Arachne could hear movement downstairs. Four years, for four years she has never left her room in the boarding house. She was a quiet one she was, always lingering in her dimly light room covered with crumpled pieces of lined paper and thrown pillow cases. She liked it this way, alone.

She placed her fingers on the jaw of her skull, a numb sensation overwhelmed her at the touch. She disliked that feeling, it was as if her own head was not hers. Arachne let out a grunt and picked up a pillow off of the floor, holding it close to her own body for warmth and comfort.

Something told her to check what was happening downstairs, her curiosity yearned to see what was beyond the crack of the door.
Arachne slowly good up and turned to face the door, staring for a moment. She dropped the pillow and extended her arm gripping the handle and slowly turning it. The silence of the room was broken as the door creaked open. She peaked through the crack of the door, her hand stopping her from opening the door any further. She could feel her heart pounding in the depths of her chest, she felt anxiety.
As quickly as she opened it, she slammed it shut, locked the door and launched herself onto her bed. A shower of papers scattered off the bed and onto the floor.
She threw her blanket over herself and tried forgetting what she had recently did. A cowardly lion, that's what she viewed herself as. Something that was so minuscule that she was practically non-existent.

Arachne shivered and turned her back towards the door. She couldn't sleep, nor eat, nor excrete waste like a normal human could, but she wanted to be as human as possible, which was deemed impossible. She spent every waking moment writing, or sitting, or staring. The environment she lived in was abnormally quiet.

---

The girl wrote novels, fantasy novels of sorts, she used her past life in her realm as a plot, which ended up being a successful hit. No one would ever know or believe that the author of the novel came from a realm of people who had the heads of skull, or had a war. Humans were ignorant and stayed true to their own beliefs. They read her books without the slightest idea that maybe there was more than just them. But it didn't matter, writing allowed Arachne to stay inside, in her room, and that was important to her.