(Peter's POV)
I ran back to my room, tears blurring my vision. I slammed the door and flopped onto my bed. I let my sobs hit the blanket, making the soft cotton become damp. I lay there for a second, just thinking about nothing and everything at the same time. I felt my body become numb with sorrow as I looked up at the white, bleak ceiling. I would be gone soon. I would be a part of that white. I would fade into a soft, painless place. Dad would become less stressed. He wouldn't have another mouth to feed, he wouldn't need to spend money on insurance for me. It would be fine. Without me. I smiled. Dad would be happy. After 10 more minutes of think about everything, I stood up. I cautiously made my way over to the door, trying not to make a sound. I opened my door slowly, and made my way to the elevator. I got in and pressed the button marked with a '1' and a star next to it. As I started to ascend, I started making a game plan. I just need to get out. I just need to get out. I just need some fresh air. I'll take a walk around a few blocks and I'll go home. I'll go home.
I stepped out of the lobby and onto the street. I started walking, wide strides carrying me away from the tower. It felt good, the cold wind chilling my nose and fingertips. I felt free. Free from stress, free from pain, free from the fury of my father. I checked my phone. The screen read 9:30. I have some time... at 10 I'll start walking home. After about 15 minutes of walking, I turned down a street I had never been down before. It had eerily low lighted lights, and the ground was littered with cigarette butts. I slowed my pace. My vision seemed to blur. My head started pounding. I started to stumble, as my legs struggled to hold myself up. I fell to the ground. I was able to prop myself up against a brick wall and pull out my phone. My phone was flooded with missed calls and worried texts from dad. I pressed the 'call back' button on my phone with the last ounce of strength I had in me and put him on speaker phone. I heard him yell out my name through the phone. I was able to mumble his name just before my world went black...
Note: oh wow oh wow another update already? Who would've thought.
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Sick - An Irondad Story
Fanfiction"I looked over at my usually gallant father, who had dried tears streaking his face. I felt awful, not because I was in pain, but because I made my father heartbroken. I never wanted him to feel this pain." Or, Peter's battle with a terminal illne...
