Saints

Prologue

0. prologue

THE THIN PAPER-like pages of the Bible was the only book she had on hand. Her fingers traced the words of Christ, wishing there were sermons for people who had long since given up on speaking to Him. Her nimble fingers danced along the words. The letters danced around her head, like a fog she could only read in her imagination.

God had forsaken her years ago. Sitting in an apartment only bestowed upon her by a friend, The Spider could only imagine what it was like to be normal. To have God as a shoulder to lean on, His words of comfort the only lullaby she longed to have whispered in her ear.

In the dimly lit area of her bedroom, she could make out the faint outline of her bookshelf. Instead of books, children's' playthings cluttered the shelves. Dozens of dolls and small animals with fun colors stared back at her, condemning her behavior. She was sixteen trapped in the room of the child she never was.

Was this her own Purgatory? Was she fated to spend forever without reaching her Heaven? A cruel and unusual fate for a cruel and unusual girl.

The Spider lay on the mattress of her bed, staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. Hundreds of posters from musicians she'd never heard of until four years ago littered her walls. Receipts and book clippings clung to her walls weakly stuck there with pieces of tape.

The bible rested on her stomach and she cradled it, like mother's would hold their babies in films. The Spider had never been held as a baby, so her account was solely based on films she watched with Donny. She couldn't think of a time where someone had held her before.

One thing about the Spider that she knew confirmed God had forsaken her was her abilities. The powers of a spider. In media she'd consumed since leaving the lab, the Spider knew that spiders were depicted as demonic and evil creatures. Did that make her demonic?

She didn't recall when she stood up, but the Spider found herself staring into the mirror. Her hand rested on her cheek, running a scarred hand on her face. The sharp teeth that pricked out of her lips when she yawned, her gray eyes staring back at her, and her haunted expression made her feel like maybe she was a demon.

The Spider tried to do good. Though, it was a mostly an attempt to beat the thoughts from her brain. or the last two years, she was Brooklyn's personal vigilante, Archnae. In Greek Mythology, Archnae was cursed by the goddess Athena to forever spin her silk and her offspring were known as Arachnids. The Spider was one of her offspring, with her webs and her poison in her teeth. No extra limbs, she often checked every morning. It was many of the symptoms the lab checked every morning.

Running her finger along the image of herself in the mirror, the Spider couldn't help but wince. This is who people saw when she walks down the side walk. A girl with demonic teeth and scars that run thicker than water.

She couldn't escape the horrors tied to her name. To the experiments that were used on innocent prisoners, to the screams she heard escape her own lips as she begged for anyone to make it stop. Where was her heroes? Where was the God her parents preached so much about?

Had He forgotten about her?

Had she done something for Him to leave her for dead?

The Spider would wait for an answer, by the cross over her bed. She's been waiting for four years now. One day, He will answer to one of her prayers.

One day, someone will care for her the way God was supposed to. The way the bible swore He would.

The Spider laid back down, the holy words beside her head. She turned on her side. She found herself resting her hand on the leather cover of the gospel. She allowed eyes to close, entering the hellish land of her dreams.