Trigger warning!! This chapter dove deeper into the mental state of Peter, including his eating disorder and depressive thoughts.
The darkness of the vents makes the walls feel like they are closing in on me. Panicking, I press my legs out onto one side and my back against the vent wall behind me. My breath trembles as the air becomes thinner.
My spider senses go haywire; they work double time but do not focus simultaneously. I can hear the voices of people below the vents where I entered.
"Anyone have eyes on the kid?" I hear Mr Stark firmly speak through a crackling radio.
"Yeah, eyes on." A voice from behind me spoke.
My vision goes in and out with the bit of light in the vent.
"Hey, Kid," Mr Barton snapped his fingers, drawing my focus to where he was crouched. Feeling his body closing in on mine made my breathing quicken, heaving through the thick air.
"Woah.. okay, distance!" Barton said with raised hands backing up.
"You need to calm down, breathe, focus on your breath."
This advice helped at no avail as my vision was becoming worse, my hands numb, and my feet tingling. The walls crushing me.
"Uh uhm, okay, Kid, can you think of five things you can see right now?" Hawkeye questions. I look around, thinking for a second.
"m-my feet." I tremble out.
"Good, that's one, four more." He spoke confidently.
"you", I let out between breaths, and Mr Barton nodded in response.
"The vent walls and cobwebs in the corner."
"good one more", He gently spoke.
"My hands", I suggest, bringing them up to my face.
"Okay, can you tell me four things you can touch now?"
After a few wheezing breaths, I reach my hand down to the cold vent metal under me and gesture it to Barton, who nods.
I pull my hands back to touch my own arms. "My skin?"
"two more", he coaxes.
"My shirt" I comment
"a-and uhm." My breaths start catching back up as I struggle to find a fourth thing to touch in this small space. My eyes dart around, looking from wall to wall, and my heartbeat picks back up.
Clint, seeing this, reaches his arm out and connects it to my hand.
"Me", he offers, and I nod back, still racing with thoughts.
"Three things you can hear?" he asks, continuing the questions.
I close my eyes and let the super hearing do its work.
"Mr Stark, he's wanting an update on me." I let out hastily.
Clint nods but continues to ignore Tony in his earpiece.
"Water dripping"
"Good, one more kid, you can do it." He encourages.
"And uhm, the fan at the end of the vent is really loud", I note.
"Almost there, Pete. Two things you can smell."
I take a big breath through my nose.
"sweat from the training room.' I state. My mind slows down at the thought of small, mundane things.
"And I can smell Mr Stark's expensive cologne; it smells like pine and, uhm, whiskey?" I wonder.
"One Peter, can you tell me one thing you can taste."
"I can taste. Uhm"
I stop and think for a moment.
"I can taste my toothpaste."
Hawkeye lets out a breath, and I notice my head feels less dizzy, and the vents aren't that small. The air is thinner, and breathing in isn't as hard as it was a few moments ago. I take a moment to get my breathing back into pattern.
"The kids okay," Hawkeye says to his ear while tapping the earpiece with his left hand. "Come on, kid, follow me. I know a secret way to the bedrooms through the vents." he winks and starts moving forward.
I scramble to my knees and lightly follow him, soon dropping right into the middle of the hallway in front of the bedroom Mr Stark lets me stay in.
"I'll talk to Stark; you go lay down, rest. Okay?" Mr Barton mumbled, clicking my door open and gesturing for me to enter.
I slowly nod and stumble through my doorway, leaning into the bed with clean linen.
"Friday, close and lock the door", I muttered. Pulling the blankets up, I let my head fall onto the pillows, rolling onto my side and studying the changes in the room since I was last here; more books were stacked onto my desk, courtesy of Mr Stark, and the blood off the floor was mostly clean.
To anyone else's eyes, there would be no trace of blood. Between the wooden cracks, I can see the red stain crusting below. I wince and hold my shoulder, thinking back to the damage I could have caused myself. I sent a group text to Mj and Ned using my phone.
P: Sooooo, Mr Stark showed up at my apartment, and well, I'm currently in his penthouse laying in bed...
N: No way!! I thought they fired you!! That's so cool, dude. Is it fancy there? I bet the beds are made of silk!
P: Haha, no, the beds are not made of silk, and yes, it's very fancy here; definitely not used to this.
M: Oh, cool, Parker. Sooo, what did you do at the tower today?
My heart quickened at the thought of Mj being interested in what I was doing.
P: I just hung out with some Avengers; they showed me some self-defence and stuff.
M: Interesting, what Avengers?
P: uh, just like Captian America, Mr Stark, Hawkeye and Blackwidow
N: so cool
M: Did Blackwidow beat you up? She can do that.
As the conversation dove deeper, I heard a sudden knock at the door. I quickly slipped my phone back into my pocket.
