Spider's web

Chapter 1 – Last Summer

“Oh, sweet Liberty Bell!” the class clown yelled.

The room dissolved into pure chaos. Chairs were scraping, voices rising as the students hurriedly packed their things.

“No running in the hallway!” Mr. Volt barked.

But he was completely ignored, as usual.

His smile, however, held nothing but pride. The students could barely contain their impatience to escape for their final summer vacation. Every single one had passed his class.

“Ah… what I wouldn’t give to be young again,” Mr. Volt murmured to himself as he sorted through the stack of papers.

The air was thick, hot, and sultry; the sun hammered relentlessly on his bald head until a merciful shadow fell across it, blotting out the rays. The shadow drifted curiously from one window to the next, then slipped away, unleashing the glare once more.

After a short, blinding glimpse, he could make out Natalie’s features. She was staring out, eyes fixated. Her left hand rested against the glass, her forehead lightly pressed to it. Two streaks of sweat trickled down, cutting clean paths through the dusty film that had accumulated over the past school year.

“May I help you with your search, Ms. Abber?” Mr. Volt asked politely.

Natalie remained lost in her gaze but registered his words. It was still strange to her to be called “Miss” since she had graduated from middle school.

“No.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead and turned.

“It’s something that doesn’t want to be found,” Natalie answered nonchalantly while passing the teacher’s desk.

*Odd thing to say,* Mr. Volt thought, *but not the oddest I’ve heard lately.*

“Still sticking to skimpy answers,” Mr. Volt remarked as a book slipped through his fingers. He tried to catch it immediately but fumbled and folded forward a couple of times.

Before he could recover and finish his next sentence, Natalie had already left the classroom and closed the door behind her.

Disappointed but curious, Mr. Volt peeked out the window onto the schoolyard. A small group of three goth seniors had just passed through the gate.

*These kids dress like the night while they walk in daylight,* was Mr. Volt’s way of saying that black clothes were not optimal wear for summer.

The halls had a peaceful emptiness to them. Only minutes had passed, but the school was already empty of students. Instead, several teachers were leaving their classrooms and joining Natalie’s path toward the exit.

She avoided eye contact and conversation at all cost. Upon opening the 'prison' gate, she felt a wave of relief and accomplishment.

*One more year until true freedom.*

The sun was heavy. She had to cover her view with her left hand. Through the slip of two fingers Natalie could make out Jeremy's figure waiting at the parking lot. Jeremy's tight shirt highlighted his well-built upper body. His legs however; neglected.

*Like a buff chicken* Natalie grinned as she approached him. *That is happens when you skip leg day* she continued thinking to herself before embracing him.

They had been a couple for the past two years and stolen the show at their local's entertainment center. Jeremy, a natural stunner combined with the polish from his parents’ dance school, had become somewhat of a star at school.

Most girls were head over heels, yet Natalie was the one who had won his heart.

A feeling that was usually mutual—at least on the outside.

*Something’s wrong. Something’s missing.* The blandness had grown over the past ten months. Natalie couldn’t put her finger on it. She was happy, right?

They still hugged longingly; they hadn’t seen each other for at least five hours that day. The safety of his arms and the comfort of his gentle touch made her giggle and smile, right?

Jeremy pressed further with a kiss.

Lips pressing, tongues twirling, an exchange of saliva—passionate to any outsider.

But inside, her feelings were as empty as the hallways she had just walked.

A fading sensation—the feeling of a thumb and index finger snuffing out the flame of a candle. The streak of steam formed figures of Jeremy and Natalie dancing at the upcoming prom night, yet the candle remained cold.

When they released their embrace, he didn’t notice her smile vanish. The sun punished their lovely standoff with an exhausting glare.

Swiftly, he offered to take her backpack, which she obliged, tossing it into the backseat—wishing he could do the same to her right there and now— and walked around to the driver’s seat.

Meanwhile, Natalie was absent, distracted by something that lit the candle anew.

Long, jet-black hair waved through the driver’s window of another car; equally dark-painted nails tapped on the steering wheel; dark lips formed words she couldn’t hear as the Miataaa—“Ayeee, Nat! You gonna take a seat or not?” Jeremy asked impatiently while Samantha’s car left the parking lot.

“I’d love to take a seat,” Natalie replied, ignoring him.

“Then what the fuck are you waiting for?!” he snapped.

She snapped out of her trance and joined him with a vague smile. This time Jeremy noticed that Natalie wasn’t fully there.

