FOSTER CHILD | PETER PARKER

xviii.

FOSTER CHILD | ACT ONE
scene eigteen: concrete wall

THE BRIGHT LIGHT blinded my eyes as Isla woke up, a splitting headache wracking through my brain. She fluttered her eyes, adjusting to the light. She scanned the room, taking note of her unfamiliar surroundings. She didn't have to see to know she was in a hospital, the stinging smell antiseptic told her enough. Her vision was blurry and could barely make out the lumps of pink as get well soon cards and gifts and the floating circle as a balloon.

What caught her eye though was the man standing by the door frame, his hands deep in his pockets. He looked quite scary to be honest in her blurred. He looked like he didn't feel comfortable in her presence, almost like he didn't want to be there.

"Scott?" Isla spoke up, her voice was hushed and coarse.
She found it kinda sultry, she liked the sound of it even though it felt like someone was grating sandpaper against her throat, but that wasn't the point.

She knew it wasn't Scott, it couldn't have been. Scott would've been sitting in chair. Isla noticed that he isn't fond of standing for too long and by the looks of the person they've probably been there for awhile. It could've easily been one of the Hydra Representatives, wanting you to take her away and use them for their own illegal purposes.

Noticing the girls wariness, the man spoke up. "Paxton." He affirmed, pushing his body off of the door frame.

"I knew that, was just guessing because it didn't seem likely." She let out a strenuous groan as she sat up in her seat.

Paxton eyed her carefully, a hint of concern in his eyes. "You're in the hospital."

"Figured." She let out a strenuous groan as she sat up in her seat. "Last night was awful."

"You mean two days ago?" Paxton quipped, walking into the room.

"Two days?" Isla responded, "I was out for two days?"

"You had a severe concussion, broken ribs, glass deep inside your arm and a broken arm, not to mention you almost overdosed." Paxton listed, "It's a miracle you're even alive."

"Doesn't sound too bad." Isla quipped, admiring her bright pink cast. "The overdosing was my fault by the way, snuck into a cabinet and took more shots than I needed."

"Why?"

"I don't know, was scared that certain things wouldn't work out." Isla replied, fiddling with the blanket as she avoided eye contact.

"Well..." Paxton began his concern for the girl for only growing. "Given the state of your current familial situation and the overdosing the doctors have made some sort of connection that you might need therapy."

Isla groaned, throwing her head against the wall. "I don't need therapy." She hissed, her headache beginning to get worse.

"Doctors orders, not mine."

Isla's face contorted as she tilted her head. "How do you even know this? You're not my legal guardian."

"Scott told me everything." Isla perked up, her nose crinkled. "He was here y'know, he left yesterday because he had some stuff to do." Paxton told her, drumming his fingers against the top rail.