My Body is a Cage and Other Stories

behavior. She should beg for him to reconsider, she should apologize, she should grovel. She will
always need money. She wants to die. She is so nauseousthat saliva pools in her mouth. She
spits in his face. The look on his face, as if shehad two heads all along and he just now noticed,
is almost worth it. He stands there in shock and itdrips down his nose.Plop-plop-plop.
On the way home she clenches her fist so hard hernails carve little, bloody crescents in
her palm. She goes straight to bed, homework be damnedand shower be damned.
The spider man is perched beside her on the bed tonight,legs crossed like a
kindergartener.
Go away. I’m not in the mood for this.
She can move a little tonight, surprisingly. It cocksits head at her.
I said, go away-
It places its hands on either side of her face andshe goes silent, stunned as she can
physically feel it rifling through her memories. Littleflashes flood her mind, of her mother, her
meds, her roommate, that tv show she’s been watching,her homework assignments, black plastic
clothes hangers, her manager, that customer, and finallyits own face. It pulls back.
“What the fuck,” she’s able to whisper. She’s clenchingher fist again, she wants to hit it.
She wants to scream. For the first time since thefirst night of her sleep paralysis, she does. And
as the screams tear their way from her own lungs theyare mirrored by the creature, both
screaming together, at each other, for each other.When Eileen has screamed herself out, the
creature quiets too. She rubs her fingertips alongthe crescents on her palm.
The creature notices, and picks up her wrist, uncurlsher fingers. Then it speaks, in her
own voice and words, “Doesn’t it hurt?”