Broken Hero

Long day

MJ helped Peter throughout the day as best she could, all the while making sure it didn't look like she was. Ned was oblivious, as always. He didn't try to be. The boy was just naïve as Hell. He could hack into the FBI, but he couldn't tell when his friend was being abused. To his benefit though, Peter was exceptionally good at hiding it.

Flash managed to corner Peter in the boy's bathroom as everyone was transitioning between lunch and their next class. Ned eventually found them, but it was long enough for the older teen to get a few good punches in. Peter had ended up crawling to the trash can to dry heave for a few minutes before struggling to his feet, Ned doing his best to comfort him. He absolutely hated seeing his best friend in pain.

MJ helped him as far as to the door of his apartment building before he was on his own. Peter absolutely refused to let MJ and Ned inside. He didn't even want her this close but she insisted. It wasn't like he could stop her with the state he was in anyway.

"Be careful," she whispered, gently squeezing his hand. Terror coursed through her every time she watched Peter enter those doors. What if May went too far? What if she lost her boyfriend to a heartless monster? She couldn't bear it and it continuously tore her up inside.

He kissed her cheek lovingly and tried to give her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Reluctantly, he shrank back, took a deep breath, and stepped into the building.

Peter opened the door as quietly as possible, praying she wasn't home yet. May's hospital shifts were often erratic which staggered the times she was home. The apartment was silent and Peter let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He limped in slowly, just in case she was in her room. He didn't hear her heartbeat, but his paranoia never left him be. Still, after stepping in further, there was nothing. He made it to his room without anything happening and sank down against the wall, letting his bad leg lay flat.

The front door slammed open, making Peter jump. He froze as a wave of pain overwhelmed him from the movement and he stumbled closer to his bed. Sometimes, it seemed like the world was out to get him.

His door swung open so fast the doorknob nearly dented the wall behind it, revealing his aunt standing there. Her imposing figure casted a shadow over him.

Peter flinched, keeping his eyes locked on the floor as she bent down in front of him. May lifted his chin until he had to look at her. He met her eyes for barely a second before looking down again.

May smirked, letting go of his chin. "Go make dinner."

"Yes, ma'am."

She left the room, and he let out a breath. There was no starting punishment. A silver lining in of itself. If he didn't burn the food, there might not be any for the night. Doubtful, though. He used the wall to get back to his feet, his body too weak to support his full weight without help. Not that he weighed much. His enhanced healing was stunted by the malnutrition, but he hoped a night's rest would get him some strength back.

Making dinner involved cooking her chicken parmesan fettuccine from scratch, with a piece of homemade carrot cake for dessert. He set the table for one, laid out her food, and knelt by her chair.

Peter briefly clenched his fist. He hated this. He was basically her slave, and he couldn't do anything about it. Running away was impossible. Her brother, Rick, was a cop. Police Chief, actually. And Rick was more than willing to hurt Peter if he caught him again. He flinched as she pulled out the chair, keeping his eyes focused on the floorboard in front of him.

Her hand came to the base of his neck, nails digging into his skin. "Get the grits," she ordered.

His shoulders slumped as he struggled to his feet again. Thank god today was Friday. He probably wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow. Peter stumbled to the cupboard and pulled out a large box of grits. He limped back to her, setting the box on the table and standing to the side.

May poured about half the box on the spot he had been kneeling before. She made a motion, and he slowly dropped to his knees there again. He flinched as the kernels dug into his knees, his jeans providing very little protection.

The pain built up as he knelt longer and longer, his stomach churning as he listened to her eat. He'd managed to down a protein bar at lunch, his first piece of food since yesterday. May didn't usually allow him food more than once a day, twice if he were lucky. Peter knew by now that he'd get nothing from her this weekend and would have to scrounge something up himself.

She pushed his shoulders down, forcing him to shift slightly and send fresh flashes of pain spread through his legs. May took her time finishing, making sure to shove him a little every now and then. It had to have been an hour when she finished.

"Clean up," she ordered, voice cold and emotionless.

With that, she walked down the short hallway to her room. Pausing at the door she said, "Don't touch my food, Peter."

"Yes ma'am," Peter whispered, pain laced into each word.

She smirked, closing the door behind her.