Into the Light | Peter Parker x OC

Chapter Fifty-Three

A/N: hello!

you guys, this chapter is really heavy and dark. it's probably the darkest chapter since this story started so i'm just gonna go ahead and say, this chapter is not for everyone and you can totally skip it if you don't feel comfortable with this stuff

⚠️ tw: self harm and suicidal thoughts ⚠️

the song possibilities from twilight is up there in case you want to make this sadder than it already is

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MAY

Adelaide sat by her phone for endless hours, painfully waiting, hoping, praying that in the next moment, it would buzz with Peter's name and she would pick it up and hear his voice again.

Maybe even just a text would ease the pain a little. But as she sat there for hours day after day, waiting for the impossible, her phone stayed dark and unringing. Because all the people she ever called on that phone were gone. And now her phone was useless as the voice in her mind trying to convince her to move on.

So she wrapped her fingers around the phone and chucked it across the room as hard as she could.

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JUNE

She screamed, shoving the table over.

Glass shattered across the room. A piece flew into her arm. She paused, staring at it curiously. She watched the blood oozing out. It was dripping out slowly, as if hesitant. She studied the piece of glass. It was roughly the shape of a triangle. She concentrated on the physical pain. It hurt less.

With trembling fingers, she pulled the piece of glass out, tossing it aside.

Sobbing, she ran her finger along the cut. Her finger was bloody now. She pulled at the cut, opening it up further. It stung like hell. But it still hurt less.

Adelaide fell to the floor, staring at the cut on her arm. Her eyes ran over the glass. She found the one that had been in her arm moments earlier and picked it up, turning it around. The tears were rolling down her face, spilling into her mouth. She gasped for air, feeling her throat burn like hellfire.

"I'm sorry, Pete," she sobbed, dragging the glass across her wrist, opening up a new wound for blood to come through. She didn't wait for the pain to register as she made another cut just under it.

"I'm so sorry," she choked out, her entire body heaving, "I couldn't save you."

Dark blood was spilling out quickly now and her arm was covered in a terrifying shade of red.

"I should have stopped it," she gasped, feeling the sting traveling up her arm. She gripped her arm, squeezing it as hard as she could. She groaned in pain, tucking her arm into her abdomen.

"I'm...so...sorry," she cried, shaking with sobs.

The cuts stung. But not nearly enough.

She wrapped her bloody hand into a fist, digging her nails into her palm as hard as she could. She let out a muffled, agonizing scream. She felt her veins under nails. She gritted her teeth and pressed harder.

There were more cuts now, more blood. But the pain wasn't enough, still. She didn't understand. How much physical pain would it take for it equal her hurting? How many more cuts of glass?