Dad hung from the ceiling in the same way I did when I walked into that spider’s trap earlier, only he was covered up in more webbing than I had. The webbing went all the way up to his neck, forming a strange sort of purple cocoon over his body that made me feel ill just looking at it. The rest of the living room wasn’t in very good shape, either. The TV had been smashed and lay on the floor, pieces of its shattered screen everywhere; the coffee table had been stepped on and destroyed right in the middle; and all of Dad’s Bible studies, commentaries, and other theological books had been knocked off their shelves. The couch was torn in two, which made it look like a big fight had happened here, but I still feared for Dad’s life.
“Dad?” I said, running up to him and shaking him. “Dad, can y
