Peter Parker Imagines Book

What Hurts The Most

You tried to ignore the mirror as you searched for your car keys. You really did. On days like this, you hated seeing yourself. To see the reflection of adult you had become.

Your hair was wet from the shower you had taken, but other than that, you looked just as any other person in their early twenties would. Young. Still able to pass as a teen, if you wanted to try. But it was your eyes that gave it away.

The light was gone. The spark of hope that was naturally instilled in every human at birth wasn't there anymore. Your eyes betrayed you, showing just how haunted you really were. Filled with sadness and regret and guilt. One look, and anyone could tell just how much you went through. The bags underneath that hadn't left since you were sixteen completed the look. And today, it was amplified. The downward pull of your face settling in, and you making no attempt to get rid of it.

You used to love Saturday mornings. The beginning of the weekend. They used to be spent filled with wonder. Filled with adventures and quality time, ranging from eating breakfast in bed as you caught up on your favorite shows to hanging out with MJ and Harry at the park to swinging through New York City with Spider-Man, laughing and screaming from the thrill of being weightless as Peter laughed with you, holding on tightly before the two of you would sit on a rooftop and talk and kiss through the night.

Now, Saturdays were filled with work. You had packed your college classes as much as your major and minor would allow, but you still had too much free time. Your weekends were spent working in fast food. It was the only job where you knew there would be constant tasks to do. No time for your mind to wander. You were able to focus on one thing, and that thing only. You were even grateful bartering with unhappy and rude customers.

You knew it was an unhealthy way to live. To drown yourself in work and stress. But for five years, it helped you keep on living. More than you would like to admit, you thought about if it would just be easier to get rid of your problems rather than to live through them. And while you never actually found a complete solution, the partial one kept you alive long enough to see your twenty-first birthday. It was a plastic bubble with you on the inside, keeping you afloat on a stormy sea of emotion. It was protecting you, but you also knew just how close it was from cracking and letting the water flood in. Slowly, your bubble had begun to fortify, but on days like this, days like today, you knew it was weaker.

The cold bite of the oncoming winter wind hit your face as you stepped outside into the October morning. The air chilled you to the bone, raising goosebumps and making you shiver. You rushed to get to your car. You couldn't deal with the cold. Not today. Not when you were feeling like this.

You swallowed hardly as you turned your key in the ignition. It took a few attempts before the engine roared to life, but eventually you merged into traffic. The movement helped to pull you from your current mindset.

Soon enough you were at work. A few of your coworkers shared empathetic looks, but said nothing as you passed them by. The familiar sounds of oil crackling and machines whirring and peoples voices as they ordered food surrounding you. It didn't take long before the restaurant got busy, which was the best thing that could have happened for you.

The fast pace helped keep you distracted, but since today you were reliving, time moved slower; minutes feeling like hours.

It wasn't until your boss placed a careful hand on your shoulder and commanded you to take a break that you realized that you weren't holding up as well as you thought you were.

For some reason, today felt different. Felt worse. Like something horrible was about to happen, and like last time, you wouldn't be able to do anything about it.