If the Bringer does not. Feed. It. It might eat. Me. I am scared. Very. 

Hungry. Too. The Bringer never brings. Enough. More. Like I need. More.

It is Flail's fault. If Flail didn't. I'd eat. More. 

The door opens. The Bringer enters. 

With no. No food! For me! I cry. Painful. All is painful.

Hunrgy. Burning. Weak.

The Bringer should die. It brings only pain. I hate the Bringer. I hate it so much. I wish to eat it. Flail doesn't steal. The Bringer takes. Flail is better! I hate both! I hate Flail! Less!

The Bringer grabs Flail. Stares. Flail looks weak. Very weak. It lets out breathing. Broken. Wheezy. 

"Poor thing." The Bringer says.

It licks one of the five limbs. On its paw. Rubs dried blood. Off. Off Flail. Flail's face.

"Let's get those broken ribs fixed. Must've been so nasty to be hit so hard." It says.

It stands. Holding Flail. Flail looks at me. Not so scared. Gentle. Slow. It has Flail by the neck. Back. Of the neck. It drags. Limp. It hits Flail's feet. Against the door.

The door shuts. I launch. To the hole. On the door. I watch. Flail seems dead. Isn't. But seems.

Flail sees me. Just looks. Not...scared. Good. It shouldn't be. I should. 

"Oh hello little one! Get back in there like a good itty-bitty thing." The Bringer says.

It flicks me.

I slam. Into the ground.

Painful. Much pain. So. I hate the Bringer. So tired.

I get back. Home. To rest. No more pain. Impossible. Always in pain. It all hurts. I cry. Burning. Burns so bad. I cry more. Oh just more. I cry like Flail. Much and all. I cry. Just cry.

I shut my eyes. I hear. Curdling. Screaming. It is Flail. I can tell. It is loudest. Screaming. This one. 

It isn't screaming. Words. Only sounds. I don't. I shouldn't feel. I don't. But I do. I don't like. Flail's pain. It's not fair. The Bringer is unfair. 

I'll rest. A little. Just. A little.

.

.

.

.

.

The door. Opens. The Bringer enters. With Flail. I adjust. 

It sets Flail. Down. Flail is wet. Very wet. With different. Webbing? Shell? The thin. Things. Over it. Are different. It was dirty. It has thick webbing. Over bloody. Spots. Wounds.

The Bringer turns. To me.

"One day, they'll all be like you. Perfect like you." It says.

It has. None. No food. I don't care.

"As for you, I'll be back to feed you. I'll put you on a proper diet. Something your species should actually eat." It says. 

It pets. Flail. On the head. Flail doesn't move. It looks dead. But it breathes.

The Bringer pulls. Away. Looking back. To me.

"I hope you don't mind having a roommate. But, since you're such a little thing I didn't think it'd be too bad. This place is like a whole world to you isn't it. Hm?" It asks.

It steps. Close. To close.

I show. Defense. Flail is watching. Weakly.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare my wittle bug." It says.

It walks. To the door. Out.

It shuts.

It is silent.

That is. Nice. No screaming. No crying. Silence. Good. Flail is less annoying. No scared. Nothing. 

"You don't like him either huh?" It says, looking at me. Hoarse. Its voice. 

It drags. Up. The wall. To look better. At me.

"I-I can't help but notice...you..." It stops.

Just staring. 

"I'm sorry. For screaming so much. You're just...just so jarring I!" It stops again.

"I'm an entomologist I work with all sorts of bugs and insects. But when it comes to arachnids! I just, bit of a phobe!" It says.

Smiling. At me. Holding. Its abdomen. 

"What am I saying? I mean you're not even!" It pauses. 

It scoots. Away.

"I like spiders. A lot. I'm mainly scared of scorpions, you know. Their stomachs just give me the creeps." It says.

It doesn't look. At me. It's fidgeting. With its paws. The five limbed ones.

"How long have you been here?" It asks. 

Looking. At me. Again.

Waiting. For something. 

"Or were you like...made here?" It asks.

I shift. Just slight. It flinches.

I hate it. Flail. I still hate Flail. Pretending. Not to. Fear. I should. I'm the one. To fear. Not fair.

"I'm sorry! I know! You're just there! I just! I'm warming up to you! Being stuck in here together. Can you blame me for the situation?! It's very weird!" It says.

It curls. Still looking. 

Not scared.

It was startled. Doesn't matter. It has no right. No right. To be. Startled. Or scared. Only I do. It is bigger. I am. In danger. Not it. I have done. Nothing. To it.

"He keeps talking about you being perfect or whatever. What does that mean? Do you know?" It asks.

Waiting again. And staring.

It is. Going insane.

I shouldn't know that. But I do. Like. A lot. Of things.

"Of course not. No yeah, yeah that makes sense." It says.

Grabbing. Its head. Hair.

"You know. I was supposed to pick my little girl up. I was on my way to my sister's. They were having a girls day while I was working." It says.

Leaned. Its head. Against the wall. Looking at nothing. 

"They got their nails done, pretty hair cuts and hair do's. They even got the cutest little matching outfits and one for me too. I was so, excited to see them." It says.

Tears. Here we go. More crying. Not yet. But soon. I know it. Wet eyes.

"I stopped off for a second. I just. I saw these little bags that'd match the outfits in this little store. I had drove past the store about a million times! I thought it was such a lucky find! Something you never think of turns out to be the best thing." It pauses.

