SAFETY PIN

Chapter-11: Really, Really

   "You were a chapter in my book, and I was merely a line in yours."-p.b.p

(AMARA'S POV):

"You'll never be good enough for him" My father sneered, taking a step closer. "Do you think that will change when you take him on this little adventure that you have planned out?! You weren't enough for us. Do you think you like Peter? Do you think you know how he will react? Wait until he sees what wrecks you do with your 'powers'. Wait until he sees what you are. You don't deserve them. You don't deserve him."

I jolted awake, dried tears on my cheeks.
"Amara, what happened? You were crying for the past half hour. I tried to wake you up, but you just cried more, and more and more." Peter said, sitting on the edge of the bed, disoriented and concerned, his eyes searching mine for any hint of emotion other than confusion.

"It's nothing," I said, helplessly, my hands shaking.
"Amara, you can trust me," Peter muttered. 
"I know. I just don't trust myself." I whispered, tears threatening to spill. 

Peter pulled me into him, and as sobs racked my body, he held me tight.
"What happened?" He asked, running his fingers through my hair. He slid into bed with me, resting my head on his chest, gently massaging my scalp. 
"M-My dad. He was standing there. Right there." I pointed to the corner of the room. "Everything turned dark. Mama, and Vihaan, and Stevey, and you, you were all dead. My staff was lying next to you, bloody. And then I realised that I did it." My breathing became irregular, and I felt dizzy and nauseous. The contrast of the splatters of red across the pearly white floor made me sick. I could feel the wetness of the blood, the taste of iron. I tried ignoring it and carrying on.

"He told me I wasn't good enough for him, or you, or Mama. That I was the reason they died. That it would have been better if I was dead. Vi would have been better off." My chest rose up and down quickly, and I couldn't breathe.
"I can't breathe. Panic attack" I gasped. Peter sat me up and held my hands. 
"I can feel your pulse." He murmured. 
"I'll help you. Here, back straight, Ama, you'll get more air. Here, feel my breathing," He said, putting one of my hands on his stomach. 

He started breathing slowly, exaggerating the breaths. 
"You feel that? Try copying me." He pressed my hand against his stomach firmly.

"Breathe in, and breathe out. It's okay. You're okay, alright? I'm here, and if you need anything, I'll get it in a heartbeat, Ama." He whispered, as my breathing became more even. He reached to the bedside table, and grabbed the bottle of water, passing it to me.

I took a large gulp, and sat up properly, taking in what just happened.
"I'm so so sorry that you had to see me like that," I said, embarrassed. Dried tears blurred my vision, and I hurriedly rubbed it all off.

"Oh, don't apologise. I understand. I have panic attacks too." He waved me off.
"I started having some after Uncle Ben died, it's fine, nothin' really."

"My parents died in a car accident two years ago when I was thirteen." I blurted out. "My dad was involved with Hydra, and when he discovered I had powers, he brought me in right away. They paid a lot of money for me. I went through rigorous training and multiple tests for enhancement. My mum thought I was going to art classes. I wasn't allowed to tell her, otherwise, both of us would die. They wanted to take me to see how the men reacted...to me," I said. 
"But, mama was a doctor, so my dad knew she'd notice immediately. I'm grateful for that. I was only eight when it began."

"Vi doesn't know. My father was much kinder and nicer to him, and I want him to keep that picture. To be able to visit his grave without hatred, or remorse. Remember the love he received. To not hate our mother for not knowing. To not need to go through what I went through at his age." 

Peter stayed silent, and I took that as a cue to continue.

"I never started doing missions, because my mother wanted us to move to the US, from Mumbai. The Hydra bases were destroyed by the Avengers here a month after we relocated. When our parents died, Tony took Vihaan and me in. He told us that he was our godfather and was close friends with our mother. We went to live with him, Tony pulled a few strings, and we got citizenship, surprisingly. Nobody except Steve, and, now you, know what my father did. I feel furious that I bring it up. He was a good father, most of the time." 

He reached out and just held me. He held my hands tightly, thumb rubbing my palms.
His eyes didn't glisten of tears, but of some higher understanding I had never gained from anyone else.

He understood. He understood everything.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that alone." He whispered, reaching out and wiping my tears.
"The bad times stick with you more than the good ones, y'know?"
"It's like...I remember him taking us to the park and beach. Buying us mountains of unnecessary toys and playing soccer with us, but the bad times in Hydra stuck more." I said, pulling the blanket on top of me, and leaning back into his chest.
"It's okay. He's gone. Forever. You have to move on. That's the best way to get back at him. Show him he doesn't mean anything. Don't keep your emotions pent up. Paint. Yell. Scream. Write. Cry. Take your pick, love. I'll join you." He moved closer to me.

"Wanna go back to sleep?" He asked.

"Yes, please. I slept so horribly." I joked, easing the tension. "And it's only 3 a.m."
 He laid us down and turned around, my back to his stomach, his arm around my torso. 

After another hour, and our alarm for the airport blared, I calmed down and stared at Peter. I found myself doing that more and more often.

"Stop staring." He murmured, hugging me closer.
"You're surprisingly strong, Spiderboy," I joked, feeling his grip on my waist.
"You'll be surprised. I'm like ten times stronger and cooler than you." He said.
"But, I really like your hair." 

"Really?" I asked.
"Yeah, it's this cool ombre of black at the top and pink down! I wanna run my fingers through it all the time! I-I really like your smile too, but I don't really think I wanna run my fingers through your teeth." He rambled.

"MY TEETH?!" I laughed hysterically. 
"I JUST SAID NOT THAT!"

"Thanks, Pete, for the weird compliments," I said, sincerely, laughing.
"Now, let's not miss our flight."