Along Came a Spider Ch. 01

--

Friday, 6:33 p.m.

Tabitha's face was lit by the glow of her cell phone, and she grimaced as she locked eyes with her reflection in her bedroom mirror. Her phone screen only served to better illuminate the hollow circles beneath her eyes, cast the pallor of her skin into sharp relief. Her ankle rotated restlessly on her knee, wrinkling the still-made purple comforter beneath her legs with its movements. Her hair was still a little damp from the shower she had finally coaxed herself into, and her fingernails were ragged and sharp from the constant attention of her teeth. She hadn't slept. She hadn't even been able to force food into her stomach. All she had managed to do for the past several hours was sit on her bed and listen obsessively to the thin, thin wall that bordered 201B and 202B. She hadn't even mustered up the courage to do her laundry, which sat hopefully in the basket near her bed.

This wasn't how she wanted to spend her day off.

She twitched spectacularly as a soft knock came from her hallway. Her eyes slid towards the window, which was still lit with just a touch of twilight, and she swallowed before making her way to the door. Tentatively, she chanced a glimpse through the peephole, and her shoulders loosened when she saw the figure behind the door. After fiddling with the lock and chain, she yanked it open.

"Boo," whispered the woman in the hallway. Tabitha quickly grabbed the lapels of her black jacket and jerked her inside. The door slammed loudly behind her, and Tabitha tried to still her quivering hands as she locked up the apartment again.

"Lily," Tabitha exhaled once all the locks were in place, "thank God you're here."

"Well, yeah. You called me twenty times last night," Lily droned, arching a well-groomed, fluorescent-pink eyebrow. She stretched lazily, and the hem of her purple-and-black-striped sweater lifted to reveal a thin, milky stomach. She was wearing a smooth black miniskirt and glittery black tights today, and her slender legs were clad in a pair of zippery black leather boots. Fingers tipped with black-lacquered, pointed nails rose to brush a fringe of short magenta hair out from her face. Lily hadn't changed much since high school, with her thrift-store clothes and vivid hair, and there were days when Tabitha wondered if she would just stay that way forever and die an old rainbow-haired lady with wickedly sharp, dark nails and an abundance of tattoos. "Did you miss me? Or, like..." She stared uncertainly at Tabitha, her hazel eyes widening worriedly when she caught sight of her pallor. "...do you owe scary people money...?"

"What? Oh, no, I just..." Tabitha looked down at the floor. "I did miss you."

"Okay, not that you don't have every right to miss me," Lily said, bending over to unzip her boots, "because I am delightful, but you do look kind of sketched-out, phone bombing notwithstanding. Are you okay, babe?"

"I am great," Tabitha replied in a very unconvincing falsetto. "And I have brown liquor in excess," she added when she caught sight of the dubious expression on Lily's face. She scurried to the kitchen, removed a large glass jug of amber-hued liquid from a nearby cabinet, then two glasses from the door neighboring it, and plunked them all on the counter. "Ta-dah," she announced cheerfully, and she hoped she was only imagining the high-pitched panic that had invaded her voice. Lily narrowed her eyes.

"You can only distract me for so long with whiskey." She dropped her boots to the floor and leaned eagerly over the counter. "But I'll sure as hell let you," she said, and Tabitha laughed before trickling a small stream into each glass. "Don't be stingy, distract me proper," she chided. Tabitha splashed a little more into her glass. "So, what are we doing tonight? I've got a ticket to that show going on at Beta. It's gonna be a full house, but if you wear that dress we picked out for you that one time I'm sure we can--"

"I figured we just could stay in," Tabitha interrupted. "We could watch movies, and play games, and talk..." She paused as Lily began to frown. "...and...drink?" she added hopefully. Lily sighed.

"We can do all that until about eight. I can't miss the headliners." She grimaced as Tabitha fixed her with a betrayed look, then tapped her long tails pensively on the counter. "Maybe nine? Look, chika, I got this ticket for a steal..."

"You never stay in with me anymore," Tabitha said accusingly, and Lily narrowed her eyes.

"Don't you play the abandoned-best-friend card on me. If you want to hang out with me, just come out. We can have a sleepover later, but night is for the living." Tabitha wanted to tell her just how wrong she was, but, at the risk of looking like a lunatic, kept her mouth shut. My neighbor is a member of the living dead, and he knows that I know, and we need to stay hidden within the sacred line of my threshold so that he can't follow us and drink us wasn't a valid reason to keep Lily from having a good time. Was a threshold even any good in an apartment building? Did she need salt or something?

