A Web and a Wound

Danae picked wild berries into her basket and used the monotonous work to clear her mind of the sick dread that perpetually clung to her. She wanted to be alone, to get away from her older cousin, Preston. What he did to her at night made her sick and she held deep resentment for him. When her father died a year ago, she was sent to live with her Aunt Ivy and Preston. She thought things would get better after her father died, but she had only traded one hell for another.

Preston was nineteen, three years older than her and a lot stronger. Not as strong as daddy, but strong enough to let her know resistance was futile.

After a few minutes of peaceful gathering, she heard the snap of a twig. She jumped in surprise.

“Dan-dan! What’re you doing?” Preston asked in a singsong voice as he came into view. He tried to corner her, but Danae dropped her basket and practically dove into the bushes. She wasn’t curious to find out what he wanted. Thorns and branches tore her clothes and skin, but she hoped it would discourage Preston from following her. She made it through the dense foliage and dashed into the forest. He must have known she would be alone at the berry thicket. It was miles from their cabin and out of earshot from any living soul.

She heard him pull free from the bushes as she ran and stumbled through the maze of trees and undergrowth. Memories of the dreaded nights rushed through her mind; abuse she had grown both fed up and numb to. It was stupid to think she would be safe out here, probably out of a naïve notion that vampires slept during the day. Day was supposed to be safe.

Last week, she had gotten the courage to tell her Aunt Ivy, but her aunt flat out refused to believe her. Preston, of course, denied any wrongdoing, and her aunt only thought the orphan tramp was jealous of her perfect son. And with that, all options for help evaporated.

There was no real authority to go to, not in the Appalachia’s anyway, not after the United States collapsed a few decades ago. There was a township about ten miles down the road, but they had their own problems. No one would listen to Danae’s sob story, especially not some nobody orphan. This, coupled with the fact that any man in charge would likely violate her. Orphan girls often became prostitutes to survive, and this was regarded as “just the way things were”.

She longed to move out west, where they supposedly still had civilization akin to old America. They said the Mormons kept Utah chugging along like the collapse never happened, but to journey that far was a fantasy at best.

Her heart pounded in her ears as she ran with no direction in mind. She only wanted away. After she accused Preston, he had left her alone, but she knew he was angry for tattling on him. She eventually spotted an old rotting cabin through the trees and headed towards it.

Up close, she saw the roof had collapsed in on itself many years ago. She ran up the brittle front steps and went inside the broken doorway to see if she could find a hiding spot. Nature had reclaimed the abandoned shack, with moss and vines everywhere.

She took too long to find a place to hide and heard her cousin close in. She ran again and vaulted through a window on the far side of the cabin to escape. An old piece of glass on the window frame cut her left palm, which caused her to stumble to her knees when she landed. The wound burned, but she gritted her teeth, balled her hand in a fist, and kept running. She was exhausted but didn’t dare stop.

There was a loud crash from the cabin, the snap of splintering wood, and an agonized scream. Danae slowed down before she turned back, expecting a trick. No one followed her out of the cabin. Instead, she heard muffled sobs of pain.

“Dan! Dan-dan! I’m sorry!” Preston yelled at the top of his lungs. By the volume, she guessed he assumed she had gotten further than she had. “Dan! Help!” He repeated.

Danae warily walked back to the cabin, breathing heavily. Her left hand dripped. Burned and dripped. She pressed it to her stomach, staining her oversized green button-up shirt. She crouch-walked to approach the cabin and slowly rose to peek inside the window. She made an involuntary gasp when she saw what had happened to Preston.

Preston’s right leg had gone through the brittle floor and a large splinter had pierced his thigh. He was in an awkward position, leaned back with his left leg straight out, and his other skewered and inside the floor. He was scratched up from following her through the bushes and looked miserable.

He heard her gasp and looked up to see her. “Dan! You’ve got to get help! Go get mom!” He pleaded.

Danae walked around the structure to go through the broken front door again, careful of where she stepped. Although Preston was about fifty pounds heavier, she didn't want to risk falling through the floor herself. She got close to him, leaned over to look at the wound, but was sure to stay out of his reach.

“You can’t move.” Danae said. This realization filled her eyes with tears. It was over. Even if he survived, he would still be left disabled. Relief twinged with guilt flooded her.

“No shit.” Preston said.

“No, I mean if you move, you’ll probably bleed out. There’s a big vein in your leg. Or, no- not “vein”, what was the other one?”

“You’ve got to get my mom; she can get the doctor.”

