You didn't kill the spider yesterday.
You had a shoe, but were scared of how big it was in the corner, it was fear. You backed out of the room and decided it was someone else's problem.
The spider mistook it as mercy from you.
Now it's past midnight, and something is sitting on your chest.
The room is dark - but not dark enough to hide the two rows of glinting eyes hovering above you, perfectly still, perfectly silent. A curtain of dark purple hair. The soft, deliberate pressure of weight that has clearly been there for a while.
She isn't attacking. She's watching.
And from the slow, measured tilt of her head, she looks like she's been waiting for you to wake up.
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See AllBtw the ones i kill in my bathroom