"Uh, wh-who is it?" I asked, concerned with who I would have to speak to. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone about what happened in the vents today.
"Me, Kid, Let me in, or I'll let myself in." Mr Stark said firmly from the other side of the door.
"Mr Stark, I-I really don't feel like talking right now."
"Pete, just let me in - we can talk about what happened to better understand what you're going through and how I can help. Please." He gently argued.
"Sir, please, I really just need some space." I hold my ground and move closer to the door, ready to web it closed if Friday betrayed me and unlocked it.
A loud sigh was heard from the other side. "K, have it your way, But your butt is out here for dinner, understand? Or I'm calling May.' And with the quick response, I could hear his footsteps retreating down the hall to the kitchen.
Dinner, great. I know Mr Stark is onto me about eating, so I must put on a show tonight. This matters. He needs to believe I'm eating just fine.
Looking back at my phone, it's only an hour until dinner. A shower to clean up is the best option. The hot water cascades down my body, enveloping me in a steamy embrace. Every muscle in my body relaxes as the heat seeps into my skin, soothing my aches and pains. The water pounds against my skin, washing away the day's grime, leaving nothing but red, puffy eyes from the earlier tears.
The steam fills the air, thickening my breath. The sound of the water is calming and rhythmic, lulling me into a peaceful state of mind. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, thinking deeply about the panic that had passed me. The serene mood dissipates as quickly as it forms. The realisation of such stupid behaviour in front of my new 'friends' was dawning in.
My thoughts twist and turn like a dark, ominous storm cloud brewing in the distance. Negative and unsettling ideas swirl around in my head, fueling the storm and making it more intense. I feel like I'm being pulled into a vortex of despair and hopelessness with no way out.
The more I try to shake the thoughts, the more they seem to take hold of me, dragging me deeper into the darkness. My mind becomes consumed with doubts and fears, and I feel like I'm suffocating under their weight. It's like a constant battle, with the light trying to push through the clouds of darkness, but the night is always one step ahead.
The thoughts become increasingly intense, like a tidal wave crashing down on me, threatening to drown me in their negativity. These scary thoughts are something I've never thought about before. I usually punish myself through food. I don't always deserve food. But after today, my thoughts have come to a different type of punishment.
I start to feel helpless and lost like I'm trapped in a never-ending nightmare. It's a slippery slope, and I can sense myself losing control, succumbing to the darkness surrounding me. Everything seems hopeless, and I can't see a way out. The night overtakes me, and I'm left feeling alone and defeated.
I step out of the hot steam into a cold room, feeling heavier than when I had entered. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I reach my hand across the mirror and wipe the steam and water away to see the blurry reflection. My eyes are sunken, and my body is weakened and pale. Staring for a moment, the thoughts jump out: I want to hurt my body; I desire to destroy it and punish it for being so weak.
I start reaching down to search the draws, but I hesitantly pull back. Snapping out of this daze, I step back away from the vanity. Walking back into my temporary bedroom, I feel a lot slower. The room looks a lot darker. I throw on sweatpants and a jumper before heading to the kitchen, where I hear voices echoing down the halls.
I could hear Natasha and Tony deeply conversing about my training and the.. freak out. "Barton said it looked like the kid was having a panic attack. Did you say anything to him?" Mr Stark questioned Natasha.
She scoffed in response. " No, Tony, I didn't cause the kid to melt down; all I saw was he looked back at you guys and freaked. You need to talk to the kid properly." She added.
Upon entering the room unnoticed, I let out an awkward cough, alerting them to my presence. Their heads snapped to me, and they all looked concerned momentarily.
"Pete honey, you feeling better? " Pepper quickly said, standing up from her chair, walking over to me, and touching my back.
" If you ever need to talk, I'm here, okay? " she whispered more sincerely.
" I'm okay", I lowly spoke, wandering over to an empty seat.
After some long, awkward silence, Steve and Bucky started talking to each other, and dinner was brought out. Mr Stark placed a plate of food in front of me. I Looked down at the massive pile of roasted chicken and vegetables.
I knew Mr Stark would be watching me, but I really did not want to eat; I needed a plan. Thinking for a moment, I decided I would swallow some food as a form of a performance. This food would not make it through my digestive system, though. Other food I would stuff into my pockets when no one was looking.
Okay, Time to do this. Mr Stark's eyes watched me as I put some pumpkin and sweet potato into my mouth and hesitantly swallowed. Once he looked down to eat, I swiped some chicken into the palm of my hand and stuffed it into my pocket. This continued For a few more minutes until my plate looked empty enough. Pushing my chair back across the floor and standing, I picked up my plate, announced I was complete, and headed to my room. This is where my plan came in full circle. I ran straight to the bathroom, dumping the chicken into the toilet and flushing. I then proceeded to toss the contents of my stomach into the bowl. My throat was left burning, and my stomach was left empty.