Phobia definition: Fear of spiders

I walk into my bedroom as ten o'clock at night begins to roll around. I slowly walk over to my night stand and click on the light, illuminating the room in a golden glow. It's been a very long and pretty stressful day and all I really need to do right now is get some sleep. I change out of my day clothes and into my comfortable pajamas that have provided me with a comforting sleep all the times I've worn them. I take a deep, relaxing sigh and walk over to my bed, only to see a black dot on the wall.

I freeze.

It's a pretty big black dot. It has legs. It's sitting right above my bed in the tiny corner. It probably has yellow or red eyeballs. It's just sitting there. Waiting. I stare at it, every muscle and joint in my body locking as I stare at the eight-legged monster hanging on my wall. By my bed.

I am alone.

I stare at it more. My heart races. My brain begins to overload as I draw a blank, unsure of what to do. If I leave for spider spray, it'll find a place on the ceiling to land on my head. If I grab a shoe, I'll have to go close to it and then it'll jump on me and start to crawl into my pajamas. My hands begin to shake as I slowly back out of my room, checking for any more unwelcomed visitors. I then quickly bolt from the room and scamper down the hallway to the kitchen where I keep the spider spray. It's guaranteed to kill spiders instantly. I had it specially bought for occasions such as this. I scamper back down the hallway into my room-

It's gone.

Panicking, I spin around, covering my head with my hands in case the spider decides to land on me. But then what if he lands on my hand? Or jumps into my shirt? Or what if he crawled under my covers?! That means I'll have to lift the covers up which means I might flip him onto me which means he'll land on me and start crawling all over the place....!!!!!!!

I turn around again and a black, eight legged spider is dangling right in front of my face.

I let out an ear-piercing scream and topple to the floor, aiming the spray can like a trained soldier wielding a gun. I press on the sprayer and the liquid jets out onto the spider, firing it onto the floor. I spray the carpet frantically, drowning the arachnid in the massive soaked puddle. Shaking, I collapse onto the floor and look around my room, afraid something else might pop up and scare me. My chest felt like it was collapsing; my heart raced like mad; my brain hurt.

I finally stood up and shakily walked out of my room, not bothering to take anything out. I'll come back to the room in a few days to sleep in bed. For now, I've decided to camp out on the couch where everything's spotless and I won't me ambushed in the middle of the night.