Stronger

chapter fourteen

Happy Halloween!!

Including this one, only three more chapters!!

Quick TW: mentions of suicide

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Peter stopped counting the days after a few. Counting made it more real. But he'd thought it may have been a week or maybe a week and a half when his whole schedule changed.

He woke up, usually screaming or sweating or thrashing around from the frequent nightmares that had started to invade his mind, and ate his breakfast, sore from pretty much everything.

The day before, he'd gotten hit with an arrow when they were doing the experiments for his reflexes and Spidey Sense. They had him turn around so he'd have to rely on his Spidey Sense and couldn't see it coming. Technically, he sensed and dodged it, but he couldn't dodge the other five arrows coming at him all at once.

That's when, instead of guards coming to pick him up, Envo walked in.

"Hey there, Pete." The nickname made him sick by now. Especially because that's what his friends called him. "We're changing it up a bit. Focusing on one of your other powers."

A shiver crawled down his spine and the hairs on his arm stood up. He only has one other power.

"We're going to start experimenting to see how your healing works. I think this might be my favorite experiment so far." A sadistic grin spread on his face when he saw Peter's horrified expression.

Especially when they started bringing in the cases, presumably filled with all sorts of things to bring him pain.

Peter didn't speak. He didn't look up. It would only get him hurt worse.

"Why don't we start out easy," Envo taunted while reaching into a small case. He shuffled his hands around in it for a minute, and when he pulled them out, they were decorated with brass knuckles.

Neither bothered to say anything else. Envo just came over and started firing punches at him, the brass knuckles drawing blood easily. Pain exploded through his head, arms, torso, anywhere he got hit.

Peter didn't move though. He wasn't tied up in a chair like normal, but he wouldn't be able to escape. He'd just be chased around the room until someone pins him down or ties him up. Or maybe they'd enjoy watching him trying pointlessly to escape the inevitable. He wouldn't lose his dignity like that though.

He fell against the wall and onto the ground. Envo climbed on top of him and continued laying down hits.

He could feel bruises already beginning to form and blood leaking from his split lip, the cuts on his arms, soaking through his shirt.

After an eternity, Envo stood up, but not before laying a few kicks on Peter. One kick was delivered to his head, and his vision faded out.

When he came to, sweating and panting from the nightmare, he was still covered in blood. Not the old blood that was already on his shirt, but fresher blood from what he had just gone through.

That was yet another thing he hated. They gave him white clothes. Two pairs. And they were never washed.

That meant that he could see every hole or gash from the weapons and every drop of blood. His clothes were more red than white now. Just another painful reminder of reality.

The cases still stood by the door, but they had huge locks. Not that he could do much with them anyway.

He figured someone watching him on the cameras was probably writing down how he healed. Or maybe while he was passed out, someone came in and examined his healing. The thought of someone in here, while he was unconscious, sent a chill down his spine.