clever as the devil, and twice as pretty.
It is a known fact that when you lie, you do it for a reason - but Nina was lying unhinged and she loved it. she loved the way they left the tip of her tongue. She loved the adrenaline she felt whenever she'...
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THE WORST THING YOU CAN DO WHEN YOU gain powers is to depend on them way too much. The whole family did it - whenever one of them would have any sort of injury, they'd seek out Samara to help them out. None of them even bothered to learn first aid knowing very damn well that Samara was there and that Samara could heal any injury in a whim, and now, Nina was suffering the consequences.
She doesn't know how many hours passed by. Her body aches and her head hurts. Her throat is soreand she can barely hum, and her eyes burn with every blink.
Nina doesn't know how long she stays there, on the floor with blood running down her nose and a bruise probably forming on her cheek - she's been losing herself for hours, losing track of time, and trying to figure out what to do.
Her family is M.I.A once again - Samara and Valeria not answering their phones. If she goes to the hospital for help, it would look a bit weird considering that there were multiple bruises in the shape of hands scattering her upper body. If she goes to Betty's or Liz's, the two of them would freak out and pester her with questions she couldn't answer right now - both figuratively and literally, since she can barely wheeze so it's obvious that Nina can't talk.
To her friends, she's merely Nina Viotto - the rich kid from the Upper East Side who happens to be a bitch sometimes and has a weird hyper fixation on Delmar's sandwiches. No one knew that she was also Mendax, the vigilante with terrible bosses who get a kick out of hurting her.
Well... no one except Parker.
Nina has two options - attempt to fix her multiple wounds and busted ribs and sore, sore throat that hindered her from speaking by herself with no medical experience, or text a number - an easy twelve digit number that she had already saved on her phone the ride home.
Hissing as she dug her phone out of her pocket, Nina stares blankly at the contact. PARKER. Straight to the point. No emojis, no funny nicknames - just that, Parker.
There's a stubborn side of her brain clinging onto her ego, telling her that Peter couldn't see her, not like this when she was broken down. She had always had this weird policy in her brain telling her that she would never let anyone see her at her lowest. People seeing her like this makes her vulnerable. Makes people care. Makes people think she belongs. She doesn't.
But on the other hand, with every breath she took, the pain multiplied by a hundred - and she wasn't just going to let herself blackout from the pain. Peter had mentioned that his Aunt worked as a nurse - so surely, he could help her, right?
With tired eyes, the girl types out the text on her phone:
this is nina. carnegie hill tower. 40 E 94th st. top floor bring first aid kit sos, parker
i dont think u can swing that high so the passcode is 1038 don't come in ur spiderman costume there's cameras
In the corner of the small device, she manages to make out the four numbers written in a font she despises: 2:07 am. With Nina distinctly remembering that she had arrived at around four due to the rush hour traffic, her whole body limps at the possibility that there may be no one there to go get her. If all her stereotypes about Peter being a goody two-shoes were true, then he'd be sleeping by now, tucked in his bed while she fought off the urge to fall asleep knowing well that if she did close her eyes, even if it was for a second, the chances of—
