𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝑰𝒇 𝑰 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍? // Peter Parker fanfic

8: Why me?

The bright, enticing sun shone through my white lace drapes, making my eyes flutter open, all my pain coming back to me. My father betrayed me. My body was riddled with wounds and bruises from the hole that got ripped in my heart and the fact that Peter saw me hurt. He can know because if he knew, it'd be a danger to him.

Peter's soft brown hair lay across his porcelain skin, laying over his eye, which was slightly bruised from the blow he took. He took that punch for me. I don't deserve that. I don't deserve him. He's too nice and happy and oddly beautiful. His face was so symmetrical, his nose so cute, and his eyes very open.

I looked him in the eyes for a while, and he looked right back. His eyes were zipping fast across my face. "You alright there, Pete?"How are you feeling?" I said groggily, and I cringed at the sound of my voice. It was scratchy and didn't sound like the best.

Oh, yeah, I'm okay. How's that gash? " He blushed sheepishly, and his voice sounded as angelic as ever. Why am I suddenly picturing Peter as angelic and beautiful? It's strange, and I can't see him that way. Can I?

"You hungry? I'll cook us up some breakfast! " I said while ignoring the pain all over, that I didn't want to get out of bed. I wanted to stay there forever and never see anyone again, but that's not reality. I have to save people, even if I can't save myself. I'm a hero now, and I can't just let people die because of my own personal issues. He gave a simple solum nod, and that was all I needed to get up and walk through the agonising pain shooting through my whole body, and my hand ached as I gripped the pan as I placed it on the stove and turned it on. I put butter on the pan and the sizzling sound filled my ears, earning a sound of satisfaction from my mouth. The sound of my feet tapping on the wooden floor as I grabbed bacon and eggs was one of the many sounds in the room. There were so many sounds, and my thoughts were drowning them out. I served up the eggs and bacon for Peter in the shape of a smiley face. I grabbed utensils and marched up to my room where he was resting.

He ate the food pretty fast as if he had been starving his whole life. It was concerning, but he was healing. He would be hungry. The sound of someone knocking at the door made me jump, even though my spider senses were going crazy. I knew then and there that it was CPs. I steadily went down the stairs, and before I opened the door, I took a long, deep breath in and one out. The door opened with a creek. I saw a man and a woman standing there. "Is this Ophelia Smith?" she asked. I gave a solemn nod back. "You can come in," I muttered as I averted my gaze to make sure not to look into their eyes.

They sat down on the couch, and I sat across from them. "You may know that your father didn't come home last night." He started but quickly closed his mouth just for his partner to start again. And we have been informed that he passed away in the attack, and as we can see, you were caught up in it. What exactly were you doing there? " Thoughts raced through my mind to think of a cover story when I hadn't quite thought of one. "Interview," I said very bluntly, as she scribbled something down. As you may know, your mother provoked parental rights from you and is no longer classified as a parent or guardian, so we will be moving you into a group home temporarily so we can get things sorted out. We would like you to pack, and we will be down here waiting for you. Take all the time you need. " She said, with sadness in her voice. It's not like I didn't expect this, but I felt a pang in my heart. I'm moving again, and I have barely settled into the apartment.

I dragged my feet to my room where I sloppily packed clothes, euphoria hitting me like a truck, as this is the very thing I had done 1 month ago on that dreadful day when my whole life was ripped from my grasp and crumbled into the depths. Peter was sitting on my bed, aware of the situation but just sitting there, silently supporting me. My duffel bag was full to the brim and as heavy as two elephants, but I had no problem carrying it out of my room to the living room, where they were sitting patiently. "I'm ready," I squeaked as I shifted from foot to foot. "Alright, would you like me to take that for you?" he asked, but I just shook my head. I don't need any help. I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm not his little girl anymore.