spiderman angst/sickfic oneshots

"like crying out in empty rooms with no one there except the moon."

Peter felt like vomiting. He had no clue what was going on, but he picked up that it was bad. Really bad.

"Yer' name?" He slurred, trying to open his swollen eyes wider, but failing.

"Abby." She answered softly, "I'm 23. Can you tell me your name?"

"Peter." He said, coughing afterwards, cringing in pain as his ribs protested and movement at all, "m'15." He told her.

The more he woke up the more he realized he was extremely tied up. He had duct tape all over on top of rope. He could now see, blurrily, the gag that had been removed by Abby on the ground next to him.

"How many left?" He asked, his voice nearly giving out as he tried to lift his head farther and look around the room.

"Just about seven." She answered, "you got most of the kids out, problem is is no one's gonna come looking for us older folk for a while."

He tried to nod, but was hit with a wave of dizziness that limited him to a soft hum. His neck was stiff.

"Why're we here?" He asked. He was still holding tightly to her hand.

Her expression changed a bit as she looked for a way to break it down to a poor, concussed boy, but didn't know how.

"It's- it's human trafficking. Uhm-" she didn't know how to explain it to the poor boy. Everyone in the room had been sexually assaulted in some way since they'd gotten there, some more severely than others. Even Peter had been taken away while he was unconscious.

Unfortunately, Peter just kept looking cluelessly at her. His head and memories were jumbled up.

"They make videos. They sell us- they rape us." She said nervously, watching as his expression shifted from clueless to horrified to understood.

"Oh." Was all he said.

Later that day it happened to him and when he was thrown back into the room with the remaining kidnapees, Abby was there to comfort him.

His whole body was shaking in shock and he really felt like he was going to throw up. Abby practically held him up as she led him to a corner of the room where he proceeded to gag up stomach acid. He was starving. They all were.

A month later,
two people had died from starvation, the youngest left. They were growing kids, 11 and 12, both needed to be fed more than once a week. The rest of them were getting skinny. One of the others had developed what they assumed was an ulcer. Peter was sure he was on the way there, but didn't say anything. Her moaning constantly attracted the guards, and despite his own injuries, he managed to stay silent. There were 5 left, including him and Abby.

Two months into their stay,
The ulcer girl passed away and a boy around his age passed of starvation and dehydration. They had watched as he began to hallucinate. It was terrible the way they kept their rotting bodies in the cell for a little while without reporting their deaths to get an extra meal.

Later that month Abby and another girl was taken. Abby came back, but the other girl did not.

Three months into their stay,
Peter had been raped more times than he could count. His stomach consistently ached and it hurt to breathe. He had so much trouble inhaling at times that Abby began to stay up all night watching him, just to make sure he kept living. It wasn't creepy, he appreciated it. He didn't know how either of them were still alive. Abby said it was dumb luck, that she was athletic and her body had a lot of muscle to eat away at.

Peter was taken one day, dragged out with his head hanging on the ground, his hair dragging like a mop, and he watched as Abby took a deep breath and waved weakly with one finger. When he came back, there was no one there to hold him up as he vomited.