Complications • Peter Parker X Reader

1. Packing

I was sat in my dark room on the floor. I'd closed my curtains and turned the lights off. A waterfall of tears soaked my old, grey and ragged jogging bottoms. My hood was up on my favourite dark blue hoodie. My white boot slippers were on my feet, saving my feet from the wooden floor. My head sat in my knees with my left arm hugging my legs.

I'd just got the news my mother had died. I knew she was ill in hospital however I didn't know how serious it was. I loved my mother. She was the only person I had ever loved. It was just me and her. My dad, well. He'd ran off somewhere leaving my mum when she was pregnant. When I was born, my mother fled to England. My home. We lived in a small town called Witney. Even though it was a small town, I didn't know everyone. I'm quite a shy person so I don't talk to a lot of people. My mum was the bubbly one.

I clutched the letter I'd got from the orphanage in my right hand. The paper was crumpled in the corner.

The letter read:

Oxford Orphanage
14 Winchester street
Oxford
England

Dear M.s Mason,
We are sorry to inform you that your mother Mrs Joanna Mason has died in hospital. As you have no other known legal guardians you have been placed in foster care at Oxford Orphanage. Sorry you found out this way and I am sorry for your loss.

Signed
Amanda Phillips

•

After I'd stopped crying, I re-read my letter. My eyes were still puffy and I was tired. I led on my single bed in my room. I had an average size room. I had a bed, desk and wardrobe. There was a small quilted rug on the floor. As I lead in my bed, my eyes began to water again and droop until I fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up around 7:30, I scratched my eyes and got out of bed. I walked to the bathroom and had a shower and brushed my teeth. When I was finished, I went back in my room to change into an outfit. I wore a striped hoodie and a pair of black leggings. I had slippers on my feet. They were nice and warm. After that, I got ready to start packing the house up.

I wasn't poor in any way however, we weren't rich. We lived in a 2 story semi-detached house. There were two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room, dining room, kitchen and a garage. We didn't own many items. My mother had liked to spend our money on experience's rather than clothes, books or toys.

I was about to start packing when I realised, I didn't have any boxes to put my belongings in. I was stumped on where I could get or find any but then I remembered, the attic. I decided that instead of going straight up the attic, I would put all of my belongings in piles.

I had: one pile for clothes
One pile for books
One pile for random trinkets
One pile for lego
And finally, one more pile for makeup and skin care.

I didn't own a lot of makeup but I did have 7 brushes, concealer, foundation, 2 eyeshadow pallets (one nude tones, one colourful). I also had mascara, bronzer, highlighter and lip gloss.

After i'd sorted out the piles I decided to go downstairs and put all the food in the bin. All the tins we had, I was going to donate to the food bank in town however keep some for when I'm hungry. I kept, a tin of baked beans and tomato soup. I decided that when I drop all the tins at the food bank I could also buy a small loaf of fresh bread.

I did the whole of the downstairs of our house in about an hour. Even if I own it now, it will always be our house (me and mum). We had a lot of stuff that even if I could keep them, I don't think I'd find much use for them. In my mind, I decided that they should go to a charity shop. I wasn't happy about it but as long as someone else finds use in them, I'll be happy.

I left my mothers room to sort out last. She had the least amount of things in her room however, every time I looked at them, I'd cry my eyes out. It was a constant reminder that she was gone and not coming back.

Once I'd finally stopped crying, I continued to put her stuff in piles. The hardest part of all this was, you could smell my mothers floral scent as it loomed around the room.

It was 12:00 when I'd finished packing up the house. I was hungry so I decided on going to town was a good idea. I grabbed the two bags (one filled with tins and the other filled with trinkets and other bits and bobs) changed my slippers to trainers and hurried out the door. I was too young to drive so I walked down to town. It took me about 15 minutes to get into the town properly. I went to the charity shop first.

I opened the door and there was an old woman standing there. She had light grey curly hair, which she'd put up in a bun. She was wearing a purple shirt and on top of all that, there was a green and black crochet vest. She wore a pair of black trousers and I couldn't see her feet.

I put my bag of trinkets on the table.
"I would like to donate these please," I said.
"Ok dear," the woman said and took the bag.
"Thank you," I said before I picked up my tin cans and left the shop,

I walked down the street opposite the charity shop until I reached the supermarket. I went inside and there was a bin to put all my tin cans in. I emptied my bag and then went over to the bakery section. I got a small loaf of tiger bread for 45p and went to the tills. I did a self-scan checkout and then left the shop to go home. I was quicker walking home because I didn't have as many items as I did last time.

When I got home, it was around 1:00. I put the bread on the bread slicing board and left it. I decided on having beans now and soup later.

I put the beans in a pot and put in on the hob. While they we're cooking, I sliced a few pieces of bread and put them in the toaster. I stirred the beans and when the toast was done, I served up my beans on toast and sat in the living room. I put on the tv while I ate and watched a funny show about the NYPD.

I was halfway through eating and then I realised something. I hadn't cleared out the attic. When I finished my food, I washed my plate and put it away before going upstairs. I grabbed the pole we used to open the attic from the airing cupboard and opened the attic door.

I went up the ladder and it was full of brown cardboard boxes. I made a pathway and looked through all of them. They were all empty except one. It was in the right corner on its own. Inside was a shoebox. There was a note on top.

It read:

For Y/n. When she's old
enough

It was my mothers scribbled handwriting.
I picked up the box and stared at it. Am I old enough? I should be right. Do I even want to know what's in the box?

I sat there debating for about 10 minutes until I realised.

I wanted to open the box.