Stronger

chapter ten

In the elevator, Peter was breathing hard, starting to hyperventilate. He only made it about a block before he stumbled into an alley. He felt dizzy and hot. He sat onto the ground, leaning against a wall.

It was hard to breathe, and he found himself gasping for air. He was shaking and sweating and couldn't get himself to calm down.

He was scared of what would happen when he got home. Mrs. Wright had told him not to be late for curfew again, and he was. What if she found out that Bruce and Bucky had seen the burns too?

After about fifteen minutes, Peter got his breathing under control. He was still shaking a bit, but he was no longer sweating as much or light-headed. He swiped at his eyes, wishing he could get rid of the puffiness.

He'd only had them once or twice before, but he thought that it was a panic attack.

He got up and continued his walk home. He was still scared and hated it. He was Spider-Man, he shouldn't have felt scared.

It was eleven when he got home. He didn't bother sneaking in. They would already know he was late and trying to pretend he wasn't would only make things worse. Bracing himself, he unlocked the door and went inside.

Just as expected, Mrs. Wright was there at the kitchen table waiting for him. What really scared him was the empty beer bottle in her hand and a cigarette in her mouth. He wasn't sure where Mr. Wright was; he hadn't seen him in a while.

"I told you not to be late. Do you know what time it is?" she spoke calmly, venom lacing her voice.

"Eleven," Peter mumbled quietly, trembling. He leaned against the wall to take his shoes off. Things escalated very quickly, and he realized that was a mistake.

She threw the beer bottle at him. It wasn't clear where she was aiming, but she hit the wall right next to Peter's neck, causing the glass to shatter, some of it cutting or getting stuck in the skin by his neck and shoulder.

Peter gasped in pain and felt blood running down his neck onto his crewneck.

"How do you think it makes me look when you come running in here late at night?" She stalked over to him and pulled him away from the wall.

He didn't want to be scared, but he was. He was shaking, his palms were sweating. Every step that brought her closer made Peter want to run or fight back, but he couldn't.

Her fist met his face multiple times, his Spidey Sense painfully going off before each one. And that was only the beginning. She grabbed his arm, never failing to stop her rant about how bad, pathetic, and terrible he was and took her cigarette out of her mouth. Peter dreaded what came next.

He clenched his teeth to stop his groans and cries and squeezed his eyes shut as she held the cigarette to his arm. Over and over again. "Maybe this'll teach you what happens when you don't follow the rules. Except you won't need to worry about that much longer. The orphanage can have you back."

After adding almost ten burns to his arm, the hitting started again. And when he fell to the floor, the kicking and stomping started. That part hurt almost as much as the burns, especially when she got close to or kicked one of the spots where he got shot.

Blood took over his senses. He could taste it and smell it, dripping from his mouth and nose. Feel it sticking his clothes to his skin and the drops rolling down his skin. See it splattered across the floor. Hear it pumping in his ears.

Spots danced in his vision and he almost passed out multiple times. He thought he may have actually blacked out a few times. Tears dried on his cheeks, only to be washed away with more. It was all he could do not to scream.