Miguel laid in bed. The cover over his eyes as protection from the sun. He was out of it. Drained, tired.
He had scratched up a photo this evening out of frustration. He hadn’t meant to. The talons weren’t working with him today.
It’s an off day. Miguel was burned out and didn’t want to speak to anyone or speak at all for that matter. Speaking took up too much energy. Speaking was exhausting, saying the right words at the right time to keep on masking.
(“5 missed calls from Gabe”.)
(“3 missed calls from Maybelle.)
He was going non-verbal today. Also part of the reason he was going non-verbal was the fact that his fangs were getting in the way.
Miguel just laid. Staring into space.
It was just one of those burnt out days. Like having what did people in the 20’s call it? The blues was that the right term?
Eh Miguel doesn’t care right now. He was just floating. Like a rock in a lake.
( 10 Missed texts from Peter B)
( 6 Missed texts from Ham)
( 16 Missed texts from Miles)
Just no Spider-Man. Just Miguel, this is off time. Relaxing time, sleep time. Miguel time.
Miguel time. Just relaxing and getting energy. A recharge like a robot. Peni has a robot.
Wait no Spider-Man thinking. It’s Miguelito time.
(27 missed texts from 🕷️😈Superior Spider Army Shits😎👑)
Miguel sighed, getting up. He ran his tongue over his fangs. They made him speak with difficulty when before all this, well Spiderman he could speak perfectly. Now He spoke with stutters (only when frustrated) and lisps.
Gabe had suggested Speech therapy. Miguel had considered but had ultimately said no. Miguel hated any kind of therapy, (“Miguel, the results came in you have PTSD.”)
He shook his head, walking to the.. Where was he walking to? The… bathroom. Yep that's it. He continued his walk to the bathroom, slowing down his pace when he opened the door. He flipped down the toilet lid and sat on the carpet-lined cover.
He felt like screaming till his vocal cords were sore. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror, his hair was an outright mess and scars criss-crossed all over his chest. He opened his mouth.
There were his fangs. He wanted to rip them out, he felt disgusted at himself, His body.
He wrung his hands. His eyes drifted to look at his hands, He had talons like those monsters in the movies he used to watch in college. He sat on the toilet seat. He got fuzzy feelings all over his skin.
He felt uncomfortable all over. He needed to go back to napping or just laying down. He felt tears streaming down. God! He needed to pull himself together.
He wasn’t 10 anymore crying over his Father’s abuse. He was a fucking adult! He was Spider-Man for crying out loud!
He allowed a scream to rip out from his mouth.
He refused to fall to the floor though, he was better than floor crying.
He walked slowly to his bed.He shoved his face in a pillow. He felt childish, he was crying over, over, over basically nothing! He tried breathing in and out, 1,2,3- it's not working.
He tried breathing harder breaths. He stopped and laid on his bed. What was he doing, He was getting all worked up over nothing.
He got up and grabbed the book by his bedside. It was a book about genetics. The title was A Brief History of Everyone Who Ever Lived by Adam Charles Rutherford. It was an old 20’s book but it was comforting for him.
He flipped the next page and his talons
punctured the page.
Shit! Miguel just threw the book away from himself.
He has Talons and Fangs, the markings of a Monster. Miguel was never religious but his parents were and that’s what they said Demons looked like.
He was a monster. A Demon.
Just like his father said he was. Miguel felt bile crawl up his throat. His father wasn’t right! Miguel had strived to prove his Father wrong, the whole time his Father was alive. He went to college! He had a doctorate!
Miguel speed-walked to the bathroom. He threw up in the toilet. Getting up, He wiped his mouth and turned on the sink. Throwing water in his face. C’mon Miguel! He flopped on his bed. More exhausted than before.
He gently closed his eyes, falling into the darkness of sleep.
Yeah sleeping sounded good right now.
(1 Voicemail from Peter B)
“Hey Miguel, just checking in, Everyone said you weren’t answering, Are you okay? Call me back or Text me please just respond.” BEEP - BEEP signaled the end of the Voicemail.