"You know I hate night clubs," she said instead, trying not to think about her apartment's lack of sea salt, garlic, or holy paraphernalia. To her surprise, Lily groaned, leaned forward and seized her cheeks.

"Chika," she told her solemnly. Tabitha made a noise of protest as she smushed her cheeks together. "I'm trying, here. I'm trying so. Hard. What are you afraid of? You might have fun--meet somebody, even."

"I don't want to meet anyone at a club," Tabitha said stubbornly, her voice muffled around her squished face. "I want to watch Netflix with you and drink whiskey and eat pizza."

Lily made a frustrated sound that sounded like agh and released her cheeks. Tabitha rubbed them reproachfully. "We can do that on a Monday."

"I don't drink on Mondays."

"And that's why you don't have any fun." Tabitha stared gloomily into her cup of whiskey and took a pensive sip, and Lily rolled her eyes. "I'm kidding. But if you're not going to join my evening of debauchery, you might as well make the best of our time together and start talking. How are you?"

Tabitha looked moodily down at the counter. "Pretty good. Quit my other job last month. Got promoted at the bookstore." Lily's face lit up with glee.

"Again? You know, I always thought you and Luke would be a cute thing. Didn't you say his wife is out of the picture now?"

"You're sick," Tabitha laughed. "And yes, and she left a mess of the bookkeeping. I took over her position six weeks ago." Lily took a long draught of whiskey and grinned at her from over the glass.

"You shameless homewrecker. Taking over his estranged wife's position the moment she leaves...I can't even believe it."

"Jesus, Lil, he's like fifty," Tabitha snorted.

"And you're 'like fifty' on the inside. Perfect for each other. You can go to the park on Sundays and feed the ducks together on a bench." She ducked as Tabitha hurled a ladle towards her face, and it clattered harmlessly against her wall. For a moment, Tabitha felt a tingle of dread run up her spine. She hoped she hadn't woken up her 'neighbor.'

"Don't be so awful. Besides, he has a daughter in college; she's only three years younger than me. That's weird." Tabitha took another drink of her whiskey, only half-surprised to find it empty. She'd been too nervous to drink the night before, but now found that the alcohol was unwinding her nerves. She paused, then unfastened the lid to the whiskey and poured another tiny glass. Lily watched her thoughtfully.

"You finished that quick." She raised her chin stubbornly. "You gonna tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to pry it from you with more liquor?"

"It's my liquor, in case you've forgotten," Tabitha grumbled around the brim of the glass.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Lily turned towards the doorway. Tabitha froze in place. "Are you expecting someone?" Lily asked, and Tabitha swallowed hard.

"No," she whispered.

Lily frowned. "You want me to get it?"

"Maybe they'll go away," Tabitha murmured. Her mouth felt bone dry. Her eyes flitted towards the window in her living room, and she felt her stomach lurch when she saw only darkness. Night had come too soon. Her neighbor of the damned could prowl around as much as he pleased.

"Excuse me," a man's voice called from the other side of the door. "I think I have your mail..." Liquid ice pooled in the hollows of Tabitha's bones.

"Awww, did you get a new neighbor? That's sweet of him, dropping off your mail," Lily said cheerfully, and Tabitha lurched forward as her hand drifted towards the doorknob. Lily raised her eyebrows. "What's the matter with you?"

"He...he could have just left it in my mail slot," she said stubbornly, and Lily gaped at her in disbelief. "Please don't answer it. I don't even know him--"

"Jeez, ice queen, he probably just wants to introduce himself. I thought I was antisocial, come on..." She toggled the lock and ignored Tabitha as she came flying around the side of the kitchen, but before Tabitha could grab Lily's arm, the door was open.

There he was, tall and looming and leather-jacket-clad in Tabitha's doorway. He was wearing a black hoodie underneath his coat, the hood of which had been drawn up over his head. It was spattered darker in places from the icy drizzle that had started outside. His face was pale and angular and tapered to a fine point at his chin. His lips were nearly just as pale; an icy sort of beige now that they weren't smeared with sticky red. Two enormous dark eyes--far too dark to be a proper brown--gazed down impassively at them. The darkness in them swallowed up any sort of detectable emotion, but for a moment, Tabitha could have sworn she saw something like mild surprise flicker in their depths. She couldn't really blame him. She was affixed firmly to Lily's other arm in the middle of trying to drag her away from the door, and Lily was gawking up at him in wonder. Tabitha's face burned. They must look ridiculous.

