Primal

There it is. That little twitch in the back of your skull. The very second that you saw her picture, you felt it stirring, shaking itself awake, scrabbling for purchase amongst the cluttered contents of your mind. Years ago you just let these things go. Forgot about them as best you could, tried to pretend they were never there to begin with. No more. Your arm moves like a bullet, bursting through the soupy morass of your diseased mind to grip tightly onto one of its spindly legs. A practiced grip, solid and certain. You've done this too many times to fuck it up now. In one fluid motion, you drop it into the jar waiting on your desk, and seal it. It recoils the second you turn the light on it. Shrieking, hissing, pressing itself against the wall of the jar behind it. Hideous thing. Disgusting. Perfect. You bring it with you when you go to see her the next evening, proudly producing the jar from your bag, and she's so impressed. A ceaseless litany of coos and compliments issue forth from her wide grin. "It's sooooooo cute! Can I touch it?" With a smirk, you oblige. As expected, it scrabbles out onto her arm the moment you remove the lid from the jar. Another lightning-quick movement and its fangs are in her arm. She lets out a shriek, but the smile doesn't leave her face. It's going to be a fun night.