Itsy-bitsy spider

Climbed up the water spout

My eyes were closed. My arms hugged my knees and I was rocking back and forth.

Down came the rain

And washed the spider out

I hummed softly to myself. There was an odd smell in the room.

Out came the sun

And dried up all the rain

My teeth were gnawing on the insides of my cheeks. I whimpered quietly.

And the itsy-bitsy spider

Climbed up the spout again

I opened my eyes. I was still in my daddy's room. A broken lamp lay on the floor and bullet holes cracked the off-white walls.

A few feet in front of me, my daddy lay in a pool of blood. His face was frozen in rage and there was a clear hole above his right eye, as if he was shot from a close distance. The black handgun sat harmlessly in the corner of the room.

What have I done?

I tried to remember what had happened. Nothing came to me. I just suddenly regained consciousness and found myself in the serene chaos that I had created.

I noticed the anomalous smell again. It smelled like a dead animal. I opened my eyes in horror and stared at my daddy's corpse. Was he rotting already? How long had I been sitting there for?

I got up shakily. My lunch felt like it wanted to take a hike back up my esophagus. I shuddered and left the room.

What am I supposed to do? Call the police? But if I call the police, I'll sit in jail for the rest of my life. But I can't just leave him here. I licked my lips and inhaled slowly, trying to stop the tears from coming. I was so lost and helpless.

Brittany. I'll call Brittany. She'll know what to do.

I walked to my room and picked up my phone. I found her name in my contacts and pressed "Call." Please pick up. Please.

But she didn't. The phone just rang endlessly until I finally decided to put it down. My mouth was dry and my throat was parched.

I thought about Brittany. What she would do if she were in my shoes. I immediately knew the answer to that. She would turn herself into the police. She'd be too honest and too kindhearted to run away from her crime.

I raised my phone again and reluctantly dialed 911. I put the phone to my ear and listened to it ring.

"911, what is your emergency?" said a female voice.

I opened my mouth, but quickly closed it. Tears began to flow down my face.

"Hello? Is there anybody on the line?"

"Um…" I muttered.

Her voice softened. "Honey, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I…" I began to sob. "Um…I…I killed my daddy."

"Okay, darling, why don't you give me your address and we'll sort everything out?"

I gave her my name and address and ended the call. She told me that the officers would be at my house in around five minutes.

I was numb and confused. The weight of my misdeed hadn't fully sunken in yet. It was like I was watching all of this happen to another person. Like I wasn't in control. An innocent bystander.

I was appalled by the fact that I felt no remorse. I thought that I loved my daddy. I thought that I cared about him. And yet…now that he was gone, all I could feel was relief. Relief that he wouldn't be coming into my room anymore at nights to "give me love." To rape me.

It was like he had this power over me while he was alive. A brainwashing supremacy that would control me, make me believe things that weren't true. But it was different now. I saw right through his lies and his acts. He never loved me.

I heard sirens getting louder and louder as they neared my house. Before I knew it, someone was knocking firmly on the front door.

I opened the door hazily. I was taken aback when I saw a whole army of police personnel on my front porch.

"Santana?" said a thin woman in a suit softly. I nodded. She put a comforting hand on my shoulder and said, "Come, we'd like to talk to you."

She led me to the kitchen. I looked back and saw the militia storm in through the door.

She sat me down at the table and sat in the chair to my left. A brawny man with kind eyes stood behind her.

"My name's Detective Hart, but you can call me Julia. This is my partner, Detective Boon," she motioned to the man.

"But you can call me Max," he smiled compassionately.

I managed a halfhearted smile.

"So, Santana, can you please tell us what happened?" she flipped to a new page in her little notebook and stood her pen at ready.

I eyed her suspiciously. Was this just a façade to get me talking? Or was she really on my side?

She looked at me understandingly. "I know that it's hard. You've gone through something very traumatic. But I need you to trust me," her eyes bore holes into my soul.

I looked at her, then at Max. He nodded at me encouragingly.

"Um…" My eyes darted around. Where do I start? I breathed in deeply and began, "Well, I was cast in this play at school today…"

I told them how the play wouldn't be funded by the school, and that we were all asked to bring in fifty dollars. I explained to them how I had never gotten an allowance, and that my daddy would never have given me the money willingly. I described how I arrived at home and tiptoed my way into his room. How he woke up and threw me to the wall. How he brought out his gun and put in the bullets.

"Then…" I trailed off.

"Then what?" Julia said softly. I gazed at her. She had auburn hair and big, brown eyes. Her face showed nothing but sympathy.

"I don't remember," I said finally. "I…I think I blacked out. When I woke up, he was already dead."

The detectives gazed at me, deep in thought. "Okay," Max said at last. "My gut tells me you're being completely honest with us. And my gut's almost never wrong."

"We'll hear about your gut later, Max. Come on, Santana," she motioned for me to stand up.

"Where are we going?" I asked hesitantly.

"We have to take you down to the precinct. Standard procedures. But," she added, "I hardly think that it's necessary to handcuff you. You're not gonna run away from us, are you?"

I shook my head. She smiled and led me out of the house.

Blue and red lights blinded me from all directions as we walked outside. My body started shaking violently when I saw an occupied black body bag lying limply by a white ambulance.

A young man in glasses stopped the detectives. "Bullet clear through his head. Instant death. I would say he's been dead for around four hours."