"Hel-lo," Lily cooed. Tabitha fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course this shadowy stranger would appeal to Lily's senses. Lily ate danger up like a purring kitten lapping up cream. Tabitha always wondered how she hadn't already settled down with a drug lord somewhere.

"Are you...Tabitha?" he asked, glancing down at the envelopes in his hand. His voice was muted, like they were in a library. Lily blinked, then hauled Tabitha forward.

"Here she is," she said, and then she made her way back to the counter to sip at her whiskey, looking slightly disappointed by his lack of interest. Tabitha's lip quivered, and the man in the doorway offered her the handful of envelopes that were spattered with rainwater. His fingers were pale and rather bony, and she avoided their touch as she snatched the paper up.

"Thank you," she mumbled. Her other hand clutched at the edge of her door, ready to slam it shut at a moment's notice, but to her surprise, a tiny smile worked its way onto his pale lips.

"The mail carrier must have mixed up the boxes. Besides, I've been living here a few weeks, so I thought I'd come say hello." He tucked his hands into his pockets.

"Hello," Tabitha said weakly. From behind her, she heard Lily snort.

"I'm James. Tabitha, right? That's a nice name." He leaned forward, ever so slightly. "Didn't I see you last night?" he murmured, and she choked a little. It was suddenly very hard to breathe.

"Did you? I-I barely remember," she lied, smiling apologetically. "It was late." He shrugged.

"It was. You know, I wanted to apologize," he added thoughtfully. "I work nights and I haven't paid any attention to the noise I've been making. I hope I haven't disturbed you..."

"It's fine. I'm fine. Heavy sleeper."

He grinned. It wasn't a nice expression. "That's good," he said. She swallowed.

"...Yes." Tabitha looked over her shoulder at Lily, who was gazing innocently at her kitchen sink and taking little pulls from her glass of whiskey. "Um, this is Lily." Lily waved vaguely. "And, well, we were talking..."

"I understand. Have a nice night." He flashed her another little smile. "It was very nice to meet you." And with that, he sauntered towards his door. Tabitha shut hers quickly and tried to steady her breathing as she did up the rest of the locks.

"He likes your naaaaaame," Lily crowed from behind her, and Tabitha heard her downing the rest of her drink. "Babe, you are just up to your ears in men..." Tabitha whirled around to face her, and Lily broke off as she observed the fury in her stare.

"I told you not to open the door!" she snapped.

"Holy shit, what's wrong with you?!" Lily gasped, and Tabitha groaned before slumping over on the counter next to her. "He seemed perfectly nice. Jesus, I knew you were a bit of a shut-in, but--"

"He freaks me out, okay?" she bleated out, right before downing the rest of her drink. Lily glugged another generous portion of whiskey into her glass, watching her curiously. Tabitha shot her a grateful look and took a long slurp of it.

"I've never seen you like this." She put a hand on Tabitha's shoulder. "Tabitha, I need you to get a grip and tell me what's going on."

Tabitha hesitated. Mental scales teetered and tipped as she contemplated the consequences of babbling to her best friend. She could be wrong, and Lily could wonder just how sane Tabitha was for the rest of her life. Worse still, she could be right and James, the unholy apartment tenant, would take a grave offense to her loquaciousness and slurp them up like a pair of strawberry milkshakes, lined up on a marble countertop just for him.

"I don't know," she finally said softly. She leaned heavily up against the counter. "He's always up all night and that was the first time he ever spoke to me. I just...I get a bad feeling from him." She swirled the dregs of whiskey in her glass and stared miserably at the dark liquid as it spun. "It's hard sometimes, living by myself. There's nobody here to make me feel safe," she admitted, and the honesty in her voice surprised her. It was easy enough being isolated, and the freedom it offered sometimes helped her forget the fleeting feelings of loneliness. That statement seemed to strike a chord with Lily, who shuffled a little closer.

"Honey," she said. "Girly..."

"What?" Tabitha sighed, turning to face her.

