Its on you
The once clean toilet is now filled with vomit. Sweat laces his skin; Wait. When did Uncle Ben and Aunt May a bunch of new toilets?
Knocks knock.
“Honey?” Aunt Mays gentle voice brought warmth ( The only warmth that wasn’t feverish.)
Peter groans. Leaning his head on one of the many toilets. “Yeah.” His voice hoarse and raspy.
The door creaks open. “Oh, sweetie!” He feels the warmth of his aunt behind him. Her cold fingers caress his hair.
“I think I..I- uh ate something funny.” He moans.
It wasn’t because of that possible spider bite.
“Oh my god PETER!” Aunt May shrieks. Her fingers lightly touch his neck, which causes a sharp hot pain.
“Ahh” He yelps. May gives him an apologetic smile.
“What happened?” She asks sharply.
He glances over his shoulder, to stare at his (multiple) aunts. “What..Uhh...What uh do you..mean?”
Her eyes burn into his neck. “There's a bump.” She pauses not giving him a chance to respond, “BEN!” She screams.
“WHAT?” He yelled back, though Pete can tell his uncle was in the kitchen, not that far from the bathroom, both still yell.
“COME HERE.”
Feet pitter patter over to the bathroom. Peter hears a sharp gasp. Peter turns back to his toilet, “ Bleerg .” He vomits.
“He needs to go a hospital.” His aunt informs.
“No!” Peter gasps. His stomach hardens. “Please. I’ll be fine.”
He can feel his Aunt straightens. “Pete-”
“Please I just to uh need to sleep it off.” He pleads.
Peter weakly stands up. He can see his aunt stands up, grabbing his forearm. Helping him stumble to bed. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Ben following them.
His vision darkens before he even lays down.
He woke up in a cold sweat, clothes soaked with sweat. Immediately feeling much better. Ridiculously better. He can see. Without glasses. His hands search his face, making sure he didn’t fall asleep with them on. Nope, nothing.Peter head throbs, but other than that he seemed fine.
He gets out of bed and stumbles his way to the bathroom. Gripping the bathroom handle, to close the bathroom.
RIP
The handle comes off.
‘ Well…..That's not...Uhh...That's not supposed to happen.’ He considers. He stares dumbly at the handle. Then back at the shower. The handle, the shower, the handle.
He stumbles over to the sink. He tries to turn the handle, breaking it. He idiotically trying to places it back on. Knocking into the faucet, knocking out of its place. Water squirts everywhere.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
His breath picks up, stumbling back. Falling into the tub. He hits his head on the wall, cracking the wall.
He forces himself up. Stumbling out of the bathroom. He rushes out of the apartment. Breaking the front door. He stumbles down the hall, running into Uncle Ben.
“Peter?” He asks. Peter can barely see anything, his breathing is rapid. Heart races.
He bolts away, down the stairs. Out the apartment building, the night air chilling his sweaty body. He takes a large, deep breath. He takes it to slow down the sidewalk. Trying to quell his nerves.
“Peter!”
Shit. Ben. He walks a little faster, unsure how to explain this. Is it adrenaline, from the spider bite or from his fever?
Peter turns into an alleyway, his breath quickening. Unaware of a man standing there. Unaware that the man was going to pull him in the alley. Unaware of the needle in the hand of this man. Unaware until he jams into his neck.
He instantly collapses. Unable to move, unable to scream. The man grabs his leg pulling deeper into the alley.
“Hey!” The familiar voice growls. The voice that would quell his nightmares. Voie that comforted him after his parents.
(In another universe, Ben would find Peter and take him home. Only to be killed a few weeks later. With only Peter blaming himself. But in this universe, the world is crueler.)
Peter wanted to scream. Peter wanted to yell for his uncle to get help.
His uncle charges the man. The alley was dark, but Peter can oddly see it clearly.
He heard the man reach into something, he heard the man pull something out.
Worse of all, he heard the knife enter the skin. He heard a sharp intake of breath. No, no, no, no, no. BEN!
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
BEN!
What cruel world is this, a world where he can’t scream. Where he can’t wail? Where he can’t hold his uncle one last time!
He heard the knife twist, making a haunting noise.
The man pulls the knife out. The man approach peter, kneeling down, the man gloved hands grab his forearm. He places the knife in his right hand. Making his hand move the knife.
Peter wanted to fight back.
“Pe...Peter.” Ben whispers faintly. Turning towards his nephew, their eyes met one last time. Before Peter was picked up and taken away from the alley.
Never to see his uncle again.