[BOOK 2 OF THE HAVOC SERIES]
❝i don't like you because
you're spider-man. i like
you and you just happen
to be spider-man.❞
in which lena santos just
wants a break, but nick
fury has other plans for her
and her friends.
[ spider-man: far from home...
┌────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┐ chapter one NEW BEGINNINGS └────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┘
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───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
WATER IS FILLING HER lungs. Though she tries, she can't break through the surface and award herself with the precious air that her lungs so desperately crave. Rather than coughing the water out, she only swallows more of it and subsequently makes her heart race erratically in terror. Her limbs thrash wildly in a futile attempt at swimming. The action only makes her sink faster than a boulder until pressure begins to build in her head. She's never been able to do it, so why should it save her now?
Her vision is blackening at the corners. Growing tired, she ceases her senseless squirming and stares up at the sunlight fluttering through the waves in the world above. Bubbles rise from her mouth. Her hair is floating around her, limbs feeling like they're filled with lead. It's laughable how peaceful this is— her terror subsides into acceptance, aware that this is the end, but somehow okay with that.
The last thing she sees is the glaring sunshine before her vision goes completely black.
Lena comes hurtling out of the nightmare as fast as a freight train, sitting up in her bed with her chest heaving. She places a hand to her throat as a phantom pain pulses there. It feels almost as though she actually had swallowed a huge gulp of water— although she's safe in the protection of her room, her body tricks her into thinking the dream had been real.
She closes her eyes and releases a rush of air through her mouth. Forcing her breaths to even out, she slowly inhales through her nose as adrenaline makes her hands shake more than usual.
Her room is pitch black. It must be very early in the morning, for the sun starts to rise as early as five-thirty now that it's so close to summer. The darkness elongates the shadows dancing across her walls and sends a shiver down her spine.
Lena tosses her covers back, finding them damp from sweat and crinkling her nose in disgust. She squints in the dim lighting and catches sight of the poem she'd haphazardly scrawled on a piece of looseleaf paper and tossed onto her nightstand. Ever since... then, she's been finding solace in poetry. It has helped her through some of her roughest moments. When she comes crawling out of nightmares — which seems to be more often than not, these days — it helps to purge her feelings out through words.
Snatching the paper up, she scans the title and huffs a laugh out of her nose. It's about drowning— how ironic. It's her biggest fear and one of her greatest weaknesses; even being around water is enough to make her jittery.
