you're gonna die (i'm gonna kill you)
Peter shakily grabbed the hand-sewing needle he had stolen from the kitchen cabinet. Sweat trickled down his forehead and his fingers trembled as he tried to thread dental floss through the small hole in it. His cheeks were flushed and he pierced his skin with the needle, stitching it together.
The knife that caused this to happen was next to him after he had ripped it out in order to put himself back together. He felt dizzy and slightly sick as he stared down at the white tiles that had been stained a deep vermillion because of him. It stung.
He gritted his teeth as he knotted the minty floss that irritated the wounds even more, making his eyebrows furrow and eyes water. He furiously blinked to try and get his vision back, and he chucked the needle into the bin next to the sink.
Peter sighed, as he stared down at his work. It was jagged, and it wasn’t done well, but he couldn’t just rock up to Mr Stark’s at 3 in the morning, which was way over his patrol curfew, with a stab wound.
Peter rummaged around the cupboards for some painkillers, and after dry-swallowing them, grabbed a sponge of the sides. There would always be a pinkish tint in the tiles. They were never going to be perfect.
He scrubbed. His fingers were starting to hurt, and he wondered whether he was going to die. He scrubbed. He worried about what his siblings would think, or what would happen.
He scrubbed. He rinsed it down with water in a cup, then he stripped out of his clothes, walked downstairs, and shoved it in the washing machine and started to kick it.
Elisabetta was being bounced in his arms as he frowned down at his torso, and he shoved a jumper near to him on without smelling it.
Malena came down with Mateo, bouncing him similarly to the way he was bouncing Elisabetta. Peter smiled at her and she softly smiled back, and they began talking in hushed voices.
“What about the others?” Peter asked. It wasn’t a secret who he was talking about. Both sides of the family had many siblings; Gabriela, the eldest, who was in jail for assault, Santiago, who was eleven, Sofiá, who was fifteen, and while they were here, she was looking after her siblings, Sebastian, who was nine, Raphael, who was five, then the youngest, Mateo, who had turned one a month ago.
“May’s on her meds,” Malena said. A rush of pain flitted through him, and momentarily he was overcome with jealousy. He knew that he couldn’t blame Malena, but he wished that was him. “If not, Sofiá can do it.”
“Fine,” he replied with finality, though he wanted to curl up into a ball, because while they had a mother who was actually in their right mind, his was shoved under the trampoline with beer to keep her company. “Do you want me to carry Mateo?”
“It’s alright, Pietro,” Malena sighed. “I’ll take Elisabetta, and you can make breakfast, otherwise nothing will get done.” Peter nodded and handed his sister to Malena, who started to kick the washing machine as it slowed and watched as Peter made his way into the kitchen.
He was tired. His fingers hurt, and every time he turned, his stomach hissed with pain. Peter took four slices of bread, yelling out whether anyone wanted a crust before shrugging and putting them all in.
“Shit, that’s like, eight pieces of toast I have to put in,” Peter rolled his eyes. “I’ll have to go shopping soon.” he muttered to himself. As he scrambled the eggs, he furrowed his brows.
“What’s wrong?” Malena asked him, readjusting the babies in her arms so she could get in a more comfortable position.
“You know, Tony, yeah,” he stuttered out. Bollocks. He may as well do it now, right? “I’m just scared that he’s going to find out and we’re all going to be separated from each other.”
“You like him though, don’t you?” Malena asked. Peter nodded as he took out the pieces of toast, replacing them with another four slices. “So then why don’t you just let him in?”
Malena grabbed a piece of toast off the plate even without butter and started to rip it up to feed to Mateo. “I agree. If he found out, everything would go to shit. That can’t happen. But if you like him that much, he deserves to sort of get to know this part of your life, shouldn’t he? If he wants to take that much interest, which it seems he is.”
“I’ll talk to dad about it,” Peter concluded. Malena wasn’t being that much of a help, apart from where she said she’d agree with him. Richard Parker was the brains behind every single one of the Parker-Lombardi children, and that was a role he took on with respect.
Because he cared.
When he got into the prison, two security guards dragging his father out to sit in front of him on the rickety, white, canteen bench, he was overcome with relief. His shoulders relaxed and he crossed his legs to lean over.
“Pietro! Isn’t my visit long overdue?” Richard smiled at him, and Peter found himself grinning widely. His father could always make him smile like that, and Peter had always appreciated it.
“Sorry, dad,” Peter replied, his cheeks flushing red. “Things have been a bit hectic lately. Did you know Mary came back? She literally dumped another kid on our laps like, two months or something ago?”
Richard’s gaze hardened. “What the fuck? I swear if I was out of here, I would be right round there giving her a piece of my mind.” he spat. Peter scoffed slightly, but didn’t say anything. “So, how’ve you been doing in school?”
“Great, actually. Just did an English assessment, so I’m pretty confident about that. Mario and Luigi are doing good, so’s Valentina, she’s doing great actually, outstanding in loads of things.”
“That’s brilliant,” Richard laughed. “You are going to go to college, right, Pietro?”
“Yes, dad,”
Richard and Peter spoke for the next hour of their visiting time before Richard was escorted away, but not before he got a quick hug in. Richard winked at him before saying that he should meet his boss sometime, he didn’t give a fuck if it was Tony Stark.
Peter at least had someone he could rely on, even if they were locked behind bars that he could easily bend with his bare hands.