"I'll come spend the night with you tomorrow," she said gently. "I'll set up camp in there--" She indicated to the living room with a jerk of her head. "--and bring some movies and gummy worms or something and we can just chill. I can tell you need it." She leaned her forehead against hers, smelling of mango body wash and chapstick and cigarettes and whiskey, and Tabitha cracked a weary sort of smile. "Would that make you feel better?"

"Yes," Tabitha admitted.

"Okay. Slumber party. You got it." She ruffled Tabitha's hair, and Tabitha ducked away from her arms, laughing. "Animaniacs is on Netflix, you know that? You ever watch that shit?"

"When I was nine."

"You will not believe the dirty jokes they hid in there that we didn't catch. Wanna give it a rewatch?"

Tabitha grinned. "Absolutely."

--

Friday, 11:00 pm

Tabitha was locked in a staring contest with her laundry hamper. It was winning.

Lily had left a little over two hours ago, and, through the thin walls of her apartment, she hadn't been able to detect any signs of movement from the tenant next door. Any actions he might have taken over the past two hours had been muffled by animated hijinks and drunken chatter, and she was cursing herself for not paying better attention. He might still be there. He might have left for the night--maybe for 'work', although whether or not that was only code for consuming the blood of the innocent wasn't yet clear.

And now she was out of clean socks.

You will not become a recluse over this, Tabitha Miller, she told herself, but the part of her brain that she was trying to coax into submission was cowering stubbornly in a dark, secluded corner. You are brave and responsible and do not believe in monsters, and you will be damned if you are showing up for work tomorrow wearing dirty clothes. Her fingers twitched as she pushed herself to her feet, and she paused for several moments to listen for a telltale thump or the creaking of floorboards. She heard nothing.

She crossed her bedroom in a series of tentative steps. Her hands closed over the basket handles, and she lifted it slowly into her arms. The silence of her bedroom was an unstable, riotous thing; a thick curtain that obscured processions of unpleasant possibilities. She yearned for the familiarity of Lily's bored drawl and the buzz of cartoon music, anything that could distract her from the enigma next door and the horrible things he may or may not have been capable of doing to her person. I am brave, she told herself as she paced towards her apartment door. Her slippered feet scuffed softly over the tile in her hallway. She hesitated, then plucked a small steak knife from her knife block and shoved it under the layers and layers of clothing in her basket.

The door whined deafeningly as she crept out into the desolate hallway. From downstairs, she could hear the faint murmur of conversation. The voices didn't seem familiar. For the first time in her life, Tabitha regretted staying so isolated from the rest of the apartment complex. If she went missing, how long would it take for the other residents to even notice that she was gone? Even her more annoying neighbors had ways of making their presence known. The screaming lover's quarrels, the bouncing techno rhythms that played until the wee hours of the morning. There was a sort of assurance in that ruckus that she had never contemplated before: "We're still here, we're still here." Her eyes slid towards the door next to her, and she thinned her lips in determination before walking slowly down the hall and towards the stairs.

I am brave, and you don't scare me.

She took the stairs two at a time despite the reassuring lies she kept repeating to herself, eager to escape the dark, confined space. The complex's laundry room was in the basement floor, a tiny area that was lit with fluorescent overhead tubes and, to Tabitha's dismay, brimming with wolf spiders. She craned her neck over her shoulder as she approached the stair landing and squinted at the hallway above her. No noise, no shadows, no creepy-crawly neighbors out for her soul. So far, so good. For a moment, her gaze lifted to the ceiling, scanning the bumpy plaster for spindly dark figures that hung in wait, and then she shook herself and continued down the stairs.

The laundry room was as dim and empty as always, and she frowned at the humming, flickering bulb above her. She was frightened enough without being subjected to the sort of lighting that was prevalent in slasher films. But the thrum of machinery and the cool, stale air was comforting in its familiarity, and she settled herself near the laundry machine closest to the doorway. Her fingers played over the lumps of fabric and fished out her black turtleneck, a navy sweater, a pair of purple socks, and she felt her shoulders loosen as she tried to lose herself in her familiar weekly ritual.

Her spine stiffened as a blue, plastic laundry bin suddenly plunked itself next to hers. Pale fingers were gripping the handle, and connected to those fingers were slender, strong-looking arms clad in a loose black sweater. The blood quickly retreated from her face, and a fine layer of gooseflesh prickled up her forearms. The suddenness of his appearance filled her with a terrible sort of helplessness.