Mother of the Spiders: Octagon

10. Helen (Thread Two)

[Each chapter of Octagon corresponds to a song that inspired the shape of the character arc and/or story arc. You can listen to each chapter's "song" to gain further insight into the world-building of Gossamer Loom and the people who live there. I definitely had fun listening to these songs while I was writing the novel. Chapter 10's "Formation Song" is "I Put a Spell On You" by Screamin' Jay Hawkins.]

The musty air of the old attic made Helen's head throb. She wiped the back of her hand across her brow, smearing dust across her forehead.

Christ, what a mess.

The attic was like a tomb—years of forgotten shit piled up, decaying under more forgotten shit. Helen should have been enjoying this chore, right? She had been excited for these kinds of chores, hadn't she? This was all a part of her big fucking distraction!

After she had lost her cool at work, chewed out the intern, and had to take a step back from the company...

Moving back to Gossamer Loom: a fresh start for all! The perfect project for her and Robert. The perfect little small town oasis for Leslie.

Helen choked on dust.

Fuck. She hated it here.

The old house, creaky floors and drafty fucking windows felt more like a trap than a home. Oh, sure! It had seemed like a great idea at the start. She had convinced herself it would be this grand fucking homecoming. She was going back to her roots, right? She was going back to where everything started. But Gossamer Loom wasn't the same town she remembered.

Or maybe it was her that had changed. Grown the fuck up. Gotten all old and droopy and sucky like the rest of the world.

She stood up, stretched out her back, and sighed. Robert was supposed to be here for this kind of shit, but of course "something came up" with work and he was spending the night two towns over again. There's always fucking something, she thought bitterly. She couldn't even bring herself to be mad at the bastard anymore. She was just too tired.

And meanwhile, Saturday's visit hung over her head like a noose.

The fucking visit.

Helen wiped at the beads of sweat accumulating on her brow—abstracting the dirt and dust collage on her forehead even further—as she tried to push the thought of Caroline out of her mind. But there it hung, as sharp and persistent as ever. She loved her sister, but every time she imagined seeing her all sad and pathetic in the psych ward at Kane Hospital, every time she imagined Caroline strapped to a bed, medicated into oblivion, it felt like a piece of her was dying somehow. Robert always had some good, manly, sensible excuse for why he couldn't visit sick relatives, attend birthday parties, et cetera, et cetera...

It was easier for him, wasn't it? Staying busy. Pretending the problem wasn't real. But for Helen, putting it off so long when Caroline was her only sister just made her look like a cunt. So she'd finally decided to toughen up and make the journey without her husband.

At least Leslie was coming with her.

Her daughter had more patience than anyone Helen had ever known. More patience than she deserved. Leslie was the one good thing in her life, but Helen couldn't shake the feeling that she was failing her. She couldn't protect her from everything, and sometimes—at her worst—she worried that she couldn't protect her from herself.