𝘛𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘦𝘣𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦

08. Nightmare

Everything is pitch black.

Peter can hear his heartbeat, a loud thumping in his ears as he looks around in a state of panic, seeing nothing but an endless void of shadows and darkness stretching all around him, the sky above stained in deep red.

Desolate and barren, the empty place is eerily quiet, save for the soft pattering of Peter's footsteps as he navigates further into the vast wasteland, searching for an exit. But just like the last time he found himself here, he couldn't find any.

This whole place feels... wrong, somehow. Foreboding. As if it's another realm of existence, distorted in space and time... yet though there isn't a single soul in sight as Peter continues walking onwards, a sudden chill takes hold of his body.

His senses started screaming.

Someone... something is watching him.

Peter comes to a dreaded stop, breath short and uneven. The cold air seeps deep into his bones, and the teen wraps his arms around himself in a futile attempt of keeping himself warm.

Abruptly, Peter stumbles backwards as he can vaguely distinguish thick tendrils of white smoke slithering into the space in front of him, a phantom body forming from nothingness- disfigured facial features morphing before his eyes.

A loud shrill echoes all around him and suddenly Peter is lifted up into the air by an unknown force and thrown to the ground like a rag doll, a heavy pressure squeezing his throat, crushing his chest- stopping him from breathing.

"I always get what I want, Spider." A voice hisses, hypnotic and serpent-like.

Where had Peter heard that exact same voice from?

The boy thrashes around on the floor, choking and gasping, tears streaming down his face. He tries to say something, but no words escape him. The figure hunched over his body smiles, as if pleased, in a way so terrifying and unnerving that it left Peter frozen in fear. It strokes the teen's cheek softly and hums.

"...And you are what I want."

*****

Peter wakes up in a startled gasp, bolting upright in his bed. He clutches his head as if it's being ripped apart and tries to focus on his breathing, trying to stop himself from spiralling.

Fuck. The same goddamn nightmare again. Although this time round, something made an appearance and promptly strangled the life out of him. That thing... Peter shivers. He can't get the image of it out of his head. There's an ashy aftertaste lingering in his mouth, and it's as though he's falling, an uncomfortable lurching sensation twisting in his guts. Peter feels too unsettled... feels like he'd been cursed.

And that voice- it was familiar. But where...?

It took a while, but once Peter managed to calm down enough to the point where he's able to lift his head without the fear of throwing up from dizziness, his eyes darted around the room cautiously, as if wary of another presence. But... he's all alone.

It's quiet and dark.

Peter lets out a long exhale and slumps his back against the headboard of the bed, exhausted and drained. Like all of his energy has been sucked dry. He grimaced, thinking 'guess nightmares tend to do that to you.'

Even though Peter would usually appreciate silence at a time like this, right now it was too deafening, and left him all too aware of thoughts inside of his mind. He needed something else to focus on, something to distract him.