In and Out

in, out. In, out.

That’s what Peter had been telling himself. Breathe in and out, in and out.

But for some reason, his lungs wouldn’t allow it. He took gasping breaths, breaths that rattled his rib cage and left him a shaking and sobbing mess.

He couldn’t get the image out of his head. The image of his uncle Ben lying lifeless on the cold sidewalk. He remembered the feeling. The feeling of his uncle Ben’s cold hand intertwined with his own, the feeling of his sticky blood on his hands.

He remembered the life leaving his uncle’s eyes. Those eyes that Peter had seen everyday. Those eyes that were staring unblinking at the sky.

Peter sat in his room on the floor against a wall, knees to his chest and hands gripping his hair, pulling at the brown strands. He let out a choked off sob, covering his mouth so he wouldn’t wake up his aunt May.

It had been weeks since Ben’s death, yet Peter still couldn’t get the image out of his head. He couldn’t stop reliving that moment. It replayed over and over in his head.

He was the one to blame.

He caused his uncle Ben’s death.

Uncle Ben’s blood was on Peter’s hands, both figuratively and literally.

It was his fault.

Peter gasped for air, tears running down his cheeks. He scratched at his arms, trying to ground himself. He screwed his eyes shut, taking shaky inhales. He sobbed weakly, rocking back and forth.

In, out. In, out.

Peter was used to this. Calming himself down, comforting himself. This wasn’t new to him. He could go to aunt May, but how would he explain to her that he was the cause of her husband’s death? How could he tell her that? She’d hate him for sure.

So he’d keep it to himself. 

After a while, he started to calm down. His breaths were slowly going back to normal and the trembling subsided. He took a few deep breaths, and he was back in the present again. He ran his fingers through his hair and just sat there, feeling too exhausted to get up just yet.

He looked at the clock. It was pretty late already. Maybe he could just.. rest here for a while. Yeah.. that wouldn’t hurt.

He laid down on the floor, closing his eyes and exhaling shakily.

He would be sore in the morning for sure.