, only to prop myself on my side. Clutching at yellow wilted flowers in my eyesight, with one touch of this hand they disintegrated. The last memory in this mind, a name that escaped every crevice of thought. An attempt to form words interrupted by an intense coughing fit. While I succumbed to spitting up a liquid that burned the roof of my mouth. Now gathering saliva evacuating that metallic tasting trash onto the grass. I triggered a heavy session of upchucking for several minutes, then wiped my face with my hand.

“Arachne?” I‌ sat up, “Is that you?” my eyes squinted.

“Arachne is tied up at the moment,” she laughed, “We can talk,” her hands clutched the claws.

“Why…”

“You bit off more than you could chew.”

“Where are we?”

“Let’s just say a middle ground from our memories.”

“This field…. that gigantic tree… fuck you.”

That single branch protruded outward of this Red Oak tree, where a severed rope hung, swaying in an ominous breeze. Middle ground? This insufferable memory locked away in the deepest parts of my mind. So, the beast slipped on the claws, tearing a hole in the fabric of space, dragging Arachne elsewhere. I army crawled, legs cramping immediately, unable to maintain speed with each spike of pain. Rolling onto my back to curse the heavens for this inconvenience. As if answered by a light that beamed onto me, these injuries healed.

A brief flash of light, now transported to an odd place of my old room? What? The one with all these glow-in-the-dark stars plastered on the ceiling. I laid on a twin-sized bed, entranced by my artificial night sky. The phone alarm blared, rushing to turn off the noise and rolled out of bed, thunk. No control? just a passenger on my routine, an off-putting experience.

I dragged my feet into the bathroom, splashing warm water onto my face. Sloppily standing to observe these bloodshot eyes and black circles. I dug through a pile of dirty laundry from my white plastic hamper. Sniffing at the rank clothes, only one set at the bottom; satisfied this need. Really? A chewed up red shirt with baggy pants? I headed down the carpeted stairs with rolled up socks in my jeans pocket.

“Aurielle is that what you’re wearing?” my father raised his eyebrow, “You look like a bum,”

“Fine...” I grabbed my red hoodie from the banister, “That better?”

“Before you leave, go see your mother,”

I crawled up the stairs with my head hung low. To the first white door on the right with a gaping hole in the side panel. I stopped in the middle of the hallway, taking a deep breath, not knowing what to expect from her back then. Quietly pushing the entry open for my mother laid in her queen-sized bed. She turned to sneeze into a tissue, tossing the snot filled rag at me. I picked up her mess, throwing her pile that cluttered the floor near the wastebasket.

“You are grounded,” she coughed. 

“Why?” I rubbed my arm, “I didn’t”

“Just for that attitude. I am extending your grounding a month,”

“Can you please tell me what I did?”

“Your tardiness to school and grades,”

“The only reason….”

“Think before you say anything else.”

I stomped downstairs, slipping on these socks, and tying my black converse’s. Spitefully slamming the front door while leaving in the process shattered the glass pane. When darting across the lawn as the bus passed by, my father hunted me down. His face reddened, dragging me across to the driveway. For my red backpack flung from his hand to the grass, almost crushing my phone in the front pocket.

“What did I say about slamming the front door,” he squeezed my arm, “You know how much it will cost to replace that?”

“No idea,” I shrugged, “Not like I have any money to pay for it,”

“Just for that sass, you’re walking to school.”

I‌ wiped off my knapsack covered in grass, digging for my headphones and phone. Selecting the album All Alone by a grunge band called Quantum Singularity. God, I‌ forgot the awful taste of mine. My backpack held on this shoulder by a single strap, now taking a shortcut to school through an extensive field. That Red Oak tree, I nonchalantly passed hugging myself inside, while the journey continued. At the front doors of the school, my hand on a push bar, a locked door already? The bell just rung not even a minute ago. Old Mrs. Jackson with her scraggly body and white hair tied in a bun opened the door. Her nasally voice, all too familiar from the kids who mocked her.

“Alice, your late again,” she scowled, “These aren’t allowed on school property,” tearing my headphones off. 

“What the hell,” I screamed, “You pulled my hair out,” 

“Come with me to the office.”

Mrs. Jackson grabbed my arm, dragging me down the hall covered with blue lockers. We turned left; she led me into the primary office where Mrs. Jackson pointed to the bench. I plopped down on the metal seat, placing my backpack on the tiled floor. Silently staring at the principal’s engraved placard that read Dr. Hamilton. Mrs. Jackson knocked on the door before entering, with no one around; scrolling through my phone. A loud pounding on wired glass behind me, I turned. As my tormentors, three blonde triplets who opened the office door, one spoke.

“Alice, Let us play a game,” he smirked, “I will give you a 5 second head start,”

“What about…” I darted out the door, “Fuck… this...”

