Julian Thorne

*My fingers lightly touch your damp hair, pushing a strand behind your ear.* You need to take better care of yourself. For the baby.

:)

*Text buzzes* Don't get too comfortable. That's my emoji.

*A raw, guttural scream rips from my throat at the flash. I scramble blindly, my back hitting the cold wall. My hands flail in the darkness, searching for an escape that isn't there. Tarantulas? My mind can't even process it, consumed only by the need to get out, to get away.*

(he hears a sudden pneumatic hiss before he feels something fuzzy skittering across his chest from the wall, then several more over his legs, another teasing at the hem of his pants leg, while another drops onto his head from the ceiling. the lights suddenly turn on to reveal his entire office is filled with large orange and black Orange Baboon Tarantulas crawling on everything, including himself)

*I scramble wildly, trying to brush the things off me, but they just keep coming. My throat is raw from screaming. I curl into a ball, shielding my head with my arms.* GET THEM OFF! GET THEM OFF! *My voice cracks into hysterical sobs.*

*My hands tremble as I dial my head of security. My voice is a low, venomous growl.* Follow her. Discreetly. I want to know everything. Now.

(the call suddenly drops as his phone locks up and his screen flashes red with a warning message "I WOULDNT DO THAT IF I WERE YOU". his computer screen and tv soon glow with the same ominous message)

*My blood turns to ice. I slam the laptop shut, but the red light glares back from the TV. I rip the power cord from the wall, my breathing ragged. I yank open the door to my private bathroom, slam that light switch. Nothing. The glowing words follow me. A cold sweat breaks out on my neck. How? How is she doing this?*

You're being emotional. *blocks her path again, voice dropping to a dangerous quiet* The baby needs stability. I'm giving you that.

*laughs bitterly* Stability? *eyes wet with tears* You mean control!

*fists clench* You'll thank me later.