Peter Parker's life was never easy. He is a superhero, an orphan, and the top student at his school. At least he is not alone; he has his Aunt May to look out for him. He was just starting to get used to his new life when tragedy strikes the Parker...
Peter has an anxiety attack, so if you get triggered by that I would advise you not to read paragraphs two to four.
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Peter P.O.V.
My eyes slowly open released from the confines of sleep. I stare up to a white ceiling with navy beans crisscrossing different directions and heights. My unfamiliar surroundings jerk me awake causing me to sit up and look around. The bedroom is spiderman themed. The wall in front of me is white and has a door with a black desk to the right of it. Around the desk on the wall is a metal sheet with a paper attached. Looking to the right of my bed there is a built-in wardrobe. It looks clean and expensive just like everything else in the room. I turn to the left and see another white wall. There is an open door where I see the outline of a shower. It is probably the bathroom. Next to the bathroom is a chair hanging from the ceiling with shelves surrounding it. My eyes wander to the wall behind me. It is red with white web designs. That leaves the bed, it is navy blue with red and white sheets.
After admiring the luxurious surrounding I was left with the question of where am I. Then, the memories return. Each one pulling me down into a pit getting darker and darker as I go. My breath quickens as I feel each memory tearing me apart. I try getting out of bed but the room is moving. The world around me is muddled and disorienting. I feel as though I am lost, disconnected from the world, forsaken by everyone and everything around me. Trembling, I bring my knees up and wrap my arm around them. My head lays struggling to escape this hell. Vaguely, I sense the door opening and someone running to the bed. The bed dips with his weight. An arm grabbed my shoulder gently pulling me up into their embrace.
"Hey, Kid, Kid! Peter! Listen, you're safe. No one is going to hurt you." The person tries to comfort me.
I wrap my trembling arms around them holding on for dear life. My head lays on their shoulder. I feel the tear streaming down my face. Why am I so weak? I am Spiderman, a superhero. I should not be crying, but I continue; it is not something I can stop. I stay that way until about ten minutes later when my breathing slows and I can think straight. I slowly lift my head and realizes the person in front of me is Tony Stark. The billionaire genius superhero, the one who has about a million things to do but is sitting here helping me. I back away hastily until my head hits the backboard.
"I'm sorry. I-I just. I don't know what happened." I ramble.
"It's fine, Kid." He stands up, backing away, clearly uncomfortable with this situation. "Why don't you clean up and change you clothes, and then we will talk about." He motions around with his hands. "Everything."
He walks to the door, but right before he leaves he turns around as if he forgot something. "Clothes are on your desk and a new phone because your old one was painful to look at." He leaves closing the door quietly behind him.
I sigh and lean my head against the backboard. "Great job trying to impress him, Peter. Really! Great job." I say to myself. I move to get off the bed letting my feet touch to the cold, hard floor. Walking over to grab some clothes I notice the paper on the metal sheet behind the desk. I grab it and read what it said. 'There are more clothes in the wardrobe, and a new phone and computer on the desk. If you need anything else ask Karen, she is in your room. -T.S.' I smile, grab the new clothes and head to the bathroom.
It felt nice to take a shower. Water running down my face mixing with the dirt and blood, and finally falling down the drain. I wish it could take away the pain as well, but it doesn't, and if I want to not break down in the shower, I will need to move quickly; and that is what I do. Within five minutes I am ready. My hand is on the doorknob; I hesitate for a second not sure how I want to handle this. I remember all the people who have died because of me. I know they would want me to be happy, and to move on, but I am not ready yet. I take a deep breath deciding I will try to find a way out of this, a way to be alone.
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I have never had an anxiety attack so I don't know if that was right. Sorry this chapter was a little short.
