HARPER: When you pray, what do you pray for?
JOE: I pray for God to crush me, break me up into little pieces and start all over again.
pre-into the spider-verse & its sequels
earth-42! miles morales / female oc
bugbIues, 2023
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iv. white rooms
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THE SPIDER COULDN'T remember when she became the Spider. All she remembered was the needles in her arms, the bugs crawling all over, and the hands that stained her thighs. She was cursed, doomed even. It is an endless cycle for which she is trapped in. Day in and day out is filled with nothing but dread and screams she did not even know she could scream anymore.
The Spider wasn't sure how old she was anymore. The cake came in randomly one day a year, pumped with steroids and other drugs she couldn't put a name to. She tasted insane amounts of metal in her spit. There were candles, but the Spider can not count yet. She has yet to earn that privilege.
The Spider knows she is not a person.
She is a mixture of blood, bones, and chemicals with no names. The Spider could feel her blood fizzle and pop in her veins.
The Spider hated the tests given to her. They burned her skin, adding to the many scars she had no recollection of ever getting in the first place.
The Spider knows that this is bad for her. She knows she isn't supposed to be struggling in this prison. She knows this isn't right, but she can't explain why.
The Spider knows that those technicians shouldn't touch her like that. It burns when they do. She is sore in places she had no idea you could be sore in after they leave her alone. She is unsure if all of this is apart of her many tests, but they ache and they burn. The Spider can feel something being ripped away from her, but she isn't sure what it is anymore.
They will come in and tell her what to do. The Spider has no choice but to listen anymore. There is an illusion of free will plastered on the halls of the lab she calls her home. She knows what home is from the books she has read. The books have little bugs on them. Spiders are not bugs though, one lab technician tells her on a school day. The Spider loves school days. She gets to color in the lines and learn shapes.
There are nine candles on the cake filled with steroids. She is nine in human years.
The Spider has been training to use her teeth. Her handlers (some people call them parents in her books, but her handlers are meaner than the parents in her books) say she has to be perfect to be presented to the board. The Spider is unsure what the board is, but she has been preparing for them her entire life.
