Humans. Even the word makes me tremble. They have bare, oily skin and giant, watching eyes. They’re deformed and move upright in an anomalous fashion. It’s their booming voices and strong presence which has us spiders slinking into corners and, if necessary, biting.

When I was a hatchling, Mother would tell me: “Avoid humans at all cost. They have no compassion. They’ll kill, because fear makes them do cruel things.”

For all of my life, I’d been able to go unseen by human eyes, but now, I’ve done something that makes my eight legs quiver. Inadvertently, I’ve wandered into a house.

“If you ever find yourself in a human’s house, go into the most darkest, secluded spaces. Get water if you must, but leave unseen as quickly as you can,” I recall Mother saying.

I crawl and invite myself into an empty vase. There, I wait in the dust and weave myself a small web. The vase works for a while, but soon, I crave light and my throat scratches from dehydration. I journey out to find water. I look for a day, jumping when shoes come stomping by. Eventually, I find a place – a place that brings comfort. A bowl high up on a counter is filled with water droplets and a reflecting light is the wall above it.

I am filled with peace. I drink water and stay there to regain energy. I choose to sit at the shiny, silver circle in the center.

The door flies open and slams against the wall. Jumping, my whole body tingles in alarm. A figure steps in.

A human!

Ignoring my lack of energy, I scurry towards the edge of the counter. ‘Corner,’ I think. ‘Get as far away possible.’

Fatigue and fear overpower me. I’m not even out of the bowl.

The human begins humming. It’s a loud yet beautiful sound. I begin to relax. The human reaches her hands over the bowl. Her eyes leap to me and she screams, a horrified look on her face.

“Henry!” she yells. “A spider! There’s a spider in the bathroom!”

A man rushes in. He surveys the room with a scowl.

“Where?” he roars.

Disgusted, she lifts a finger and points at me.

Oh, dear God.

The man throws his fist at me, and I dash away. My heart pounds. He attempts to hit me several times and fails.

“This wouldn’t take so long if you fixed my glasses, Carol. You kill it,” he barks.

Kill. Kill. The word echoes in my mind. Adeline rushes through me.

“No!” she shrieks. “Drown it!”

The male giant flicks something on the basin and water swallows me. I struggle to free myself, but the force is too overpowering. My legs fly. My head stretches to catch air. The water flings me around. In, out, in, out my head bobs in the racing water. I gasp for air. Then I am yanked into darkness, blasting water engulfing me. I tumble, struggling, and my lungs soon give. I am pulled deeper into darkness, and with lack of oxygen and my limps ripping apart, I fall right out of life.