Whereas hastening through the hall, Mrs. Jackson yelled expletives behind me. I slammed the school door, charging down cement steps. These eyes darted as focusing on my surroundings only to trip into the grass field. How so fast? That I peered up at the Triplets who fists and shoes thrashed me several times. One of them smoked, blowing the noxious gas into this face. Then using me like an ash tray smashed their cigarette into my arm. 

“Fuck...” I yelped. 

“Gabriel, grab the rope,” He flicked his cigarette bud, “Thomas the rocks,”

“On it,” Gabriel grabbed his backpack, “I got the good ones,” 

“I spent last night picking the pointiest ones,” Thomas played with a rock, “Let’s move her to a better spot,”

This beating drained my energy, unable to fight as the two of them carted me off to somewhere secluded. The last straw of how brutal they became, only minuscule, to this point in my life. Gabriel tied me to a post, with these arms awkwardly extended behind my back. Each snagged a rock from a pile, aiming at my exposed skin. The propelling rocks fell opposite of me and quickly they gathered larger pieces of earth.

“Please stop,” I pleaded, “Why are you doing this,”

Their voices distorted and they threatened my existence with each throw. This bombardment stung these arms and legs, that left lacerations. One impacted my head; these ears rang as blood dripped down — an instant of darkness than an unbearable dizzying sensation. How these ropes loosened? beside myself, feeling every action and reaction. I‌ grasped onto the rope, walking unbalanced to a field of blossoms several feet away.

My extremities trembled as chills radiated down. I plummeted to the ground, yanking out daisies in clumps, and ravaged the field with my nails. But the tension intensified with an eerie silence, my eyes darting to a braided rope that laid in front. No… do not please, I cannot relive this moment…The triplets vanished their supplies left behind, the sack filled with rocks and this rope.

“Who would care?” I hung my head, “My parents? They don’t even...”

“Do it,” a voice taunted, “You are a waste of space,”

“That right I‌ am...”

I clasped the rope and grabbed the bag of rocks as tears flowed down my face. Grimly running my hand down the long rope that splintered. Methodically tying this thread into a noose, tightening; testing the loop on my neck. I marched up to that Red Oak branch, tossing the rope over, adjusting for my height. Though standing on the irregular-shaped bag, my neck in the hole, foolishly kicking them away. The noose held me up for a brief time before this branch snapped.

“Fuck…” I screamed upward, “Why won’t you let me die,”

I trudged out of the field, walking down a sidewalk. Many patrons gawked at this horrid state of mine. A screeching of tires and a loud slam of a car door. I turned around both of my parents scowling faces. They forced me into the vehicle as we drove off; my father spun the car around, doing an illegal U-turn. I rolled around in the back, hitting my injured head, blood smearing on the seat.

“You got blood all over,” my mother’s eyes squinted, “your father’s new car,”

“She did what?” my father slammed his brakes, “Mother fucker learn how to drive,” he honked his horn.

“School called your father on the way to work,” she slammed her fist, “Why did you run out?”

“I told you…” I rubbed my neck, “Many times before,”

“We aren’t going to talk about that nonsense,” My father screamed, “When we get home you are washing the blood off my seats,”

My mother stared at my neck, “You tried to kill yourself by the looks of that rope burn,” she shook her head, “You didn’t even do that right,”

This memory ended to where I stood near a set of stone stairs. Arachne hurried over, hugging me tightly for the first time. Who says that to their own child? Why this memory cut off here unbeknownst to me, but not to that beast. I pushed Arachne away, scratching this head violently. Fuck…. fuck…. this mess the monster made me relive.

“Where is she?” I‌ covered my face. “This... torture...” stuttering, then collapsed.

“I‌ am here,” she waved, “Glad you enjoyed the show,”

“Show? Why are you so twisted?”

“Come on, you can’t deny your other half.”

“I don’t understand.”

“And here I thought you were the genius.”

“What had been the point of me living through that?”

“Think why those bullies were never found.”

I replayed my memory as these images distorted; somehow, deteriorated. Like a child stomping on the ground, screaming at the top of these lungs. I leered at her for an answer, the idea of her giving in easily, unknown. Unable to understand the beast’s thought process; how she escaped and found those claws? What evidence she showed me turned into nothing. Arachne pulled me aside, side-eyeing her while talking.

“Don’t listen to her,”  she whispered. “She is just trying to manipulate you,”

“Why.” I pulled my hair, “Why!”

“The more unstable you become, the more power she gains.”

“Times up!” she came forward, “Let us play the memory again,”

“No,” I reached my hand out, “You can’t…”

My perspective changed, living through that memory over several times. Why comply to their game? Why so weak? Gaps in my recollections of the lost moments she escaped even back then.  Why, so early in the... those bullies conveniently showed up. All this evidence pointed to the truth — those conversations with my parents, attempted suicide. This connection there always ends up on her, always the monster’s fault.

“You...” I lunged forward, “I’ll kill you!”

“Looks like our little genius,” she grimaced, “Figured it out,”