THE VOICES

im a bad girl;

A scorching pain interrupted Peter's sleep as the clock struck seven am. A groan was discharged from his lips as he rolled over in the sheets, hands seizing locks of his hair. It was that time of the year again where Peter's senses were getting the better of him. It was around January time that things would begin to change, like the ageing and adaptation of Peter's super-powers. It had been seven years since Peter was first bitten by the radioactive spider, and to say the least, he had improved.

However, that didn't terminate the pains that he would have to endure throughout a few days of the odd month every year. Although it wasn't an often occurrence, it was still exasperating for Peter to have to put up with. Sleep was out of the picture by now as the pulsating was only getting more inadequately painful. So, rolling over Peter pulled out some clothes from his drawer, not matching in particular before hurling them onto the crumpled bed sheets and headed for the shower.

Peter never had been a morning person, but the thought of waking up in the afternoon didn't seem to please him either. Since Peter had started living alone his life had been rather quiet. He'd been able to focus solely on being the cities hero, whilst also now being able to balance a part-time job at the daily bugle. Although, lately it had been a significantly substantial struggle, which Peter hadn't first bargained for.

At the beginning of November last year, a new story had entered the deep waters of the newspapers. At first, it meant nothing to Peter, as he concocted it was just another big story that would have a moment of glory before dying out again. However, when the story's reign of fame continued to grow, and he was collecting more information on the insight, his life was flipped upside down.

He first discovered the name of the murderer that had made their mark on the streets in December, going by the name of lockjaw. At first, it was complete cringe, why would someone pick a name such as lockjaw? But, Peter's curiosity was short-lived. Whoever it was that was seeking out their victims was doing it well, and there he had your modern-day Jack the Ripper. The host would tear out its victim's throat's using their teeth, hence the name, before leaving them for dead in alleyways scattered around the city. Peter had attempted seeking out the killer as his alter-ego, but it didn't help that the kills happened so infrequently. There could be three in one night and then no action for weeks. There was no pattern.

Reports would come and go days before Peter could get on the scene. He was trying, but it didn't help that there was nothing he could abide by. He couldn't go to the police, he was no certified detective, and he certainly couldn't roll up in the Spidey costume. He would just have to sit and wait for something to fall into place. It played on his mind a lot more than it should, as although there wasn't much to go off, the kills were getting much more gruesome.

Despite the fact Peter couldn't get to the murder before it took place, he was able to get there afterwards. And it was never a pretty sight. The first few victims he had discovered it had been a very manageable kill. Their throat would be torn apart, as expected, maybe a stab or gun wound which he guessed would be there to inflict the first act of the weakening before the main event took place. Yet, after around two weeks the kills were already getting more intense, and Peter would show up to the scene to see limbs missing, and more often than not the killers signature carve mark. Jigsaw had a puzzle piece, Lockjaw had a bite mark. It could be anywhere, but most of the time it was on the hand, pressed over abductor pollicis muscle around the thumb and palm. Sometimes it would be gentle enough to only leave a bruise, other times it would sink right into the skin.

Why they were marking their victims, Peter didn't know. It was yet to leave his dreams, turning them into nightmares. This killer was good at what they were doing, smart and dangerous, and it got Peter wondering who it could be. What if it was someone he knew? What if it was someone he was close too? Thinking about it had become a bad habit, like biting his nails. The more he pressured himself not too, the more it occurred, and it was slowly taking over Peter's life.