Four hours? I was blacked out for four hours?

Max nodded and put his hand on my back. He and Julia led me to their car. It was faded black and looked like it belonged in the 80's.

I bent my head over and sat in the back seat. I looked at the detectives through the bars that separated the hardheaded criminals from the do-good law keepers.

The police precinct was an aged brick building. I was guided through security and down a grimy hallway. Soon-to-be-convicts were trying to wrestle their ways out of officers' grips.

We took an elevator up to the third floor. "This is our department," Max explained to me as we walked through a set of glass doors. "Special Victims Unit. We deal with minors, which is why we were called to your house."

There was a little prison area in the far back corner. Burly, heavily tattooed men cracked their knuckles in agitation as they looked at me through the bars.

Max and Julia escorted me to a room in the back. It was empty except for a table and three chairs. A long mirror covered the front wall.

"Alright, Santana...We have to talk to our captain, and we'll see where we'll go from there," Julia said as she and Max left me alone in the room.

I looked at the mirror. I knew what it was. One of those mirrors that was reflective from one side and transparent from the other. They were watching me.

I sat on one of the metal chairs. Reality finally started coming down on me. I fidgeted nervously as I thought about how I would be prosecuted and sent to prison, where I would probably be killed. I began to rock back and forth again.

Itsy-bitsy spider…

More than ever, I needed Brittany with me. She would know how to get me out of this mess. She would save me from the brutal hands of fate.

I felt like something was pushing at me from all sides and I was being forced to retract into this small, meaningless being. I felt like there was a wall being built around me. I was trapped. I ran and ran along the wall, but there was no opening. No crack, no chink. No way to escape. You must turn back and face your enemy, your arch nemesis—your destiny. And no matter how far you sprint along that wall, you will never sneak away from your cruel and unusual future.

The door opened and a lengthy blond man entered the room. He looked to be about forty. He smiled kindly and sat down in front of me. "Hi, Santana," he began. "I'm Dr. Pummle."

"Doctor?" I asked apprehensively.

"Psychologist. I work with the FBI. I'm just here to do a simple evaluation of you."

I rolled my shoulders uncomfortably. He looked at me expectantly, so I nodded.

"Good," he smiled. "I was told that you experienced a blackout. Or, in a more technical term, a period of disassociation. Has this ever happened before?"

I thought back to my past. I remembered every class, every lunch, every bully, every rape. "No," I said.

"Very well. Tell me a little about you. About your childhood."

I looked at him uneasily. "There's nothing interesting about my childhood."

"Oh, but I'm sure there is," he said thoughtfully.

When I didn't respond, he continued, "Tell me about your mother. Where is she?"

"She's dead," I said simply.

"How did she die?"

"She had ovarian cancer. By the time the doctors found it, it was too late."

"I understand. What was it like for you, losing her?"

My knee bounced up and down anxiously. "I don't know," I looked at the table. "It was hard."

"Did your father help you when times were difficult?"

I cocked my head to the right and rubbed it against my shoulder. I just wanted him to go away.

"What happened with your father?" he asked gently.

I looked around helplessly, trying to hold back my tears. I didn't want to talk about it. Why was he making me do this?

"Santana, I know that this is difficult. Just take your time. Tell me what happened with your father."

I looked at him. His light green eyes shone caringly.

"He…" I whimpered. "He came into my room."

"Okay," Dr. Pummle said. "And what did he do when he came into your room?"

"He…" My tears had a mind of their own and decided to rebelliously pour down my face. "He raped me," I finished.

"Okay," he said again. "This is good, Santana. You're doing very well. Was this the only time that he came into your room?"

I shook my head. He nodded compassionately.

"Tell me about other things in your life. Happier things. Is there someone special?"

A small smile formed on my face. "Yeah."

"Who?"

"Her name's Brittany."

"And she's your friend?"

I looked up at him. "My girlfriend."

A shade of understanding passed over his face. "Ah. So you're very close with Brittany?"

"She's my other half," I smiled.

He smiled back gently. "Okay. You did very well, Santana." He stood up. "Thank you for answering my questions."

He left the room and shut the door behind him. I scratched the back of my neck and looked at myself in the mirror.

My face looked old and sunken-in. There were dark circles under my eyes and my cheeks were still wet with tears.

After a few minutes, Julia came into the room. She brought me a water bottle and a muffin. I devoured the muffin and gulped down the water. Feeling somewhat revitalized, I looked up at her.

"We've contacted our prosecutor and filled her in. She's on your side. She'll ask for very low bail."

I nodded. Julia continued, "We'll take you to court first thing tomorrow morning. You'll sleep here tonight. We've got a couple of beds upstairs. Come on," she held out her hand.

I took it and followed her out of the horrid room. Julia guided me up two flights of stairs and to a room on the fourth and topmost floor. The room was filled with cots, piled up in threes.

"You can sleep wherever you'd like," she said kindly. I picked the closest one and lay down. Julia took a seat next to me.

"You're staying with me?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes. Technically, I have to watch you. But I mainly just wanna make sure that you're okay."

I smiled thankfully at her and closed my eyes, exhausted from the day's horrifying turn of events.

I imagined Brittany's hand stroking my hair, her lips kissing my forehead, my nose, my chin. Before I knew it, I was in the harmonious universe of dreams, where I could live in a world without crime, without fathers, without walls.