Smile

Fiend

"You're home." My husband stares at me like he's looking at a ghost.

I give the quesadilla in the frying pan a flip. "Yep. I am. I have the next few days off."

"Oh."

Is that all he can say? Oh?

"I made us dinner," I say. "I thought maybe after we eat, we could...you know."

"Uh...we'll see. I'm kind of tired."

I narrow my eyes and fight back a wave of anger. He's always turning me down. He never wants to have sex with me. Sometimes I wonder if he has a porn addiction or something. There's no reason for him to not want to fuck me. I look great for my age. My ass is fat and my waist slim. He doesn't look all that great himself, but that's fine. I'm turned on by ugly guys. I know that's weird as hell, but hear me out: It's hot to be the more attractive one. And I've always loved feeling like a slim, petite little female in the hands of a big flabby fat guy. You feel like some sexy little damsel getting I've dated fat guys since I was a teenager. I like knowing that the guy's grateful to be with me. Except...maybe it backfired on me. My fat husband hasn't fucked me in months. And in the last three years, he's fucked me maybe five times.

"We could hang out and watch a movie," he offers. "The Purge?"

He can tell I'm pissed. Otherwise, he wouldn't be offering to watch a Purge movie with me. He hates that franchise. I think about pasting on a smile and pretending everything is okay. I consider it. But I don't.

I turn to him with a glower. "Forget it." I shut off the stove and slam my spatula into the sink.

"Ah, Claudy, stop." He moves to block the doorway and extends his arms to pull me into a hug.

"Don't," I snap. "Why are we together?"

He blinks at me. The corners of his eyes crease. He's always had the most gorgeous brown eyes. I remember losing myself in them on our first date. I remember how he held my hand and sent butterflies fluttering through me.

That's all over now. It will never be like that again.

"I don't want you to touch me," I mutter. "Let me pass."

He frowns, a furrow in his brow.

What is he so worried about? What's his damage? He's the one ruining our relationship. He's the one who won't have sex with me.

"Tom, just move," I sigh. "I want to be alone."

He stands there for another moment, but then he does move. As I'm stepping past him, he asks, "What about your dinner?"

"I'm not hungry."

I step into the bathroom and shut the door. My head is pulsating. It's suddenly so hot. The air is too tight. Too thick. I stumble and grab onto the sink. And then I'm retching, hot stomach acid splattering into the blue ceramic of the sink. I heave again and again.

Tom's banging on the door. "Claudy! You okay?"

"Go..." I can't get the rest out. I'm heaving and bucking and the blue ceramic is streaked with yellow bile.

"Claudy!"

The spell ends finally. I retch out the remainder of the frothy, yellow liquid. Then I rinse my mouth and open the door.

Tom's standing there with wide eyes. "Claudy, you okay? Here, let me help."

I'm still angry with him. So angry. Yet, I allow him to fold me into his arms. He places a hand on my forehead.

"You're burning up. Way too hot. Come on." He guides me into the bedroom and helps me into bed. "I love you, Claudy," he murmurs. "Lay down. I'll get you some water."

He leaves and I curl up under the blankets.

Something prickles at me. Something...it's almost like there's a pattern to the day's events. Up, down, up, down.

A searing heat flashes over my neck and I gasp, pulling the butterfly necklace away from my skin. I glance down and scream. Terror races through me.

It's not a butterfly. It's a fly. A massive fly at least fifty times bigger than a normal housefly.

And it's alive.

Its tiny wings flick up and down. It looks at me with enormous red eyes. It buzzes.

Shrieking, I scramble with the clasp. I need it away from my skin. Its grubby feet rub together like the plotting hands of a little fiend. I need it off.

The clasp won't give. I try to rip it up over my head and scream as the disgusting fat fly is lifted up to just in front of my face. Its fuzzy belly brushes my cheek and I spit and tug.

I need it off! I need it off!

The door bangs open and Tom rushes over to me. "Claud, what are you doing?"

"The necklace! It's alive!" I grasp at the chain and hold the wriggling fly out in front of me. Three tiny white flecks fall from it. I look down to my collarbone in horror. Maggots. I scream and swat at them. Before I can reach them, they're vanishing. Into my skin. They wriggle into me.

"Claudy! It's just a necklace! Claudy! Look at me!"

He doesn't see it. I gape at him in horrified realization.

Holding me by the shoulders, he looks at me with brown eyes swimming with concern. He takes the fly in his hands. More maggots drop from it and I moan as they hit my skin.

"It's only a necklace," Tom says. He thrusts it into my face and I retch. "It's only a little plastic butterfly."

He can't see it. Only I can.

I shake. Tom holds me. And the maggots wriggle into my body.

I can feel them inside of me, swimming through skin.