mona lisa , chris sturniolo

31 | aux privileges

♫  poster boy / lyn lapid  ♫
☆
i gotta confess
with you i don't see an end
cause you'll be the death of me
it's you and i
i see my life in your eyes
yeah, i think that i love you

🍊 🍊 🍊

| real life |

real life

When I wake up, I can't help the terrified whimper that escapes my sleep-hazed brain. But it's the five seconds before I become conscious that are critical to this moment.

In my sleep, I must have felt a tickling on my arm; I can still feel it even now after the source has been removed. In my unconscious state, my left hand reached to dispose of the source of irritation.

When I begin to gain consciousness, I am immediately aware of two things: first, the strange, lingering tickling sensation on the skin of my right forearm, and second, the way my left hand is slightly raised, something crushed between my thumb and forefinger. My brain quickly comes to the conclusion that it's a bug, and my immediate reaction is to wonder if it's a bed bug, but it feels slightly too big for that.

Warning sirens suddenly go off in my head, my brain screaming at me to move, to get out of my bed and drop whatever is in my hand on my bedside table so I can see it. I oblige, my heart racing as I fly to the edge of my bed in a mad dash through tangled blankets, dropping whatever is in my hand, and yanking my phone off the charger to turn on the flashlight. And a terrified wail immediately escapes my lips. Because sitting in front of me, its legs twitching slightly in a half-dead state, is a spider that's about the size of my fingernail.

"What the fuck," I whimper, reaching to grab a tissue from the nearby box and quickly squishing the already half-crushed spider. Half-dead because I squished it in my hand.

I shriek quietly, horror seeping into every inch of my body. I do not like spiders, and the thought of one crawling on me in my sleep makes me want to run far, far away from this bedroom.

After I scan my walls, ceiling, and bed to determine them to be spider-free, I sprint out of my room with the tissue to go flush it down the toilet. After scrubbing my hands, still groaning in trepidation, I bypass returning to my bedroom and duck into Chris' pitch black room. There is absolutely no way in hell that I am sleeping in my bed tonight after being violated by stupid Mr. Spider.

Despite the shift between Chris and I, I have refused to budge on the no sharing a bed rule. Chris has spent a significant amount of time arguing with me over it considering we end up together a few nights a week anyway after I flee to his room after a nightmare, or he crawls into my bed in the middle of the night while I am sleeping, but I haven't been willing to change the rule. Retracting the boundary makes this all feel real, and I'm not ready to face my fear quite yet. So returning to his room in the middle of the night feels mildly defeating, but there is no way I can handle being in my room right now.

Moving quietly through Chris' room, I use my flashlight to carry out a spider check. I deem the walls, ceiling, and floor to be clear, so I move onto Chris' bed, not bothering to be careful to not shine my light in his eyes.

A low groan escapes his lips when my light passes over his face. His eyes blink open, squinting at me. "The fuck are you doing?"

"There was a spider in my room and it violated me. I can't sleep in there." I continue to examine his bed for spiders. "I'm checking for critters."

Chris doesn't say anything, just stares at me tiredly while I execute my examination. Once I deem his bed clear, I turn off my flashlight and drop my phone on his bedside table. I crawl onto his bed, pulling the duvet over myself and blindly scooting forward until I find Chris in the dark.