Woven webs 》Peter Parker

Home that bleeds of agony

"Good choice honey, minimalism is the death of beauty." Her grandmother smiled at her, as she took the intricately detailed emerald encrusted necklace and headed to one of the employees. Her grandmother was always draped in accessories and soaked in oud or musk perfumes.

"I haven't forgotten of my promise, I never will." Nayla whispered into nothing. She headed towards her walk-in closet. In the farthest side to the left, she kept her grandmother's jewellery chest.

She sat on the floor, sifting through the the collection of gold bright jewellery. She stacked multiple rings across her fingers, but voted against necklaces and earrings as someone could rip them off of her during missions.

A golden tennis bracelet caught her eye, it strung together various bright precious stones together. It was her grandmother's favourite. She smiled as she remembered how her grandfather ordered his wife a custom made bracelet because none of the ones displayed in the store interested her.

As she examined the gems, she saw a small dark stain. She scrubbed it off with her fingernail, wondering what it could be. A sense of deja vu hit her as the bracelet glinted under the light, the same way it glinted the morning of the incident.

The crime scene cleaner must have  missed a spot.

Nayla's breath quickened as her lungs tightened. Her hand shook as she stared at the bracelet in hand. She couldn't. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't tear her gaze away. She couldn't stop the images flashing before her eyes.

The lights dimmed, stealing the sparkle from the bracelet. Her head shot up in confusion. The light was dim and out of reach, she heard someone sobbing. Her surroundings sharpened and settled. She didn't need to guess where she was, she already knew. Her home.

She clutched the bracelet in hand as she stood over a slightly younger looking version of herself. Younger Nayla latched onto the corpses, facing the ceiling as a blood curdling scream ripped through her.

Meanwhile, the tiles of each and every floor started submerging in a thick ruby liquid. Natasha was first to sprint to the common room as the rest filed in. Wanda and Sam hopped on the kitchen island; Steve, Thor and Bucky on the stools. Peter crawled on the wall while Tony, Clint and Vision took the large couch.

"Why the fuck is the floor bleeding?" Sam was first to speak up. All shared a look, clearly no answers or explanations to be given. "And the walls are bleeding too now." Banner walked in, mouth agape as he watched blood trickle down the white walls.

Peter shivered as blood droplet landed on his shoulder, "Great, it is the ceiling too." The soft splatter as blood dripped onto the crimson lake further disturbed the heroes. "Where is it even coming from?" Tony wondered. A voice, barely over a whisper echoed across the compound. Its voice raspy as sharp inhales and sobs disrupted it every now and then. It was in a foreign language that none recognised.

Tony opened his mouth to speek but closed it as Sam signalled him to stop. The language was familiar to Sam's ears yet slightly foreign. Arabic, it was arabic as it clicked to him. The dialect was very different than what he was used to when he was serving in Iraq.

"What is it saying?" Steve asked Sam who was frowning as the meaning behind the words registered. "No no no please no." Sam muttered, the sorrow he heard from the voice slowly poisoned his insides. He took a breath and winced as he heard the voice sobbing louder.

It cried again louder. "It says wake up, don't die. Please don't die. Come back to me. I beg the gods of you to not die." Sam couldn't bare to look anyone in the eye, he kept his gaze solely on the puddle beneath him.

A shreik jolted everyone as the light flickered and buzzed. The Avengers sprang up and stood in defense positions, a habit ingrained in the back of their minds.