Chapter 23

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[A/N: If you're like me and enjoy listening to music while you read, I suggest Remembrance by Balmorhea. That's what I was lightening to in the beginning of this chapter. Also hey! I'd love to know what music you usually listen to during fics, I'm always looking for good music to write to.]

The thing that woke Peter was actually the light shining in from a small attic window. Its path as the sun slowly rose into the late morning, shined it directly into his eyes.

After he slowly regained consciousness he was surprised the light woke him and not the sense of pain shooting through his body, the most notable of it all was the left side of his face. Though, thinking of it now he had grown used to sleeping with pain, whether it be on the surface or his stomach begging for food.

With the light being the first and pain being the second, the third thing he immediately noticed was how soft the ground was under him. He took in a few breaths as he tried to wake up his foggy mind, then he shifted his arms under himself as he sat up. A thin, scruffy, blanket slid off his shoulder as Peter looked around confused.

He was on a ratty old mattress that laid on the floor of a small attic. A few other mattresses lay around the room tucked near the walls, all of them were empty, but in no way looked abandoned.

His mind was finally catching up to his surroundings and he stood up in a defensive position. Anxiety filled his chest as he reached up a hand to his left eye, one he still couldn't see out of, he was met with a coarse fabric that was wrapped around his head.

His memory was quick to return, and his eyes widened as he put a hand to his throat.

He let out a faint whimper of relief as he found his neck no longer held the tight collar that helped his captors control him.

He pulled his hand away as he swallowed and appreciated the fact that he couldn't feel the sharp edges dig into his throat.

The next thing to check was if he still had an eye, it probably should have been the first worry but in the moment freedom seemed more important than depth perception. He tried shifting the bandages so he could look out of it but as the fabric scraped against the wounds from the claws it only caused more irritation.

He was able to see light out of the bottom of his vision, it was proof enough for now. He shifted the bandages back in there place with a wince.

His attention was then drawn to one of the corners of the room where a spiral staircase lead down to the rest of the house. The clink and clatter of dishes and silverware could be heard.

Peter's eyes wandered to the window.

He was given no warning from his spidey sense, but the urge to run was much stronger than the one to stay. The sound of footsteps up the metal staircases forced him to make a split second decision.

It probably wasn't the most logical one, but the fresh air and bright sun was calling him.

He bolted towards the window, it surprised him that it wasn't lock and he pushed open the circular glass slipping out through the small gap. He climbed up the side of the building and found himself on the slanted roof of a house.

He didn't wait to find out who was walking up the stairs before he jumped to the next rooftop.

And he kept running.

The fresh smells of the air, sun on his skin, and the light was almost blinding from spending god knows how long in the dark dingy cell he was stuck in.

When his legs finally collapsed under him he held tightly to the top of a church tower he found himself on.

Looking out at the city he found himself in, he broke out in a hysterical laugh.

Always Silent, Peter DarlingWhere stories live. Discover now