You had gotten into your pjs and gone to bed, falling asleep for some time. You dream about the nights events. Being taken, your heart racing, in the trunk of a car, as you drifted in and out of consciousness. Being chained up in a warehouse, crying for help, and finding that your best friends Dad was the one that took you. Being crushed by the building, waking to Peter's face flooded with tears, saying you had died. And walking home, emerging with nothing more than a few scratches and bruises.
You wake with a start to the sound of knocking at your window. You glance at the time as you stand up, it was almost 4:00 in the morning. You pull up the window and Peter stumbles in. You put your arm around him to hold him steady, and you guide him to sit down on your bed. He was covered in deep, thick cuts, and he had a black eye.
"Oh my god Peter, what happened?" You ask.
He doesn't answer, just puts his hands on your face and examines it. He takes in the thin scars that were once deep cuts, and then he stares into your eyes with disbelief.
"Peter, what's happening to me?" You can hear the fear in your voice.
"Y/n" he says, pausing, "I have no idea, even I cannot heal this quickly."
Your breathing starts to get more rapid and Peter pulls you into a hug.
"I'm scared Peter." You tell him as he continues to rub your back.
"It's okay," he says, "you're going to be okay."
But no matter how much Peter reassured you, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself, you just couldn't believe those words to be true.