Chapter 4
Every night, the Starks (plus the Avengers and Rhodey) had dinner as a family, and Peter affectionately referred to it as his personal hell. Everyone was giving all their attention to Harley, who was ranting about a girl he sat next to in his Algebra class. Not a single person acknowledged Peter, but he was used to it. He wondered why he wasn't enough for the rest of his family. Why did all the Avengers seem to flock to Harley but give him less than a second glance? He was over that, he told himself. It wasn’t true that he’d give anything for his parents to see him as a son a part of their family. Natasha gave him a look that said ‘we’ll talk later’ then resumed her conversation with Bruce. She knows me better than my own mother he mused. He quietly excused himself from the table and walked up to his room. He hated this. He hated how they made him feel so insignificant like all of his achievements were nothing. Peter quickly ditched the clothes he was wearing while he had to sit through dinner. The last time he skipped dinner, they got really mad. All he remembers was screaming, "You know how worried Harley was—"(They didn't even care that he didn't eat only about how Harley felt about it) He shook himself out of his reverie and put on more comfortable clothes.
Peter quickly rushed out the door, he knew he was being irresponsible and that New York was dangerous at night but he needed to get out of his housethe tower. He walked around in a daze not acknowledging his surroundings for a while. When he snapped out of his daze and studied his surroundings, he was in Hell's kitchen. Suddenly he heard a gunshot, he got feeling wrong if he died out here would anybody notice? Maybe, Natasha, he resigned to his fate, he’ll die here with no one. He prepared himself for the shot but it never happened. Confused he opened his eyes, something flew toward his neck and everything went black.