“Better?” he asked, huffing, as he rolled down the passenger window. “Heat’s killing me,” he continued, puffing.

“Mhm,” she replied, half-satisfied.

Natalie rested her head on her arms while peeking out the passenger window.

Jeremy caressed the left thigh of his passenger princess as they drove off in his old Chevrolet.

Songs on the radio and the sounds of passing cars were muffled by her inner voice.

*Something’s wrong. Something’s missing,* her consciousness whispered as she enjoyed the breeze on her forehead. *But what is it?* She closed her eyes to indulge in that question.

When she opened them, staring out her bedroom window, the same question still remained unanswered. Only hints that lay beyond the horizon of the sinking sun.

Distractions over the next couple of days couldn’t shake off that feeling.

Earpods in, sets and gains.

Nine months ago she had signed up for a gym membership, and it had given her some momentary fulfillment, but nothing to truly close that hole.

A slightly overweight girl stood in front of the bench press, not doing any exercise.

“Need a spotter?” Natalie asked politely.

The girl nodded shyly.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” Natalie continued as the girl took position.

The girl shook her head.

“Wanna lose some weight?”

The girl shook her head again. Natalie raised an eyebrow.

“Friends,” was the first word the girl muttered.

Natalie understood the assignment and assumed the girl might not be very social and just wanted to work on herself.

She had never bothered much with other people—she was always in the spotlight, gifted with friends and healthy relationships.

Only now did she realize her communication skills were actually lacking when it came to motivating someone else.

“Just remember who you’re doing this for,” she began. “Looks don’t matter,” she continued, placing the bar in the girl’s hands. “It’s about control. The process refines your body but the true growth starts within you.”

To Natalie, it was none of the girl’s concern that she had stolen the quote from a movie. Only the result mattered, right?

More confident now, the girl gripped the bar with her fingers. Her gaze drifted to the weights.

“No weights—we start with just the bar. The bar(e) minimum.” Natalie cringed the moment she realized how awkward the wordplay sounded.

Contrary to her expectation, the girl giggled.

“C’mon, it wasn’t *that* funny,” she tried to excuse her own joke.

The girl shook her head. Her expression was more open, more trusting.

“You’re just so pretty,” the girl stated confidently.

Natalie was stunned.

“Shut up or I drop it,” Natalie countered.

The girl's eyed widened.

“Thank you,” Natalie admitted a couple of seconds later, slightly flustered.

Both laughed and started the workout.

Over the coming weeks, Natalie saw the girl less and less. Had the words not reached her? Was something else bothering her? When she stopped showing up completely, Natalie turned her focus back to her own training.

That single interaction, however, taught Natalie more about herself than any conversation with her friends or date with Jeremy she ever had.

Nothing could fulfill that desire as long as she kept the topic superficial with them. It was almost comical how she couldn’t follow her own advice; fearing her friends would abandon her, ending up lonely just like that girl.

*Hypocrite* Natalie cursed to herself.

She needed distraction and scrolled through Instagram. Thats when she found Samantha’s page. What once was a mere flicker; was a glowing ember now.

The more she scrolled the more the wax began to melt, drip, and scorch Natalie’s fingertips.

Days and weeks blurred together. She didn’t keep track of dates or time, only aware of a truth she wanted to chase and an answer she was scared to discover.

Every day she stood in front of her bathroom mirror—her only constant—brushing her long blonde hair aside as it so often got caught when she fastened her black choker. *Click.*

It was a gift she had received for her nineteenth birthday last week, along with other accessories. She tried out different combinations. *Click.*

Natalie wanted to style herself like Samantha. Was it envy? Was it curiosity? She couldn’t tell. The wallflower turning into a black rose. *Click.*

One morning, she felt another hand slowly fastening the choker around her neck. In the mirror, she saw black-painted nails gently scratching her skin.

Samantha stood behind her, biting her lower lip with a predatory gaze fixed on Natalie—a butterfly caught in the spider's web.

The hand glided down Natalie’s shoulders, across her chest, pausing briefly at her breasts before continuing down her midriff, tracing the ridges of her toned abs like a drumstick drawn across chimes.

Possessive fingers slipped along her inner thighs, gliding toward the peak of that small, aching mountain. Aroused, Natalie closed her eyes as the choker fastened shut. *Click.*

But the sweet touch never came.

When Natalie opened her eyes, Samantha was gone—had never been there at all. Her own left hand gripped the choker tight while her right had already slipped three fingers inside her jeans.

She blushed at her own vivid daydream.