FOSTER CHILD | PETER PARKER

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 | the calm before the storm

[ playing — as the world caves in, matt malhese ]

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𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗬-𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧
the calm before the storm

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ISLA'S KNUCKLES WERE GOING WHITE FROM HOW HARD SHE HELD THE BATHROOM SINK.

Her breaths came in short spurts, heavy and furious as she thought about how close she had been to spilling the truth out to Pierre and how close she had been to brawling Teresa in the middle of her bedroom. She didn't understand what was happening to her, how she herself be so easily controlled by her thus allowing her powers to make a show once more before ultimately disappearing yet again.

She couldn't get her finger on it, why did her powers only show when she reached extreme lengths, why couldn't she fully obtain or keep it. Was it just a fluke in her system, the answer

She was turning delirious and she knew it, her head racking with pain as the memories of her hovering over the dead bodies of her foster parents snuck their way into her brain — which didn't help her case, making her feel dizzyand lightheaded the more she thought about it.

She opened the medicine cabinet, her injured hand dancing around the endless, moving an old box of hair bleach onto the sink until she found the painkillers. She popped three pills out of the container and threw her head back as she tossed them into her mouth, fighting the urge to chew them as she so normally did when she was younger. She leaned under the tap, drinking the running water as she sucked on it, trying not to grimace at the abrasive taste. It probably wasn't a good idea to drink water from the rap but she had no plans of leaving the bathroom anytime soon.

The tap squeaked as she turned it off. She wiped the corner of her mouth as she looked at in the mirror. She could just barely make out the outline of herself in its black reflection. As if on cue, the lights flickered back on and Isla got a glimpse of what she looked like for the first time in awhile.

She looked awful.

Her under eyes were darkened, serving the many sleepless nights she had over the last few wheels where spent her time thinking about how truly life threatening the situation she was in and wishing she never had been put in it in the fireplace. The dark circles strongly contrasted her now pale skin that used to be on the more tanner of her spectrum. Her hair was matted at the bottom from lying in bed all day and greasy at the top from refusing to get in the shower, the thought of plunging herself in water terrifying her after the incident at the Halloween party. Faint spots of purple and yellow were also evident on her upper neck from that same incident, making the line of blood trickling down her upper cheek look minuscule in comparison.

Her fingers gently hovered over the cut, fearing that it might but she dismayed those fears, smearing the blood down her face and rubbing it into her skin as if it were some sort of blush just to give herself any sort of life back in the weeks that she had lost it.