Danae stood up straight and began to search the dark nooks and crannies of the cabin. “Aye- or arr-something? Aorta? No, that’s not right…” Dan mused to herself. She had the word on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t think of what it was. She could read and write but hadn’t had a formal education. She picked up what she could from whatever books she could get her hands on. She last heard the word from the local mortician about a year ago.

“Well, what the hell do you suggest?” Preston yelled. She could see he was scared. It gave her sick enjoyment.

Danae found what she was looking for and used a nearby twig to pick it up out of its hiding place. “Me? Oh, I’m not going to be any help.” She held the black widow up to her eyeline to watch the small creature crawl up its web towards the stick.

“Dan? What is that?” Preston asked.

Danae rotated the twig as she crept towards Preston, careful to keep the little spider climbing ever upwards away from her hand.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you. You’ve got to understand, you’re so beautiful and it’s so lonely up here, I couldn't help it.” Preston defended himself.

She almost reconsidered. Not out of sympathy towards him, but because she didn’t want to be cruel. Many women were violated, but they didn’t torture their attackers in return.

“I love you, Dan-dan. I love you.” He said.

On the other hand, this was probably mostly because those women never got the opportunity. His sincerity enraged her, and she tossed the stick with the spider onto him. He panicked and flailed around, which moved his leg around the splinter. He screamed in pain and confusion as blood pooled up from the splinter head. She didn’t know if the spider had done anything until she saw the two small puncture marks on his right forearm. She didn’t see where the spider had gone, but she figured, “out of sight, out of mind.”

“Goddamn it, did it bite me?” Preston searched his exposed skin until he saw the two swelling pinpricks. “What was that!?”

Danae didn’t answer. She cleared herself a space on the floor, sat down, and leaned her back against the wall. Her scrapes and cuts stung and she was tired.

“Dan, you really need to get help now. Quit fucking around.” Preston commanded. She gave him a blank look, and he screamed at her. He became paler by the minute, and she could see him sweat. He pleaded, begged, bargained, and demanded her to do something until he was horse.

When he was finally quiet, Danae spoke. “Preston, I hate you. They say that love and hate are two sides of the same coin or some nonsense, but I think I just hate you. You’re going to die, and now I’m happy.” An enticing dark sickness bubbled inside her. She knew she wasn’t supposed to enjoy this, to admit to herself she enjoyed the sadism, but it’s what she felt. “You can’t control feelings”, that’s what Mama used to say, God rest her soul.

What she should be doing, even now, was everything in her power to help. She should try to tourniquet the leg, get him water, or do anything. It was about a half hour jog back to the cabin, where Aunt Ivy might have something to help with the spider bite, at least until a doctor could arrive.

But she sat there. This was both simpler and harder. Simple to do nothing, but hard to resist the urge to help someone in need, even if it was her abuser.

Over time, Preston’s arm swelled, and his abs contracted, which made his uncomfortable position worse. “You’re… a sick… bitch.” Preston managed through labored breathing. He looked like he was about to vomit.

“You raped your cousin.” Danae countered dryly.

“You liked it.” Preston said. She didn’t know if he said it to hurt her or reassure himself.

Danae stood without a word and walked towards him. He apologized and begged her to stop, but she brought her foot down on his wounded thigh as hard as she could.

Screams of agony followed. The floor creaked and groaned beneath him but surprisingly didn’t cave. Danae had to wait for him to be quiet enough to hear her.

“You liked it.” She smirked.

“I’ll- kill you!” He used the last of his strength to shakily pick himself out of the floor, stand, and tried to rush her. The poison and blood loss made him pitifully slow, and she simply kicked his thigh when he came close enough. He collapsed forward onto his face, crying in pain.

“There’s- something wrong with you…” Preston managed to breathe. “I’ll bet- bet-” His voice muffled against the floor.

“You’ll bet what?” Danae asked, leaning forward to hear better.

“-you …killed your dad.” Preston tried to roll onto his side but didn’t have strength.

Danae was caught off guard by the accusation. And not because it was entirely untrue. She didn’t want to tell him pieces of herself she wanted to protect, even though it didn’t matter anymore. But it wasn’t like she couldn’t confess, he was a goner.

“No.” Danae finally said. She swallowed down a lump in her throat and stood up straight to look down on him. “I just didn’t get help.”

Danae didn’t know if he heard her. It was quiet now. Birds sang, the cabin creaked, and leaves rustled in the wind. The black widow reappeared and crawled onto his motionless leg.

“Artery.” She muttered to herself without feeling. She finally remembered the elusive word.

As he bled out, she felt a twinge of déjà vu.