"I thought it would be such an adorable surprise." It says.

"Last thing I remember was getting back in my car and giggling about how my little girl's purse was so much smaller than mine. To fit her arm. It was so cute!" It...she says...

"It could barely fit my phone! I was so distracted I didn't notice him running up! Then when the glass broke I just...I can't believe...I just wanted to stop and admire the little bag. If I had drove, if I had just drove." She whimpers, gripping her legs.

I remember. Being caught. The bright light. The Bringer's smell. The pain. I remember...

I don't. Think. I hate Flail. As much. I. Strongly dislike. Yes. I strongly dislike. Flail.

"I'm sorry. I must be so annoying. All he's done is beat and kidnap me. I mean he also did surgery on me awake but I passed out so...at least he fixed me." She says. 

Looking at me. Weirdly. Not scared. It is. Strange. Her face. While. She looks. Changes. Slowly. 

"Oh god. Oh gods he does. Oh he!" She covers her mouth.

Staring. Terrified. But not...of me. Scared. 

She slides. Up. The wall. Still covered. Still staring.

"He keeps talking about a rabbit!" She cries.

She begins. Crying. Like I knew. She would. Cry.

No silence. Never again. No more. I'll deal. With crying. Forever.

The door. It opens. 

Flail screams. The Bringer enters.

"Shut uuuup!" It says.

Holding food. For Flail. None. For me. I hate it. I hate the Bringer. I'm starving. Starving. I need. I need.

"Stay away from me you freak!" She screams.

Hugging. The wall.

"I'm not the one pretending be something I'm not." It says. 

It holds up. A...something. 

"A funnel?! Are you gonna force feed me?! Is that a turkey baister?! You stay the fuck away from me!" She shouts.

"I'm not making rabbit stew cool your jets. Or tail heheh. I got to make sure you eat! Since you've been so inclined not to. To think I made mashed potatoes and mushed veggies just for you to not eat it." It says.

She looks. Quick. At me.

She runs.

Scared!

I raise! In defense! Right beside me! Scared! Scared!

"Stop it! You're scaring it!" It cries. 

Dropping. Everything. 

"Yeah! I-I am! And guess what! Rabbits eat spiders all the time!" She says.

Oh! I knew! I knew! Flail! Dangerous! Going to! Die!

I'm helpless! I cry! It burns! I'm so scared! So scared!

"No they don't! Rabbits don't eat spiders! Stop it! Stop! You're really scaring it!" It cries.

"If you don't get out! I'll eat it! Cause rabbits eat nearly everything! Even when they're not supposed to!" She shouts.

"Okay! Okay! Okay! Don't eat my perfect one! Don't do it! Don't! Not perfect little bug!" The Bringer cries. 

It runs. Out. Slamming. The door. Crying. 

Flail. Quickly. Gets away. From me.

"I didn't think that'd work. He really thinks I'm a rabbit doesn't he? How could someone be like that when they don't even know spiders aren't bugs." She says.

Still close. Not. Hurting. I burn. Because of. Flail.

But. Not dead. Not eaten. Just crying. I'm fine. Flail is fine. I dislike Flail.

She pulls. The food. On the thing. Over to her. She eats. 

She pauses. She looks. At me.

She scoops. A clump. Of food. She turns. Offering. To me.

"We can share. I mean, it's gotta be better than centipedes and beetles. I mean peruvian yellow feet centipedes are big, and I'm not even sure how he got so many, but. I bet they don't taste very good. Especially with all that, venom." She says.

Her paw. So close. Nothing happening. 

She takes. The weird. Thing. She fills it. Slightly. She slides. The food. On the flat. Thing. To me. Keeping. The other thing. Giving me. The rest.

I am hungry. 

Can I eat?

This? Eat?

Can I?

I didn't...I've never...tried. 

I bite. Like the wriggly. Things. It is. Crushed. Smashed. Already. I try. To drink.

It doesn't. Work. What I have. In. It..it.is good. Warm. Better...better.

"H-here. Let me." She says.

She scoots. Closer. She takes. The weird. Thing. The longer. One. She takes off. The ball. And stuffs it. She puts. The ball. Back on.

She's hesitant. 

She waits.

"Please don't bite me." She says.

She shakes. She puts. The thing. In my mouth. I flinch. She squeezes. 

Taste...food. So soft. Good. More. Enough. A lot. More.

I try. To drink. Again. It works. Better. Full. A lot. Very. Full. Never. I haven't. Been. Full. It hurts. My. It hurts. To be. Full.

"There you go. Isn't that good? For what it is it's good." She says.

Not scared.

I like Flail.

I like Flail.

I hurt. But I always. Hurt. I am full. I hurt. But I am full. Finally full. Full.

She adds more. Offering. Again.

I open. My mouth. She squeezes. More. Too much. I drop some. Too much. I have. Enough. Enough. I swallow. I am full. Enough. 

"Must be nice to eat real food for a change." She says.

"Mheah." Breaks out my mouth.

"You can talk! I didn't, I didn't think you could talk!" She says.

I cry. I shouldn't talk. I can't talk. I shouldn't. Be able to. I shouldn't talk. I shouldn't eat. Anything but. Wriggly things. I shouldn't talk. I shouldn't. I can't. 

"I was nervous you couldn't understand me. It's good to know you do. It's good to know." She says.

She pulls. Away. To let me. Have my room. My space. She stares. Eating. Just watching.