A New Day (Book 2)

Chapter 7

Y/n pov

As Peter and I are walking back it's quiet and awkward. I start to get this pain starting at the back of my neck and down my spine. This pain causes me to freeze. "Y/n, are you ok?" Peter asks. I grab my head and nod.

"Yeah I'm fine. Look I'm sorry again that I freaked out. You just, you remind me a lot of my brother. I always tried to hide these things from him. I remember I disobeyed one time and he walked in. I told him to close his eyes. In between the hits I would talk to him," I tell him. I don't really know why I'm telling him all of this but I continue, "I would always try to protect him. I would always take the beating for him. Drove him crazy when he got older."

"It's ok. But I'm not young, I mean I've fought bad guys. Can I ask you a question though?" Peter asks. "Maybe," I respond. "Why did they choose you?" Peter asks. I don't even have to think to respond, "I've been asking myself that same question since I was eight."

"Wait! How old were you when they took you?" He asked again. "I thought you said one question?" I question. "Well I have like two more," he laughs. "I was eight." "When were you born?"He asks. "nineteen fifteen, Y/bd," I reply. Then Peter's eyes go wide.

"So you're older than both Mr.Barnes and Mr.Rogers!" He exclaims. "Wait wait, ok so you're like one-hundred," he adds. "Hundred and eight to be exact," I correct. "Wow." We end up getting Morgan and I take them to where the food is. Once Peter is done eating he puts Morgan to bed while I check the perimeter.

As I'm finishing up, the pain comes back. I let out a grunt and lose my balance for a minute but then regain it. I make my way back inside. I walk in and look for the infirmary. Once I find it, I grab tweezers and a scalpel and sit down on the metal table. The one on in my leg went through and is already starting to heal a little bit.

I grab the scalpel and make an incision in my shoulder. Only problem though is that the scalpel is stuck to my arm, meaning I can't try and get out the bullet. "Ughhhh," I moan. I hear a knock on the door. I turn around and see Peter standing in the doorway. "You ok?" He asks. "Dandy. NO! The scalpel is stuck to my arm!" I shout.

"HAHAHAHAH!" Peter laughs. "It's not funny," I tell him in an annoyed voice. "I mean, it kinda is," he chuckles, wiping away a tear. Suddenly my arm starts glitching. It basically goes limp, then straight and limp again. I let out a little grunt of pain.

"Are you ok?" Peter asks. "The bullet is interfering with the arm. So no," I tell him. "Do you want me to try?" Peter asks. "What other choice do I have but to trust a 15 year old," I whine. "Ok first off, in biology I got to dissect a frog. Second, I'm 17. OH shoot!" Peter exclaims. "What?!" I ask with a worried tone. "I was supposed to watch Star Wars with Ned and MJ tonight! Also I haven't been in school for like a week," Peter blurts.

"Wow," I say, not amused at all. "Hey! The Star Wars trilogies are amazing!" He exclaims. "I have no clue who you're talking about," I tell him. Then he gasps as if his soul leaves his body. "You've never watched Star Wars?" Shouts Peter. "Also can I just remind you that I'm not a frog. I'm a rat," I tell him then I burst out laughing. I then look over to him, seeing that he's not laughing.

"What? It's so funny!" I laugh. Shockingly, my German comes out a lot clearer than I thought. "It's sad," he says with a tear rolling down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he says with puppy dog eyes. "Why? At least I'm not a pig," I tell him trying to brighten up the mood. "But I still don't trust you with getting out a bullet," I tell him.

"Understandable," Peter responds. "Come on," I say standing up and leading him out of the room. As we walk Peter asks, "Where are we going?" "Just be patient," I tell him. I end up leading him to the roof. Once we get up you can see all the stars in the sky. "Wow," Peter says with his mouth gaped open and his head tilted backwards, looking up to the stars.

I lay down and pat next to me. "Come sit," I order Peter. We both just lay there, looking up at the sky. "My friend and I used to sneak up here and we would sit and look at the stars. His mother would make me food and he would sneak it in. His father found out and boy was he pissed. We would try to count the stars but would shortly give up and talk about other things," I tell Peter. "What was his name?" He asks me. "Edmund Zola. Once his mother died we would come up here and he would always say that his mother was watching over him and that he could feel her presence," I tell Peter.

I don't know why I'm telling him this but it feels nice to talk and not be silenced or muzzled. "My Aunt May always used to say that my parents were up there watching me. I hate to say this but I don't really remember my parents. I've seen pictures but I have a hard time remembering them. Once my aunt and I lost my Uncle Ben we never talked about it. But I like to think that when I fight, I'm fighting for him," Peter tells me.

I just sit there and listen to him. Poor kid's had it ruff, parents dead at the age of six, lived with his aunt and uncle, lost his uncle when he was fourteen, and now somehow got pulled in by Tony. "Do your remember your parents?" Peter asks.

"Not really. To be honest, I don't even really remember my brother. I know that he looked a lot like you, he was smart like you, and was always a lot more positive than I was. I wish I could remember them. Sad thing is though, I don't want to remember them. I let them down and failed them. After I was taken I had to protect my Peter. Before he died, all I did was protect him," I explain.

"How did your brother die?" Peter asks. I freeze and not only does my heart drop but I can hear his screams too. "He was killed," I tell him. We spent another hour or so just stargazing. The next couple days will be rough.